Grape Popsicle Iris

by Franny
(Louisville, Kentucky)

When I was a child, I loved helping my mother with her gardens. We didn't have much money, but we always had a beautiful yard full of colorful flowers, and plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden.

In the spring we would be excited to see the first bulb plants bloom. Crocuses popping up in the snow. Then, a little later, cheery yellow daffodils coming up with the first shoots of green. And, of course, tulips.

But my favorite bulb flower was the iris.

My mother had a special path lined with iris plants. When they bloomed, I loved to play on this path, back and forth, making up stories with the iris flowers as characters. We had plenty of the classic purple iris, with its deep wine and pale violet and almost white sections, and the bright yellow center. And the sweet spring yellows, with a tiny hint of white. And a few all white blooms with only the tiniest hint of lavender.

The iris smelled like grapes to me, like grape popsicles.

Their textures fascinated, velvety in one spot, silky and satiny in another.

I remember that sometimes my mother dug up certain bulbs and stored them in a cool spot indoors for the winter, perhaps if an especially harsh winter was expected. I would see them in a corner of the garage, wrapped in newspaper and tied with string, a few crumbles of dried dirt spilling out around them. She would replant them after the ground thawed in the spring.

Many years later, my mother still has bulbs flowers growing from those originals, thriving all this time under her loving care.

Next time I visit, I will ask for a few starts, and plot out my own lovely and sweet-smelling bulb garden.

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