So, I decided to mess around with these iris berries. Heard they could be a bit of a pain, but you know, sometimes you just get an itch to try something new, right? It’s not like I’m some master gardener, far from it. Just thought it’d be an interesting little project to keep me busy.
First thing, I had to get my hands on some. Didn’t go to any fancy store or order online. My neighbor, old Mrs. Gable, she’s got a patch of them that somehow thrives despite her mostly ignoring them. She snipped off a few woody stems for me. She said, “Good luck, son. These have a mind of their own.” I just chuckled, but turns out, she wasn’t kidding.
Brought them inside, trimmed them up a bit, and stuck them in a jar of water on the windowsill. Changed the water every day, like you’re supposed to. Read a few things online – some folks say dip ’em in rooting hormone, some say slice the ends just so. I just went with plain water and crossed my fingers. For the first week or two, absolutely nothing. Just sticks in a jar. It was starting to feel a bit foolish, staring at them, expecting miracles.
That whole waiting game, it actually got me thinking. Reminded me of this one time, years ago, I was working on a community project. We were trying to get a new playground built in the local park. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Get some funding, order the equipment, get it installed. Oh boy, was I wrong.
The Playground Saga
It turned into this massive thing. First, there was the committee. Everyone had an idea. One group wanted all-natural wood, another wanted bright, colorful plastic. Then came the fundraising – bake sales, car washes, grant applications that took weeks to write. We hit roadblock after roadblock. Sometimes it was permits, other times it was just folks disagreeing on the smallest details, like the color of the darn slide.
I remember spending hours in these stuffy town hall meetings, listening to arguments. It felt like those iris berry cuttings, just sitting there, stubbornly refusing to do what you wanted them to. We pushed, we cajoled, we compromised. It took nearly two years. Two years for a playground!
But then, one day, it was done. The kids were all over it, laughing and screaming. And you know what? All that frustration, it kind of faded. Seeing those kids, it made all the slow, painful progress worth it. You learn a lot about patience, and about how some things just need their own time to come together, no matter how much you try to rush them. People are like that too, I guess.
Anyway, back to these iris berries. After that playground experience, I sort of developed a different kind of patience. So, with these cuttings, after the initial fuss, I mostly just left them be. Still changed the water, but I stopped expecting them to perform on my schedule.
And wouldn’t you know it? About a month in, I saw these tiny, white nubs appearing at the bottom of a couple of stems. Roots! Not all of them made it, a few just rotted. But two of them, two stubborn little sticks, decided to give life a shot. It wasn’t a big success, not by a long shot, but it was something.
I planted those two rooted cuttings in small pots a few days ago. They’re still just looking like sticks, but now they’re sticks with a purpose, I suppose. It’s a small thing, these iris berries. But the whole process, it’s just another reminder, really. You put in the effort, you try your best, and then you gotta step back and let things unfold. Some things you can’t force. You just guide them a bit and hope for the best. That’s the practice, I reckon.
