Andy’s Mom loved these blue iris, something we had in common, as irises were one of my favorite flowers as a child. Back then, it was the bearded iris that held my interest – with their gloriously larger-than-life form (beard and all) along with their spicy fragrance. The garden at the Ko house had a border of bearded iris, where they bloomed right around the time the peonies were putting on their show, just before the Centaurea and their bee-enticing flowers came into play.
As I grew older, and my gardening tastes refined, my preference for bearded iris shifted to the Siberian and Japanese varieties, which were more elegant, bloomed later in the season, but sacrificed some of that distinctive scent. Their foliage was also a deeper green, and much less rigid than the stiff swords of their bearded brethren.
Andy brought this big bouquet of blue iris for our Sunday brunch a couple of weeks ago. We both needed a dose of spring. A few days of a fleeting February thaw weren’t enough; these flowers gave us happy hope. They remind us of sunnier days.
Luckily we also noticed that the light is lasting a few minutes longer with each passing day. The eyes of an iris look ahead to the spring, and so do we.
