Neighbours passed my house when the irises were in their full glory.
“Your irises are lovely,” one said. “Too bad they don’t last longer.”
“Well, I guess they’re here for when they’re supposed to be,” I said. “After the spring flowers and before everything else.”
Early spring snowdrops were long gone, and my tulips and daffodils had already lost their heads. But the alliums had not yet burst out in their fireworks shape, and the poppies, bee balm and clematis were still forming buds.
The irises, between all of that, waved their purple heads at passers by.
It’s not the irises job to carry the load of my garden beauty for the whole summer. They perform spectacularly right where they are planted, at exactly the right time, and they enjoy everyone’s full attention.