It’s been raining for hours, drumming on the leaves and dripping from the furred tongues of irises, which sway ever so slightly on their tall stalks.
irises
The rains continue. The last peony blossom collapsed in the night, and the last purple iris has opened. Where mowed grass had died, there’s a blush of green.
Overcast and cool. In the garden, lily-of-the-valley flowers have faded to brown like old lampshades, while irises stick out their velvety tongues.