“Do one small thing to make today better than yesterday.” ~ Unknown
Before mom’s baptism I was telling Darrell Conley’s sister-in-laws about my iris. One SIL, Rebecca Frye, found the story fascinating and said I should post about them. I got my purple iris as a few rhizomes back in 1995/96 when I was working for landscaper, Joe Calhoun, over the summer. We worked sometimes 10 hours a day all summer long, and then Joe kept working after we all went home. He had some very high-end clients (think Rick Pitino), and he would often service the smaller jobs alone, after the crew had gone home. We met at his house for work every morning, and one particular morning, he offered a small bag of iris rhizomes that he’d thinned from a patch at a horse farm the night before. At that time they were estimated to be 100-110 years old. That makes the iris in my yard to be 120-130 years old now. They are the most hearty plants I’ve ever seen. They’ve been moved and thinned more times than I can remember, and absolutely nothing kills them. They just get stronger. Not all things that age age badly.
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