Where Her Gift Grows Softly

My mother once stopped by on an ordinary afternoon and tucked a few extra purple iris bulbs into the soil beside my home — divisions from the ones that had overgrown her own garden. Since then, they’ve grown steady and strong, multiplying quietly year after year. I’ve dug many up to share with friends and colleagues, and still they return each spring, delicate and determined, their blooms lasting only a brief moment in the shifting rains and temperatures of the season.

This particular iris caught my eye just after a much‑needed rainstorm in a year marked by drought. It stood outside my window, luminous and fragile, knowing its time was short. Yet I also knew it would return next spring with renewed vigor, offering once again its striking beauty and the quiet hope it carries in its petals and blue‑green leaves.
The drawing focuses on atmosphere and presence — the way the flower feels rather than the way a camera might record it.