"When dawn spreads its paintbrush on the plain, spilling purple... ," Songs of the Pioneers song from TV show "Wagon Train." Dawn on the mythic Santa Fe Trail, New Mexico, looking toward Raton from Cimarron. -- Clarkphoto. A curmudgeon's old-fashioned newspaper column, cross-breeding metaphors and journalism and art, for readers in 150 countries.

Monday, April 22, 2013

When irises bloom in the dooryard, day by day

My favorite line of poetry, the one I consider the most powerful and haunting in American literature, is Whitman's opening elegy to Lincoln--
"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed... "
We have some special irises planted in our dooryard, and they didn't bloom last year, but I noticed buds a week ago, and over the past three days, have photographed the miracle of spring.
The reason they're special is that I dug them up from next to my Dad's grave in Fairlawn Cemetery in Comanche, Oklahoma, a few years ago, and brought them home. I wrote about them two years ago on this blog, but was worried last year, and they're late this year. 
They give me hope, and memories, especially as I age. Dad will have been dead 40 years this December.  The irises are still alive. The tree and the stump of the tree  that they grew around are now gone, though some of these irises still grow there. See that article and photos  at

clarkcoffee.blogspot.com/2011/04/when-iris-bloom-in-dooryard.html 

So anyway, here are the photographs of the iris blooming in the dooryard, and you can see time.
Today

Yesterday

Three days ago

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