Busy, busy. School ends this week, and I've spent the entire weekend pulling together a slideshow for the school picnic, and making "Goodbye Books" for the kids in my class.
My grandmother's irises are putting on a spectacular show this year. Her house, a rather rundown triple decker, had a scraggly line of irises along the chainlink fence. She was not a gardener at all, and I wonder who planted them. They always managed to bloom in the Spring, and she was quite proud of her only flowers.
When she died and we were getting the house ready to sell (which involved three truckloads of 50-year old junk to be hauled to the dump), my cousins and I dug up the irises. My cousins and my aunts each took a few clumps for our own gardens. They were a bit slow in establishing, but now each June they explode, and remind me of Nana.