Goodbye Iris
Mom’s iris thrived
in the dry
Eastern Colorado climate.
Here,
I fear,
they won’t survive.
This low spot
is the plot
with sun
but it floods.
Their feet stay wet
and rot.
Nothing
and no one
lasts forever.
We must adapt
when it no longer works
to persevere.
I hope she would understand –
I tried.
And though not with iris
there are a thousand
other ways
I keep her memory alive.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2026 draft
.
Night before last, we had 4 inches of rain over the course of a couple of hours. The day before that was the first dry day after 11 days straight of rain. We have named the low spot in the easement and the iris bed “Lake Lincoln.” The zinnias are managing to deal with the constant intermittent flooding, but I’m afraid the iris are on their way out. I will save any I can and adapt to what seems to be the new normal of slow moving storms that produce torrential rains by planting a rain garden. (So far, we are more than 8 inches above our normal rainfall.) Although, it would be just my luck that the weather patterns would shift and we’d be thrown into the severe drought that other places in the country are suffering…
We’ve got a week of dry and cooler weather coming up next week and you can bet we’re going to enjoy it. The places around the area that had more severe flooding will be cleaning up and drying out. The parts of town that were hit hardest by a tornado and straight line winds in the 8/11 deracho storm are still working to clear downed and damaged trees.
Denise has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Dare to Care.
A(nother) Year of Reading 
We are usually wet, wet, but lately we’ve been dry, but our native irises love a low boggy spot. I hope you can rescue these. Your poem is such a love poem to flowers and gardening and remembering your mother.
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So poignant and beautiful, Mary Lee! I especially appreciate the double meaning of “low point” Thanks so much for sharing the poem and photo!!!
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You wrote the truth, Mary Lee, “Nothing/and no one/ lasts forever.” I hope moving the iris can help. It’s awful how you are besieged with the wet & we are so in need. My brother, in Missouri, had two big trees crash over last week from too much rain, luckily not on his home! I know your mother would understand, imagine she has seen many a change in her past, too!
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Mary Lee, climate disruption continues. What will we do to improve it? We need more progressives making decisions. The grieving over your mother’s irises is sad. You did try. That’s for sure, and I’m sure she understands. I so love those last three lines–so special. Peace.
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I was surprised by how this poem hit my heart. I want the iris’ to live. I know that the poem tells me that it’s OK…the poet will hold memory in other ways. But, oh. I want them to live. I’m sorry about all the rain. It’s weird right now. I wish you more balanced weather!
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Our crazy climate issues are so impactful to so many. I hope you are able to save some of the irises, but if not, they will live on in your memories.
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The power of solace offered by a plant is remarkable. I have a thriving hydrangea that my friend cloned from her plant that was cloned from her mother’s plant not long after she died. My friend has given quite a few away, and I love thinking of all those sparks of memory. I think of her mother, whom I had never met, whenever they are blooming. On the other hand, I’ve had a couple of plants that I brought from my father’s garden die off in recent years. I try to remember that they were bright spots when grief was closer and perhaps they did their work. I’m crossing my fingers that your mother’s irises are resistant and that your weather levels out a bit. My goodness, you have been through the wringer! Sadly, drought is becoming more entrenched in my neck of the woods.
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Wow, Mary Lee, I love these lines:
We must adaptwhen it no longer worksto persevere.
There’s a lot to unpack and ponder there.
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