Gardening, 101: Iris germanica

Friday, 10 May
This afternoon I planted some Asclepias syriaca and Phlox paniculata in the east side of the garden, beneath the Picea pungens, in a loose, casual arrangement; I am learning to group my plants together en masse and the effect is quite striking.
Slowly, the garden is taking shape, filling itself out and yet everywhere I look I observe messiness and untidiness.
I am tired.
I wonder, at times, what I am doing with all this. Surely, I ask myself, there must be more to life?
And then, I observed something wonderful: a brilliantly coloured yellow Iris germanica, very small and very delicate, emerging next to the old stump in front of The Cottage.
They were the gift of a kind friend and she did not remember their colour. “These have been in my garden for a long time,” she told me. “They are quite old stock, and small, but they are very beautiful.” “I thank you,” I said to her, “And I will enjoy these, truly.”
They did not seem to fare well at first, and I despaired. How truly small were the rhizomes, barely the size of one of my fingers and yet, somehow, in some fashion, slender spikes of delicate eau-de-Nil green emerged: small, so small, and yet alive and well.
I grouped them together in the very front of The Cottage, so that I might enjoy them always and appreciate their gift. It had been a very thoughtful gesture and I had been (and remained) deeply grateful. Now, I said to myself, I may thank her again, and meaningfully.
Today, the first blossom emerged: a brilliant, deep yellow fitting into the palm of my hand and as I gazed upon it in wonder, I remembered another yellow iris which I had tried to grow in my garden, and which had failed miserably. I had set out some rather hearty rhizomes last autumn and had been very pleased; they had taken root immediately and had even begun to send up new leaves.
But, alas, in the spring they revealed nothing and upon my examination I observed they had rotted from within, hollow and soft and dead and dead. I gathered them up, and threw them into the bin; it was a hard day for me and I did not understand. Surely, I reasoned, such things did not happen?
Nevertheless, it had happened and I had been quite sad about it. Yellow iris is my favourite flower; were I to plan my gardens over, perhaps it would become a feature of it, throughout and in my home, there is a drawing which I made many years ago and upon which I still gaze quite fondly.
The new iris, emerging outside the door, was a surprise and yet, as I looked at it, I began to comprehend it might not be such a surprise after all.
I had not remembered…but God had.
The yellow irises had died in the ground, rotted through and through. I had gathered them up and put them in the bin, and I had continued with my life, forgetting about them and not thinking too much about what I had lost, what beauty had been destroyed. God’s Will be done, I said, not my own.
But God had remembered…and I had forgotten.
Here, He said to me, look at these flowers, these yellow irises. Did you truly think I had forgotten? I have watched over you from your mother’s womb, I have carried you in darkness, I have held you in sorrow. You are My precious child, My own creation; no, I have not forgotten. The yellow irises were lost, but here they are again, and behold, even more beautiful than you imagined.
Oh God, You are truly wonderful!
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