💚Fieldnote: Canna Lilies Wander aka The Great Canna Lilly Migration

I was raised with great big hedges of canna lilies. They were used as boundaries — tall, showy, prolific things. Thick green leaves and bright blooms standing in rows along fences and roadsides, multiplying year after year until someone finally divided them.

So with that expectation, I planted them in my garden and thought, oh, they are going to overwhelm everything eventually. I imagined myself digging and splitting tubers in future summers, carrying armfuls to neighbors and friends.

But then they didn’t show.

The weather warmed. The coneflowers stretched upward. Bee balm unfurled. Butterfly weed returned. Pineapple sage thickened green at the base. And still no cannas.

Then one morning, smaller ones appeared.

Near where I planted them. Far from where I planted them.

Something underground had gotten hold of them over winter and carried pieces hither and yon, leaving fragments of root tucked into the earth. And from those fragments, life emerged again.

Now, instead of one dramatic hedge, there are little winding rows and uneven drifts weaving through the garden. Purple leaves emerging among the greens. Reds rising unexpectedly between coneflower and bee balm. Small tropical declarations appearing where they were never planned.

And honestly, I like it better this way.