Yesterday I reflected a lot on the Memorial Days of my past. When I was younger, my mother had a garden full of bearded irises, and every Memorial Day we'd cut a bunch and take them to the cemetery. We put some on my great-grandmother's grave, and a couple other ancestors buried in that cemetery, and then we'd go around and put them on random graves...especially if we found the grave of someone who had been in the military.
I liked putting them on children's graves. Even then I felt a sense of profound loss for those families and wanted those babies to be remembered.
Tomorrow we're closing on a house, and this fall I plan on planting iris bulbs everywhere. They're one of the few flowers I'm not allergic to, and I just think they're breathtaking.
Next Memorial Day I want to cut a bunch and take my kids to the cemetery. We have no relatives buried here in Colorado, but I plan on putting them on the graves of military servicemen and some children. Maybe the children's ones will have a small note from me.