The tops of 12 iris plants are poking around a snow drift today, begging for sunshine and light, freedom from the darkness of winter. This winter somehow sneaked up on us, as if every November wasn’t a fading swan song of warmth. Our gardens sit a disheveled mess of remains from last year’s attempts at cultivating beauty, with the hope of this year’s shoots forcing their way through the wreckage and into the air. Snow be damned, forgotten lily leaves curl away, these irises belong here, outside our kitchen window, bringing color into the grayness that has lasted too damn long.
What are you looking for?
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