everyday delights: wild irises
tonight i was taking a walk–during walks i always listen to podcasts instead of music–and on a fluke i played the most recent “this american life”, which i haven’t listened to in probably years.
one of the guests was ross gay, who compiled a small book of essay-ettes called “the book of delights.” example: carrying a tomato seedling through an airport. this book has been on my to-read list ever since john green recommended it in one of his videos, and now: 1) i definitely want to grab the book and 2) i’ve found some inspiration to do some sort of blogging.
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in the springtime, it’s always a surprise to be on a drive or a walk and see a sudden burst of tall color in the ditches where wild irises have sprouted up. sometimes they’re the traditional blue or purple, and other times they’re dark red or yellow. i’ve seen more wild irises this spring than i have in several years past.
tonight i almost missed them, off the side of the road as the cattails and other ditch detritus were already reaching to their full heights, as the sun was slanting slowly toward the horizon. i just happened to glance toward them and saw curves of purple from the corner of my eye – just some irises claiming a small spot in a ditch to push through to bloom.
irises always remind my of my uncle squire; he had a patch on the east side of his small house in austin, and for memorial day we’d cut some of the blooms on their sturdy stalks and take them to lay on the graves of people i’d never met but in stories and memories.