The perennial irises are blooming in our backyard. This is always a sign that warm weather has finally arrived. One of my flower books says that irises inspired the shape of the fleur-de-lis, the symbol of France (Lehner and Lehner, Folklore and Symbolism of Flowers, Plants, and Trees, 2003). I like the fleur-de-lis; it reminds me of my trips to New Orleans. For the first time, I see the fleur as an iris.

Harlequin Blue Flag Iris, Iris versicolor, Big Bog State Recreation Area, MN. Photo by Danielle, July 2015.
Late spring is my favorite time in our backyard. We have two blossoming apple trees, patches of shade and sun, and plenty of space for our hound to play fetch and football. To have my own pink tree is a dream come true. I’ve repositioned my lawn chair to face the mammoth Balsam fir tree that towers over our front lawn. It’s an incredible tree–maybe the tallest in all of the neighborhood. Our large windows allow us to watch the birds and the squirrels use the tree as a funhouse. I see so many shades of green from my spot in the lawn chair. The needles on the fir tree are a different shade of green than the leaves of the corner Elm tree. To me, the needles look plump and seafoam, like a greenish turquoise paint I might brush across one of my craft projects.

Balsam fir needles, Abies balsamea, Polk County, MN. Photo by Danielle, June 2025.
Last weekend, we drove around for a while in Red Lake County. I noticed some purple flowers in the ditch near Old Crossing Treaty Park. The park is a lovely place near the Red Lake River and marks the site of a treaty brokered between US Government officials and members of the Red Lake Band of Chippewa in 1863. One winter, nearly ten years ago, we photographed a fisher near the park. We’d never seen anything like it and thought it might be a wolverine.
But now we see flowers. I crouch down on the side of the gravel road. The six petals are pale purple, darker toward the center, a kind of ombre effect. Streaks like purple veins run through each petal. I notice something unusual. At the tip of each petal, I see a wispy thin offshoot, like a lavender eyelash. What a magical little flower.

Needle-pointed Blue-eyed grass, Sisyrinchium mucronatum, Red Lake County, MN. Photo by Danielle, June 2025.
I learn its name: Needle-pointed Blue-eyed grass, Sisyrinchium mucronatum, a member of the iris family. Its name explains the eyelashes. They do look like needles. From the tip of one needle to the tip of its opposite, the flower measures less than one inch. The stems are tall and thin. Looking around, they’re abundant, swaying about in the wind. I take perhaps thirty pictures. But only the photo above seems to authentically capture the geometry and the colors.
I’ve made other purple discoveries. At Lake Maria State Park near Monticello, I’m tiptoeing through the forest when I see something new at ground level. I’m confident it’s an orchid. The lower part of the flower looks like a milky white arrowhead, ethereal, joined to a delicate purple dome. The leaves are a lush, perfect green, shaped like a dog’s tongue.

Showy Orchis (or Orchid), Galearis spectabilis, Lake Maria State Park, MN. Photo by Danielle, May 2025.
It’s the only Showy Orchis, Galearis spectabilis, I see at the park. I easily could have missed it, distracted by Wild Geraniums, Geranium maculatum.

Wild Geranium, Geranium maculatum, Lake Maria State Park, MN. Photo by Danielle, May 2025.
Capturing flowers in pictures feels like building some kind of collection. I think of my treasured creative supplies–the box of hundreds of colored pencils, the drawer upstairs where I keep my ink pens and markers. Just pulling a colored pencil from the box usually gets my brain going. What pencil matches Wild Geranium?
I pull out a shade of pink with a dull point. I write my name with the pencil, comparing it to the geranium. A hue between “pink” and “mauvelous.” I reach for my sharpener, twisting the pencil, needling the tip. The pigment point narrows, saturated and fine, like an eyelash coated with bold mascara.
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