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| My Irises |
It seems that nature plays a mean trick on the iris. They are given such beautiful bountiful blooms on slender weak stalks that they fall to the ground with the weight of the flowers. I looked out my kitchen window this morning, and half of my irises were nestled in the grass. After days of drenching rain, their yellow bearded heads were lush and heavy. They begged to be cut and removed from their bed in the lawn, so they could be admired standing tall in a vase. I left one bouquet at the home of a friend without telling her from whom they had come. It will be a pleasant surprise on a dreary, drizzly day.
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