I love my iris. They ask for so little. Oh, you can fuss with them if you want; a search on the Internet tells me they must be divided every once in awhile if they are to thrive. But in the old yard, I never did a thing but enjoy them, and they bloomed faithfully for years. The sister-in-law who is living in our old house likes to do things right (in other words, she isn't lazy like me), so she moved them and thinned them and treated them properly. They don't mind that, either.
The flowers I moved back here from the old yard hold fond memories of the friend who gave me the start of them.
And then there are the ones I ordered online; they are the ones that continue to surprise me. Remember a few days ago when I showed you my first iris of the year?
One of these is showing a little color.
This one is farther behind.
Here's my point: My mother complained that iris' bloom too brief a time, but I've found that if you have several varieties, the iris season lasts several weeks. I believe my red one was the last one to bloom, last year.
And by the time my last iris blooms, the day lilies will have begun showing their colors. Then the coneflowers and hibiscus will start, and last all summer until frost. Flowers are one of God's best ideas, and I am exceedingly glad there are so many varieties of flowers that don't make me work too hard.