I’m sure this must seem unremarkable — an iris in bloom, big whip. But to me it is miraculous, because nearly seven years ago, most of my irises turned to dust. They developed black leaf spot, or fungal rot, or something from which I could not save them. And one by one I watched them melt away. Mysteriously, a few hardy plants clung to life, sending up fresh leaves each year but never flowering.
Now, this day, I have iris blooms again springing from those tough, resilient, never-to-say-die stragglers. I am awed and humbled. Plus, I’m glad that for sentimental reasons I refused to dig those determined iris leaves from my perennial bed.
Life’s good, and patience truly is a virtue. Today, I am a very happy woman.