the lessons of blue breakfast

OK--why do I write about daylilies so much? After all I am a quiltmaker. That is my life. My profession. Dare I say it--my obsession.

And yet there is so much to learn by looking at life from other angles. Take the daylily "blueberry breakfast." What a gorgeous flower.  First blooming in my garden this year. Just look at all the wonderful tones and depth. The little  ruffles at the edge. The green eye. Oh I love it.

Blueberry breakfast--daylily--Ann Brauer

Now you must understand that blue is a color that daylilies do not come in. Sure there are technical reasons--don't ask me to explain.  Way above my pay grade. But of course that makes the color sought after. You know how that goes--if you can't have it, you want it.

Anyhow I digress. Yes, "blueberry breakfast" was blooming in my garden. And I loved it. And as a belated birthday gift, my DH took me to Tranquil Lake Nursery in Rehobeth.Here is their web site. http://www.tranquil-lake.com/ What more could I ask for? Acres and acres of daylilies.  So hard to capture the intense color and the feeling of being surrounded by such color. Peak season.

Tranquil Lake--daylily--Ann Brauer

I was surrounded by color. 

Tranquil Lake--daylily--Ann Brauer

Unbelievable rows and rows of color that I could walk through and absorb. Try to decide which ones just had to make it back to my garden. You see that was part of the birthday gift. How lucky could I get? And then I saw what might be a Must Have. That amazing dance of blue against the yellow.

Blueberry Breakfast at Tranquil Lake--daylily--Ann Brauer

Blueberry Breakfast--daylily--Ann Brauer

Until I looked more closely and realized that was "blueberry breakfast" grown up so that instead of just one plant, there was the intensity of tens and tens of it. The sky dancing at my feet.  And of course I realized that is also the power of a quilt. That intensity of repetition so that yes--one fabric--one design is lovely and to be admired. But then there is the power of fabrics dancing together.  The intensity that you get only by a whole and the contrast with the yellow flowers--if you know what I mean. (See you knew I would talk about quilts eventually, didn't you?)

And isn't that also part of marketing. One potholder or quilt is fine but isn't there something about selection or choice that adds to the process. So of course I did have to choose just a few more daylilies. Could I resist "swirling water?" Won't that look swell in a clump?

Swirling water--daylily--Ann Brauer

"Outrageous" needed to come home with me. I couldn't capture the drama of that plant but trust me--I can't wait.

Outrageous--daylily--Ann Brauer

 A bit of pre-shopping for next time. "Opera Elegance" looks interesting. Hmm.

Opera Elegance--daylily--Ann Brauer

And "Lake Norman Spider". That could be fun, right?

Lake Norman Spider--daylily--Ann Brauer

Yes, I loved "red suspenders". Out of my price range for now. But worth noting just the same.

red suspenders--daylily--Ann Brauer

Then it was time to head home. Plant the ones I got. Aabachee and Shaker Dance. Goodbye Columbus--a late gold that was not yet blooming. I must extend the season. And "Asiatic Pheasant." Oh this will be fun--something to look forward to next year. And I must give "blueberry breakfast" more space. See if I can get it to grow into a clump that seems to dance with the sky.

And you--where do you go for color and inspiration? What are your favorite daylilies?  Your favorite nurseries? Olallie's, Stone Meadow, Longlesson. So many to choose from. Or is another flower your fave--iris, peonies, zinnias. It is hard to go wrong, isn't it?

stretching myself with spiders--wordless Wednesdays

OK--I confess that when I first saw them I went ho-hum. I mean why would anyone want a flower that doesn't fill the space. That isn't big, lush and round. Isn't that how flowers should be, I thought. But still these are just daylilies and so I got a few. Maybe if I studied them and learned to see them a bit more I would start to appreciate them.

Now there is an actual definition as to what a "spider" daylily is--something to do with the ratio of width of the sepal to its length.  And there are all of these wonderful terms to describe the particular twist and turns of these flowers. Yes, I should learn them. And probably I will. Sometime.

But for me daylilies are  fun. Nothing relaxes me as much as being in my garden--seeing what is new. Admiring what is there. Wondering what is to come.  Although I confess that I use my process of learning about daylilies to also try to understand how others learn about fine craft and in particular quilts. How does one look and appreciate what is there? What are the questions? And what questions come after the answers? Do you do this?  But enough--time for some pictures. Didn't I promise that this post would be "wordless"?

One of my first spider daylilies. Nutmeg elf.  The flower is so small--about 3". So cute, isn't it? A clump blooms so full of yellow it always brings a smile to my face.

nutmeg elf--daylily--Ann Brauer

And  "cat's cradle." Maybe about 8 inches across. Yes, I got it for the name. Blooms a bit lower to the ground than I might like--or maybe it is the location in which I have it.

cat's cradle--daylily--Ann Brauer

This is "easy Ned." Presumable named after Ned Roberts who was one of the first hybridizers of spider daylilies. I love that green in the center, don't you?

easy Ned--daylily--Ann Brauer

And this one is "revolute". As you can see, now they are getting to be fun. Yes, I should do more research on it.

revolute--daylily--Ann Brauer

"Down south". A daylily of substance I got up at Olallies. Look at the little ruffles on the edges of the petals and the unusual shapes. Isn't that cool? And yes, that is tradescenta in the background. Love the contrast in color.

down south--daylily--Ann Brauer

And now a couple from Dan Bachman who has a garden Valley of the Daylilies in Ohio. Yes, I confess that visiting this garden is on my "bucket list" but luckily for me they also have a web site. http://www.thevalleyofthedaylilies.com/ And he does have the best names for  his flowers. This is "shouting the blues".

shouting the blues--daylily--Ann Brauer

And "cheetah wheelies." Oh it is hard to take a picture of this one. But so much fun.

cheetah wheelies--daylily--Ann Brauer

And yes, spiders are not all yellows. There are reds and purples and whites that I really want. But enough for now. Oh so much to do. So many questions. So much to absorb in such a short time. Does this ever happen to you? What interests you?

joy in the garden

OK--in case you haven't figured it out--I love my garden. It is wild and unorganized. Planted so full of flowers that this week-end I did not even go look at more Japanese iris. I need to figure out what I can limit or move before I add anything else--sigh!!  Rows of daylilies that fold onto each other. Peas draped over fences. Leeks just starting to fatten up. What is it about color that moves me so? Why is there so much joy here? Why is this the place I go when I just want to be--if you know what I mean?

How can I resist my new daylily--jolly red giant. So tall and proud making a statement of being.

 The casual exuberance of Easy Ned. So bright and cheerful.

The perfection of this one--not sure of its name. Look at the details. So subtle but sure of itself. I had a plant that had grown there may have died out. But still lovely isn't it?

The extravagance of my Japanese iris chigokesho. I just got it last year. I confess I could not resist all the detail and the colors. Delicious aren't they?

The contrast of the daylily ping and the iris foreign intruder. Aren't those colors wonderful together? And yes there are more "susans" and daisies than there should be. Room perhaps next year for more iris and daylilies.

And you--do you have a garden? What the delights you are seeing this year?  What are your favorite flowers? Have you figured out what makes gardens so joyful?

is there ever anything new?

Recently there has been a great discussion on the daylily robin that I belong to--the question is whether with more than 60,000 daylilies registered and more than 1000 more getting registered every year--is it still possible for a backyard hybridizer to create a new and distinctive daylily. What more can be done? Sure, there is still the quest for the blue daylily--good luck. And some of the daylilies from the South just don't open in the North. But--don't many of the daylilies begin to look like each other anyway? How do you tell one from the other--is a flower that is four inches across that different from one that is 5 inches across?

Great questions. Indeed on my Studio Art Quilt forum the same issues are being raised. Is it possible to create new quilts that are distinctive and art? Has everything that can be said, been said? How far can the medium of quilts be pushed? And is the act of pushing sufficient or should we just make quilts? Are we too eager for the new?

I look around at my garden. There are so many flowers I love. I love watching new flowers open up. See the clumps develop in my garden. The mysteries of trahlyta. Exuberant. Unfolding patterns that resonate in a clump.

The joy of morning for flamingos--notice how the petals curve round and the slight ruffling at the edge.

The lush color of imperial lemon that opens up into the sunlight. Note the distinctive veins.

These are all lovely--but isn't there something more I want? Not only in terms of more flowers--although it may be possible to have too many flowers.   No, I want to know my flowers better. I am a curious person and the potential discovery of seeing a new flower I created interests me. But I can't do it all. A scattershot approach does not work.  It takes two or three years for a daylily up north to grow from seed to mature flower. How many duds do I need on the off-chance that I get something lovely? Shouldn't my time be well spent?

I read a wonderful post by Bob Faulkner--a backyard hybridizer known for his intricately patterned daylilies. He began his expedition into hybridizing because he did not have the money to purchase the flowers he wanted. You can see images of his work here--well, worth checking out. The key he says is FOCUS. Create an image of the daylily you are trying to create--maybe sketch it out. All of the characteristics. Verbalize it. You know--the elevator speech we are all taught to give. What are you trying to do in two sentences. Research. Keep notes. Compost those plants that are not on the path to the goal.

I think about it--yes, I want a tall plant. Dainty and dancing in the sun. Not necessarily yellow. I get some ideas. Start the research. I can begin to picture it. I make notes of ideas. Polly love--but much taller. Maybe a bit pinker? More trumpet like? Not sure yet.

But this is fun. I love the tall flowers I have--citrina. Dancing in the sunlight. I love the process--careful and planned with of course the element of surprise. Isn't that the same thing that quiltmakers or artists should be doing?  The same FOCUS that will make our work truly unique and distinctive. After all if we are true to ourselves then our work will only be like us and we are each unique individuals. I think of the mysteries of landscapes. That edge between what is and the place we take ourselves. Isn't that what I want to keep exploring? Isn't that an answer? At least for me at this point in time.

And you--what are you trying to explore? What is essential? Or do you approach it differently?

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Recently I have been thinking about the poem by the great Lewis Carroll about the Walrus and the Carpenter. I knew this poem well as a child--haven't thought of it recently. Do you remember it?

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Were walking close at hand;

They wept like anything to see

Such quantities of sand:

"If this were only cleared away,"

They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops

Swept it for half a year.

Do you suppose," the Walrus said,

"That they could get it clear?"

"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,

And shed a bitter tear.

This time it was quoted by the unstoppable Miss Lanny on the Robin of the American Daylily Society. Now I have yet to meet this wonderful lady--and lady she definitely is--but I always look forward to her well thought out posts about life and hybridizing daylilies with her son and his wife--yes, they eloped at a daylily convention--these folks are very passionate and committed. Don't you just love listening to people who know something so well?  In this case they breed wonderful winter hardy clear colored daylilies--you can check out here. Isn't the Internet fabulous?


Well Miss Lanny and her family  realized they needed to add 130 new daylily beds--remember I said they are passionate about daylilies--and after the marriage they had another hybridizer who needed room for her daylilies.  So they ordered 122 tons of crushed stone, four truckloads of compost, lots of good top soil. I forget everythin--it doesn't matter anyway--you get the picture--endless mounds  that had to be moved into the new beds--often by wheelbarrow loads into the new beds. Tractors couldn't do many of the tasks.  How do you start? One wheelbarrow load at a time.


I was thinking of this when I began sewing the new quilt together. Now I love to make large pieces. The large canvas that can almost encompass the viewer. As I wrote about HERE--size can matter.

are you where you should be?

To get to the garden is not easy nor is it difficult, but it is an
experience.  The big problem is a psychological one of wondering if you're
really where you should be.  Once this feeling is overcome you begin to
relax and enjoy the serenity of the drive.

Isn't that absolutely beautiful? How true it is--let me repeat it--the biggest problem is a psychological one of wondering if you're really where you should be.

The article continues: .....The journey is short, but if it is your first time it may seem long.
The road is narrow.....

When you get there the garden is informal, easy to look at, and belies the fact that a hybridizer is at work.
 

These comments came from a visit that  Bill Munson made to  Solano Grove--the garden of Vera McFarland near St Augustine.  It is from *The Hemerocallis Journal*, December
1973, pages 33-36, and was written by Bill Munson. I read it on the Daylily Robin which is open to all members of the American Hemerocallis Society. Both Bill and Vera were well-known and respected hybridizers. I put more of the article at the end of the post. The writing is gorgeous. And yes, I am glad to be a member of AHS.

I think about these words of the visit as I contemplate the winter that is now passing. It was a long hard winter here. The snow came and lasted. Mud season went on and on. Many mornings I had to hike down the hill to my van and then hike home in the afternoon. It was cold.  More cold. Then more snow.

For my quilts it has also been a season of self-doubt and exploration. New works. Endless trying and learning. Some worked well--I love the pillows and purses. The eyeglass cases. You can see some HERE. Others are ideas not there yet--still waiting. A slow process of creating quilts that are true. Agonizing and squinting. The journey seems long. The road narrow.

Last week I visited my in-laws by the ocean. As you may remember it was a cloudy misty time--memories ebbing and flowing with the tides. The clouds hung so low and thick there was no direction to the day. I wrote about it HERE.

When I returned I had to settle--to make a quilt. A quilt of this time of mist and mystery. Soft colors-- hints and undercurrents. Slight slow movement. The calm and mystery. The ocean was gentle. The visit was gentle. The colors came together simple and sure. Complex colors that combine for a story. A mood of longing and remembering. Soft and gentle. Informal. Belying the struggles and thought in its creation. Almost done. Then I will sew it together.

Gorgeous colors aren't they? Simple and haunting. I love it when a piece works.  This is what I do.  This is my journey and path. It looks simple but it is not always easy.  The forsythia will bloom today. There are daffodils and crocuses. Little fans of daylilies are nudging out of their slumber. The deep reds of Highland Lord--hybridized by of course Bill Munson.  I can't wait.The layers of purple and mauve with the green/yellow eye of Pharoah's Treasure--you can see it HERE. Aren't the names divine? I go to Flickr and find pages of images of his daylilies--just like his writing, simple and complex. I want them all. Do check them out HERE.  I don't have any daylilies by Vera McFarland--maybe I need "Frivolous Frills" or "Super Double Delight". But does that even matter. Spring is coming. The quilts are coming together. I am where I should be. Is there any more to ask from life?

 And you--are you where you should be? How do you know? How do you decide? What do you think of the quilt? And is it spring finally where you live?



For those who want to read more of the article--here it is from the Daylily Robin. If you like flowers I strongly recommend joining AHS--couldn't ask for a nicer group of people.

"Solano Grove is west of St. Augustine on the east bank of the St. John's
River.  The only major landmark to guide your turn from the State Road 13 is
an over-sized mail box.  Once the mailbox is found you stop and open a gate
and start your journey to the Grove....."


The peacefulness of the following description of Vera McFarland's Solano
Grove appealed to me today.  It is from *The Hemerocallis Journal*, December
1973, pages 33-36, and was written by Bill Munson.  But I have put only a
few excerpts from the first two pages.  All that follows is quoted:




.....To convey the picturesque beauty of this unique garden spot would take
the touch of a poet.  For this garden is unique.  It blends the natural
beauty of the hammock land with the gardening philosophy of its owner,
planner and keeper, Vera McFarland.


.....The majestic oaks, the silent river, the cascading Spanish moss, the
forest birds all exemplifying the quietude that was once so much a part of
our lives and now gone, but experienced again at Solano Grove.  Only the
unwelcome intrusion of a motor boat on the river or a jet high above the
canopy of the trees betrays the 20th Century harangue.


To get to the garden is not easy nor is it difficult, but it is an
experience.  The big problem is a psychological one of wondering if you're
really where you should be.  Once this feeling is overcome you begin to
relax and enjoy the serenity of the drive.


.....The journey is short, but if it is your first time it may seem long.
The road is narrow.....  Wild turkey and quail can often be seen as you
drive along.  Cross a small rustic-type bridge and enter a small cleared
area and you know at once you are at Solano Grove.


The river is on your right only a few yards away.  The hammock is on your
left even closer, and straight ahead is a grove of oaks whose canopy of
limbs, leaves, and Spanish moss shelter the garden below.  The garden is
informal, easy to look at, and belies the fact that a hybridizer is at work.


Large drifts and mass plantings of daylilies abound.  The soil is sandy, but
rich and the water level generally high.  Several times during the year low
portions of the garden may be under water.  Because of this Vera is forced
many times to plant on raised beds or rows.  But whatever the conditions the
flowers love it here.


Small chameleon and garden spiders watch as you enter their world.  Time
seems to have stood still and the silence engulfs you.


Soon Vera joins you and is effervescent over a new seedling that has
bloomed.....

no more kale!!!

 Finally spring has come. Yesterday was just right for playing in the soil. I planted a row of peas. Spread some lime. Pulled up the few plants that I had not gotten to last fall. Tried to plan the garden for this year. Where do the tomatoes go? The green beans? The cukes?

Now for me, you must understand that my garden is a hobby--where I play before I go to the studio. On summer evenings after I come home from work.  I don't preserve the food for winter--well, I did make three jars of brandied peaches last year. Yummy!!! Sometimes I freeze a few tomatoes. But for the most part, I cook with what I grow in the summer and that's it. I am a quilt maker--and in the end, even this blog post will be about quilts--please bear with me.

So although my garden is large enough, space is at a premium. Now I dearly love flowers--Siberian iris, Japanese iris, echinacea, and especially daylilies. I love my daylilies. Probably have a couple hundred. I am even a member of the American Hemerocallis Society and in July the colors in my garden are wonderful reds and oranges, yellows and plums which inspired this quilt--the colors of summer.

See it really is "the garden formerly known as the vegetable garden." The veggies are tucked into the corners. Always a challenge to find new places to grow the tomatoes. Rotate the crops.

So I read with interest Pat Leuchtman's blog post recently in The Greenfield Recorder--my local paper. This is her blog site here although the article has not been posted yet. She was writing about gardening in small spaces. A vegetable garden only needs 100 square feet of space she said. Oh I like this. One common mistake people make is to grow things that are easy to grow--such as kale--but which they then don't eat.

That is my problem. Sure I love kale in soup. Portuguese bean soup with spicy sausage and kale. An occasional meal. But no matter how good it is for me--let's face it--I don't eat that much. Think of the space I will have if I just plant the veggies that I know I want--the basil and lettuce, the hot peppers--love having them in the garden, the zukes--yes, they are so good when they are tiny, parsley. Celery--that was such a treat last year. I used it over and over again. What else?

And isn't that the secret to making quilts also. (See, this really is a blog about making quilts after all.) Why make the things that don't sell? Or the items that I dread creating--yes, there is such a thing?  Isn't life supposed to be fun? Why not clean out the fabrics that I haven't used in years? Certainly they could find a good home?

I no longer make baby quilts--haven't for years. No more pieced quilts. They don't interest me. If I have added the new purses and pillows, the eyeglass cases that I posted on my web site--what can I discontinue? And you what is your "kale"?  How do you prioritize? And what does your garden look like?

spring fever

As I promised in my last post, as soon as I began setting up for the Paradise City Arts Festival this week-end spring came. Now obviously part of the reason is that I am in a warmer area than Shelburne Falls. Of course. A few hundred feet lower and closer to the ocean. There is almost no snow here. Also as luck would have it, the weather did turn delightfully warm and sunny.

So what is a quiltmaker who is tired of winter to do? Well I decided that I just had to set up as quickly as possible and head out to the Tower Hill Botanical Gardens in Boylston, MA--less than 10 minutes from the show. Now I confess I had driven by the sign for Tower Hill many times--even picked up their brochure once or twice--but I had never been there. However, I couldn't think of any reason not to go. Sometimes when spring comes you just have to enjoy it--right?

So I got the directions and drove--it really did not take long until I got to the entrance--what was it going to be like. The volunteer taking my money smiled and said just enjoy it. I drove up the road--past the apple orchard--it turns out they have 115 varieties of heirloom apples and there it was.
Wow. This place was so much more than I expected. Beautiful vistas. So many different gardens. The lawn garden itself has 350 different varieties of trees and shrubs--almost all of which are very carefully labeled. Outside there were snow crocuses and snowdrops. 

I headed for the Orangerie. I must say I love those large horticultural buildings with lots of glass and plants. Isn't it wonderful?

Inside so many types of oranges--most of them bearing fruit. And yes, lots of sculptures everywhere in many different styles.

Trees almost to the top of the roof. And color. Look at the bright red on this bromeliad. There was an entire area that emphasized red. Bromeliads, coleus. Red palms. And they were all bright and alive.

There were fountains with exotic flowers floating in them. Wonderful arrangements made with the patterns of the leaves. Of course I loved this fan palm. So simple and elegant.

This succulent had great designs too--I forgot its name.

Outside a lovely courtyard with two turtles as fountains in the pond. Another pond in the courtyard--the algae pond had rock that was once underneath Lake Erie in Ohio. Such great texture.

Then time to explore a bit outside. Of course I had to hike to the summit of Tower Hill. Now don't think I overextended myself--the summit is only 640 some feet high but look at this view of Mt Wachusetts with the Wachusetts Reservoir. And of course throughout there were lots of benches for sitting.

Then off to see The Folly. Follies I knew were once built in castles in England--to look like abandoned architecture. This one was built by a woman to commemorate her husband. On my way there I learned that Henry David Thoreau was actually the first to write about the succession of growth in forests. He was actually working on a book about Forest Ecology at the time of his death. His office had been near the Worcester Horticultural Society which runs Tower Hill. I learn something new every day.

Isn't that fun? Then alas I realized that I still needed to price my work but not before deciding that I may just have to get an Alaska Weeping Cedar--what a wonderful tree that is. And I know I will now have to come back soon. I saw so many daffodils just peeking their heads up out of the ground. So many shrubs and perennials. I never made it to the Rustic Pavilion or the Moss Steps. I even have a daylily group that meets here once a month--I may have to start attending their meetings.

But then until today I had also never made it to Tower Hill. Have you? Don't you just love little adventures like this? Do you have any finds to share?

too soon, too young

Grey skies. Another rainy day. A chill in the air. I go up to my garden. Where there had been a jumble of the bright pure colors of my daylilies,  now only a few late blooms. Each one more precious by its solitude-- poignant in its last colors. Gone are the extravagant ruffles and patterns of the summer. Now there are the subtle soft hues of the simple flowers. Little hints of edges. Colors complex only as they echo the sun lessening in its warmth. Colors made even softer by the gentle mist falling.

 The throats a soft yellow. The ribs a hint of white.

Almost a quiet cry of the season passing.

The first maples turning against the green. Precursors of October.

The weather, the change of the seasons echo my mood. My heart is aching. I have learned of the unbearable loss of one too young, too talented, with too much promise. Gone. Suddenly.  Not one I knew as well as some--but one cherished by those whom I cherish most. To his family an incomprehensible, unspeakable tragedy. To the community and all who knew him devastating.

I cannot wrap my mind around this. Stunned and silent, I go outside and tear wild grapes strangling trees in the woods. I pull grass from the iris beds.  Never have they been so clean and tidy. There is purpose and anger in my actions.

At The Textile Co. only the muted colors of autumn intrique me. Soft complex colors of memory and sorrow. The greens of longing. Dark purples and greys, mauve and soft salmon. These are the colors that speak to me. The quilt I must make.

Soon the sun will return with the lush greens of September, the  brilliant reds and oranges, golds and purples of October. Crisp clear days. Then pure white snow. I will remember the smile. The twinkle in his eyes. The sense of adventure and sureness. But not yet.


Rest in peace oh absent one. You will be missed.

it's peak season

It's peak season in the garden. Such a fleeting joyous time. The time when the flowers outnumber the foliage. From a distance the garden is a riot of colors and shapes. So hard to capture the magic in a picture.

In my eye I focus on the reds, the yellows. Amazing how you see things different from what the camera snaps.

Up close there are the individual flowers to examine closely and absorb. The complex glow of lily dache.  Glorious isn't it?

The patterns of homeplace widget. Don't you just love it? I think this is its first season blooming here. I must make a note to move it. Rarely do I use the word--but it does apply, doesn't it?

The patterns and colors of the seedling. Maybe not the best daylily but look at those great patterns and colors. I can't wait to see it next year when it should also have some siblings blooming.

So much to see and do. At the studio I started a new big quilt a couple weeks ago for the PA Guild Fine Craft Fair in Wilmington, DE July 31 and August 1 trying to capture the completeness of the season. This was what I got done last week.

And below is what I've done this week. Still so much to do. Two more rows of dark blue to piece forthe top. And then sewing it all together. What was I thinking? Especially during peak season.

I know it will be wonderful. But can I get it done? I wake up every morning as early as I can. Water the garden--we've had just enough rain to fill the barrels so I can water guilt free. Then head off to the studio to do another row or two. At five or so, I head home--exhausted, grab a bite to eat, then head out to the garden to admire, enjoy and alas--weed.

So brief the season is. Already today I noticed that some of my favorite daylilies are on their last flower.  I need more late daylilies though I'm not sure where I'll plant them. I need to finish the quilt in time. Let's face it--I need more time. Do you ever have periods like this? How do you do it?