Tonight I came home from work and noticed that the Iris by the mailbox had flowered. Note I said the Iris, not the irises. There’s supposed to be a half dozen or more, this year I got just one. Isn’t it pretty?

Now, the Iris is not my favorite flower. It’s beautiful when it blossoms, but then you have lots of tall green spikes and that’s annoying. My Grandma has a ton of them, and I like them in a group to stick in a tall vase, but that doesn’t mean that the Iris deserves what happened to it just an hour later:

Tonight, the wonderful NoMH came over to cut the grass for me because I am highly allergic and it needed to be cut. I love him dearly, he is my best friend’s husband (thus the nickname NoMH (pronounced gnome) for Not My Husband). Unfortunately, he got a bit too happy with the weed whacker and my Iris suffered the consequences. But I still love him, and the Iris will come back next year.