It is actually cloudy and rainy here in drought-stricken southern Colorado, but it’s going to take a lot of rain to reach the target of 7 inches for the year. It won’t happen today. Having lived in California so long where fire restrictions in the mountains are strict, I’m amazed that people are upset that they can’t have campfires. There are a lot of great camp stoves on the market so it isn’t about food (except maybe s’mores). It must be some latent primordial urge to gather around the camp fire and sing “Kum-ba-yah.” I just want to yell, “Get over it. You can have a good time without a campfire.” The fire near the town of Durango is so large and dangerous, that the San Juan National Forest has been closed. Some guy even posted (in protest) on Facebook that it’s unconstitutional to close a national forest.
The first year I moved here, I bought a few expensive iris from some fancy company. Of course, I forgot what they were called, but who cares? I wanted them to grow. I wasn’t going to call them in for dinner. This year — their third year — sticking their pretty faces out toward the sun — they’ve been so beautiful and so cheering. I’ll separate them this fall and share them with my neighbors. I have also been given iris by friends and it’s a very sweet thing to walk around the neighborhood and see our gardens sending up brothers and sister flowers.
I love iris – for themselves and for nostalgic reasons. My parents planted a little field of them outside our back fence in Englewood (their first house) and when I was old enough — 4 or 5 — and had colored pencils, my dad told me to draw them. They were the simple beautiful purple iris and drawing them was a kind of magic.
In those same years, my Aunt Kelly lived next door to a man who’d turned his whole back yard — 1/4 acre+ — over to irises. She’d come to visit with actual ARM loads of irises. She and my mom would rush to find vases for all them. The fragrance filled the house.
In California, irises were hard to grow so I didn’t have any until I moved up to the mountains (3500 feet) where we had a few snows a year and cold temps in winter. I had a field of iris and I was very happy.
Here are a few pictures — not nearly all the different ones I have but during some of their blooming time, I wasn’t all that ambulatory.