When embarking on road trips, it’s often the profusion of wildflowers – lining highways, flourishing in abandoned lots, and blanketing fallow fields – that leave a lasting mark, even more than renowned gardens or botanical wonders we might explore.

On a journey in mid-July, weaving through the Berkshires, venturing into Northwestern Connecticut, and looping back, one plant stood out: Hemerocallis fulva, commonly referred to as the “ditch lily.” We spotted it thriving both in meticulously cared-for places and wild, untouched spaces.

What makes this ubiquitous plant, one often overlooked or even labeled as “invasive” by many gardeners, so captivating to me? (For the record, it isn’t officially invasive in my state). Why would its presence resonate so deeply when it’s such a familiar sight every season?

Its omnipresence during our trip was its very charm. Its abundant orange clusters painted a vivid canvas. It’s no surprise it’s also dubbed the “Fourth of July” lily, bursting forth with color like timely fireworks.

While having it in my garden might eventually dull its allure for me – especially with its dominant foliage in the latter months – its wild proliferation is what enthralls me. It’s akin to my fascination with the violas that carpet my front yard in spring or the urge to gather bunches of goldenrod come September.

Were I a Californian, the spring poppies would bring the same joy. As a Texan, the bluebonnet season would be my annual delight.

This overwhelming burst of color is something I seldom achieve in my own garden, where a sea of a single hue often remains elusive.

There’s an innate beauty in observing a singular species reigning supreme. However, a similar plant showcasing a spectrum of shades would be equally enthralling.

I’m not keen on trudging through soggy terrains in spring hunting for hepaticas or painted trilliums. I favor plants that boldly display their beauty, like the conspicuously charming geranium maculatum.

Yet, my thoughts often drift back to the humble ditch lily. Despite escaping cultivation, braving human disdain, and resisting deer nibbles, it stands tall and demands attention.

Admirable, indeed.