Bearded purple irises are blooming outside the front door of my new home. And now yellow ones are blooming, too. I have long loved irises, but have never grown them. I’ve written about them a couple of other times though–irises and full circle rainbows and as part of the A to Z challenge that was, for me in 2017, all about flowers!
When I moved to Colorado last year, I saw irises everywhere. I always thought that they were delicate and hard to grow. But they sure seem happy here!
And these particular purple irises smell like grape candy! On my daily walks, sometimes I catch their scent and, sure enough, soon I come across a clump of these sweeties bobbing in the breeze.
Bearded purple irises–the poem, the scent
As I was walking this morning, and smelling the bearded purple irises, I noticed that the scent of these flowers evoked a certain feeling in me–a feeling of nostalgia. And a feeling of lovely alliteration, as well. So I came up with this:
Bearded purple iris
Smells like summer when I was eight
licking purple popsicles precariously perched
on wooden sticks.
Sometimes sliding to the ground
before I could finish–
a fabulous feast for the ants
Or dripping sticky syrup on sun-browned knees
to be rinsed off in a sprinkler run
or accumulate field fuzz as we searched for
dandelion puffs in the empty field.
Smells like grape Kool-Aid–
or Wylers, which was less expensive
but otherwise indistinguishable
served in colored aluminum cups
with ice clinking merrily against turquoise or pink metal
(I liked the turquoise!)
which fogged on the outside
and turned to drips as grimy fingers slid
down the smooth surface.
And finally, at the end of that endless summer day,
a lovely bath and shampoo and–
oh joy!–a grape jello rinse for my hair!
(or cherry or lime–but those aren’t purple bearded irises
and so are off-topic here)
Meant to tame my knotty curls
enough for a comb to slide thrugh
but also sending me off to sleep
with that sweet purple smell
that now wafts through my bedroom window.
Jello rinses
My mom read somewhere that a gelatin rinse helped curly hair be more manageable. She always used flavored jello. I remember asking her once if you weren’t supposed to use unflavored jello–even though I liked the smell of the flavored jello. She seemed so nonplussed by my question that I never brought it up again.
As I thought about this today, I wondered if it was really a thing–and it is! You can read about it here, among many other places.
And Poetry Friday
Margaret Simon over at Reflections on the Teche hosts Poetry Friday this week. She shares a golden shovel poem about kindness that she wrote to say goodbye to her students at the end of the school year in the midst of a pandemic and violence and protests. Check it out and see what other poets have to share this Friday, too–and share your own post! We need to hear everyone’s voice!
And thank you for stopping by.
xoxo
I love the irises, have some out in my garden, too. They are resilient and another one of those flowers that fill me with amazement with the bloom. I love reading your memories, Susan, the sticky popsicles and their slide off the stick. I’ve never heard about the gelatin helping curly hair, will pass that on to my daughter-in-law! Enjoy your Sunday!
Thanks, Linda. I’m not sure how much the gelatin really helped, but I sure enjoyed it. And it is a real thing still, so worth a try.
You had me at the scent of grape — you’re the first other person I know who smells that in irises — but then, the aluminum glasses with koolaid! So. Many. Memories.
Thanks, Mary Lee! Only one kind of irises in my yard smell like grapes to me. (Although the yellow ones smell faintly of lemon) I only got to use those glasses at friends’ houses–never convinced my mom to buy them, but they are still a quintessential part of my childhood summer memories.
This poem is chock-full of fabulous details! I love it. I could feel those cold, sweaty, metal cups in my hand. My niece, who did synchronized swimming, used to do something with jello in her hair, I think, before meets.