The other morning I went for a walk, returning via an alley that leads to our street. Why the alley? Well, one reason is that the backs of houses are kind of a friendly place, where the personalities show up more. But the other reason is that there are a lot of irises planted along one house's back fence, and they are in full bloom.
I first remember encountering real irises when I was 19 years old, in the first springtime I had ever experienced in my life. Walking around my college town, it was amazing to see these gorgeous big flowers in all hues and designs, perfuming the air.
The name "iris" comes from the Greek word for "rainbow," which makes sense, as there are around 300 kinds of irises, of every color, so I have read. Apparently irises are found in both perfumes and medicines, as well as being used for aromatherapy. And the rhizomes are given to babies as something to gnaw on, to help them get through teething. (Do not try this unless under medical supervision.)
One type of iris,
Wikipedia notes, is effective against lymph sarcoma and some other kinds of cancers.
I have long been fond of the irises in Vincent van Gogh's paintings. It was a bit surprised when I found out, after seeing one of his originals in California, and then spotting another in Paris, that he painted many versions of his irises. It does seem odd to see them flourishing on umbrellas and bookbags.
Another piece of trivia about irises: they are the basis for the fleur-de-lis on various things French. Additionally, they are the state flower of Tennessee.
I really should get around to planting some irises in our own yard. In the meantime, the irises in the alley and the blue and purple irises planted by our neighbors along our shared property line will do the trick.
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