The Iri

Best days of the year, peeps, best days.

No, I'm not talking about the late-May freezing cold, or all the rain.

I'm talking about the gigantic blossoming irises.

They look like they're all doing sign language, those glorious purple irises, iris, iri . . .

. . . don't they?

I think they even have, like, gang genus signs.

What? Oh yes, that's me, impervious, reading in the middle of an iris patch, whilst Mistah is lying down on the grass beside me, taking photos. What a huge gigantic surprise*.

*Not.

But back to les fleurs , to their perfection, their beauty . . .

. . .  their complete in-the-moment joyousness . . .

Happy Memorial Day, lovelies.