The irises are gone, and just in time to console me come the evening primroses. Soon my garden will be a burst of yellow, brightening the yard at the little house in the big woods. The primroses always bloom in time for the Fourth of July, a special treat for the celebration of our country’s birthday.

This has been quite the month, quite the year, for irises. They have bloomed with a profusion that gladdens the heart of this iris lover. But now the gardens are down to the last two blossoms. These lovelies will come again next year, I know, but although I cherish all the flowers in my garden, irises are my special darlings, and it always makes me sad to see them go. That is the way it is with flowers, of course, and perhaps that’s why we love these ephemeral beauties so much. They are both permanent and not permanent, coming up year after year—if we are lucky—and only lasting for a short time.

Much spiritual practice, however unintentional, can come from tending a flower garden.

Yesterday, the weather forecast for the afternoon was cloudy in the morning and rainy in the afternoon. However, now that Clif is retired, we have a lot of flexibility in our schedule.

Therefore, “Let’s go biking in the morning before it rains,” I said.

“Good idea,” Clif replied.

We went late morning, and as we were gathering our gear—helmets, gloves, water bottles, we both noted how gray the sky was.

“Doesn’t look like a very good day for pictures,” I observed.

“No, it doesn’t, ” Clif agreed.

“Still, I’m going to bring the camera because you never know.”

Also, our wee wonder of a camera fits nicely in my bike’s front bag, so carrying it is no problem.

As we rode, the sky became even more overcast, but as we passed my friend’s house and gardens, I noticed her peonies were glowing in the dark green foliage.

“On the way back, I want to take pictures,” I called to Clif.

“Right!”

We rode on, and I am happy to report we pushed ourselves to go to the end of Memorial Drive, which meant pedaling up a fairly large hill. Yesterday was the first time this season that we did this, and although it was hard work, we both made it without any problems.

A few years ago, when I was in really good shape and we had a choice of going up a big hill or turning around and heading back, I used to say to Clif, “Let’s go up that hill for the fun of it and then turn around.”

I hope I am saying this again by the end of the summer.

On the way back, which was glorious downhill much of the way, we stopped at my friend’s house to take pictures of her peonies. I wasn’t optimistic, but this is what I got, which reinforced the notion of always, always bring your camera.

My friend, of course, will be getting a card made from this picture. I’ll also make a card to bring to our library, where I have a little stand with my cards, and I donate the profits of the card sales to the library.

When we got home, we had no sooner put away our bikes then it started to rain. We were pretty pleased with ourselves and our good timing.

Best of all, later in the day, there was an opportunity for another picture, this time on my very own front deck.

Another lesson: Always be ready with the camera, even at home.