Iris
My son Facetimes me, walking around the base in Germany with his tablet. Here is his barracks, here is the DEFAC, here is the commissary. “Look at these, Mom.” He turns
the tablet camera to a clump of flowers growing in a muddy median between sidewalks, blue-green sword-like leaves, purple petals curled up like cupped hands, others flowing down like a formal gown. “Iris,” I tell him, though I think he knows.
I find a single flower growing in the swamp behind our apartment building, surrounded by weeds. Regardless of the competition, the iris seems to thrive in the damp soil, its blossom generous and bright. I snap a photo and post it on Facebook, tagging my son.
Later I sit in my mother’s living room, looking out the window at her iris, a yellow with deep purple variety framed by white peonies, and open my computer. I check my Facebook notifications and see my son has liked one of my photos. I click the notice and the iris flower photograph pops up on my screen.
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This piece was published in the Volume 36, №3 issue of the Landis Arboretum’s newsletter. ( http://thelandisnewsletter.weebly.com/whole-article/writing-in-harmony-with-the-natural-world-offers-creative-opportunity )
