I don't know why I love iris so much... but I do. When I was a very little girl my grandmother had a bed of iris in her garden and all I can remember is the thick patch of sharp, upright foliage that was about chin height to my three year-old frame, nothing to fall in love with for sure. They only bloomed about two weeks out of the year. But somehow the lovely French icon captured my imagination and I have been enthralled with them ever since I owned a tiny patch of land to plant them.
This year I followed pattern of years before and ordered a signification amount of iris for my new garden in SJC. I can never decide, then I order way too many, and wait for months before my jewels-in-the rough arrive in their unassuming packages.
Here is what my dreams of amazingly beautiful flowers are riding on... this pathetic little tuber with merely a hope of grandeur. But I know what will happen because I have done this many times before. There will be blooms of unspeakable beauty and I will be amazed... as I always am! The essence of why we garden.