Yellow Iris in May

Noticing beauty, one bloom (and one breath) at a time.

I biked to what I still think is the most beautiful nature reserve in the whole country.
I went looking for chamomile.
But before I saw even one, there she was: the yellow iris.

She stood tall by the water’s edge.
Bright, golden, waving in the wind.
There were whole patches of them.

I reached for my phone to take a photo,
but the wind kept tossing her around.
Every time I tried to focus, she moved.
And still I wanted that bit of blue sky in the background.
So I knelt down in the grass and waited.
Just for a moment of stillness.
Click.

She’s not easy to photograph.
Not easy to catch.
But look at her — the yellow iris.
No lily, no calamus. Just herself.

Back at home, I wrote this in my notebook:

Field Note – May 22
Yellow iris – Iris pseudacorus
🌿 Not a true lily, but an iris (Iridaceae)
🌿 Grows along ditches, marshes, and in wet meadows
🌿 Blooms in May and June with large !!! yellow flowers
🌿 Stamens partly hidden under the three outer petals
🌿 Pollinated by bumblebees, hoverflies and beetles
🌿 Name pseudacorus means: “looks like calamus” — but it isn’t
🌿 Tolerates wet soil and temporary flooding
🌿 Spreads by seed and rhizome
🌿 Native to Europe, now also found in North America and other regions
🌿 No strong scent

Two weeks ago, we walked there together around sunset.
There were still a few in bloom.
The light was different then — softer.
The flowers looked less bright.

It struck me how the same little flower can seem so different,
depending on the time of day —
and maybe also on the posture of your heart.

Some days you notice beauty right away.
Other days, you have to slow down, kneel down, look twice.
But when you do, you find it was there all along.
Grace doesn’t always shout.
Sometimes it waits.