#orelio iris

I was tagged by the always lovely @slewfootwitch to participate in this month's Where I Live (by @dvoeverie-stitches ). I remember really enjoying doing one of these back in February, so I may have to start taking part monthly. They're quite fun, and such a great way to capsule and celebrate each month. (I hope y'all like irises, because they're everywhere this month lol.)

[LEFT: A few blossoms on my lilac (syringa vulgaris) bushes. // RIGHT: Some grass lily/star-of-bethlehem (ornithogalum umbellatum) I spotted on Jim's Rest.]

April sounds like the sweet, soothing, and cheerful singing of birds all day, and frog songs all night; like the long-awaited and much-welcome buzz of bees in the garden, the rustle of the first of the season's skinks as they move through the hedgerows, and like the lover's quarrels of the mated pair of mourning doves nesting in one of my maple trees. It sounds like the recounting of Shemot (Exodus), like blessings in Yiddish, prayers in Hebrew, and songs in both, husky voices weaving through the dark of night. It sounds like the faint chiming of coin charm amulets bumping into one another, hanging from a necklace; like quiet conversations in the aisles of the second-hand bookstore, 1960s Vietnamese funk playing endlessly from the speakers of my favorite market, and like a guitar being tuned on the back porch, it's twang backed by the choir of ice clinking in a glass of tea.

[My now just two-year-old Chinese snowball (viburnum macrocephalum) bush in bloom.]

April tastes like lightly salted matzoh, blessed pomegranate juice, charoset, and Jewish penicillin (matzoh balls and chicken — or, in my case, mushrooms flavored in a vegan "chicken" bouillon — soup); and like freshly brewed ginseng and ginger tea. It tastes like a Pesach filled with matzoh everything — matzoh pizza, matzoh sandwiches, matzoh topped crumble. Then, once Pesach has come to its end, April tastes like grilled corn on the cob and vegan jambalaya packed with flavor and spice; like ballpark pretzels, lemonade freshly squeezed whilst laughing and gossiping in Yidlish (Yiddish + English) in the kitchen, and like homemade chocolate cake and banana sugar cookies (the secret ingredient is love + fighting with your cousins, but mostly love).

[Golden hour in the garden. LEFT: One of my maple trees. // RIGHT: A few of my sweet irises.]

April feels like the sun on my skin as I sit and bask read in the garden, and like the soft, cool bed of clovers I like to lounge in. It feels like ink on my fingers as I craft amulets and talismans, and as I scribble away at translations; and like the occasional prick of the needle as I settle in on this season's hand-sewn projects. It feels like cool metal strings against my fingertips as I pick, pluck, and strum the days away; and like windy days, often gusty enough to knock my cap off whilst I'm working, hands in the earth and eyes on the ground, on Jim's Rest.

[My sweet irises (iris pallida). I currently have more than 130 active iris blooms in the garden.]

April looks like the freshly smudged ink of handwritten additions and alterations in the margins of a Haggadah. It looks like butterflies and bees flitting endlessly around my iris flowers, which seem to never end and give Jim's Rest the appearance of being a micro iris farm. It looks like chalk drawings on the pavement, and chalk drawn amulets on haint blue doors; like freshly crafted iron dust and shavings, bundles and trays of plant allies drying all around the house, and like the curling tendrils of incense smoke. April looks like midday's bright blue canvas of sky, spotted with clouds and the stories they tell or the news they bring, and like brilliant sunsets that paint the sky in orange, fuchsia, and lilac hues. It looks like seas of spring flowers and all the life and color they bring with them.

[LEFT: Orelio iris. // CENTER: Sweet irises near one of the double knockout rosebushes. // RIGHT: Sweet iris.]

April smells like irises, irises everywhere — lightly sweet, powdery, and pleasantly earthy. It smells like yard work and the neighbor's freshly mown grass; and like mandarins with breakfast every morning. It smells like coconut-scented sunscreen, passionfruit and hibiscus shampoo, and jojoba body oil. It smells like memaw's coffee brewing in the kitchen, and like good old home-cookin'. April smells like home.