My "Marie White" Irises in beautiful bloom. I think I've posted about them before, so some of you probably remember the story. So, here is a short version:
Many, many years ago, Marie and I lived across the street from each other. She, it turned out, liked to watch me tend to my front yard garden. That is why after she moved to a nursing home, she called me with a special request. She was a painter, she said, and she had always wanted to paint Bearded Irises. If she sent me some, would I plant them, so that she could come and paint them? Of course, I enthusiastically agreed. The end of the story is that Marie died before her irises first bloomed, and they have kept on blooming, even when I moved them with me to a new house. I cherish them and imagine Marie painting them. (Note: Suffrage colors, plus an imagined gold.)