I is for Irises

Ah, Irises. When I think of them, I am again transported back to my childhood. I know my father had a bunch in his yard. But more of my memories are from studying Van Gogh in my art class in Montessori elementary. We studied this Van Gogh painting and had to make our own reproductions.

(Photo from Wikimedia Commons)

I knew that my grandmother loved irises, so I gave it to my mother to give to her. She proudly displayed it on the wall in her room of the nursing home. I always felt proud when I went to visit her and saw it up there.

When she passed away from Alzheimer's, I remember asking my mother if I could please have my painting back. In fact, I cried and pleaded. Mom told me that they had given it to someone else to enjoy. Translation: It was probably thrown away.

Since then, every time I see irises, I think about my grandmother. I love the purple color and I love the warm and fuzzy memories. But I have never put them in my yard.

Irises have an incredible bloom, but they fade away so soon. And all you are left with are those pointy leaves. I love different kinds of leaves, but the leaves of the iris just don't do it for me.

I keep considering planting some along the back side of my house or along the back side of my garage. That way I can be sure to enjoy them while the blooms are there, but won't be so bothered by the left-behind leaves.

Otherwise, I'm just going to stick with Van Gogh.