We've been away visiting my 91-and-a-half-year-old aunt in Norfolk, as we do every year, each time wondering if it'll be the last... but so far it never has been. When the children were small, we went every two years. I've told before the rather strange story of why she lives in this beautiful house (basically, she and three friends retired there. Now only she and the much younger husband of her friend remain, in separate flats).
We went to our favourite places, though have never been to Norfolk in June before and so have never seen certain flowers blooming there. This was the year of the iris.
I love irises. We had some in my childhood garden at home.
They were rather like this purple one. Irises have an interesting smell - not exactly a lovely scent, but pleasant and, to me, redolent of my childhood.
I love the way...
... they now come in a variety of colours.
These are flag irises, growing wild(ish) by the side of the lake at Felbrigg.
And these are in my aunt's wonderful, enormous garden. When she retired, at 58, she did the garden all by herself. Now she has a gardener two mornings a week and her friend, the much younger chap, does the heavy work. My aunt still gardens most days, but isn't as able as she was and there are quite a lot of weeds. Still, you don't really notice them if you look at the flowers. I did do some weeding.
Bye bye, Auntie E, Norfolk, garden. See you again next year, I hope.
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