this is the same subject matter as yesterday’s post, but with a different focus. the seeds inside these iris seed pods were lined up like kernels on ears of corn and i love the vivid little grains of russet red still left inside that one dessicated pod. but what i love most about this composition is how it changes what you think of when you think of the word “iris.” part of seasonal thinking is understanding that the oak tree is as much an oak with winter shreds of potato colored leaves hanging from its bare branches as when it is a looming and majestic crown of summer green. likewise, this black, dragon-mouthed bouquet of dry seed pods is as much an iris as its lance-leaved, blue-flowered summer incarnation. let’s love both of them, and all of the irises in between, including the bulb, frozen in silt beneath the ice all winter long, not waiting to become a flower, but actually perfectly content to be a bulb for the time of year that irises are supposed to be bulbs.
close up wild blue flag iris gone to seed