I’ve taken a number of iris photos in the garden, but now, several peonies are open. This is for Cee Neuner’s Flower of the Day Challenge.
According to Cee’s tips, I think I’ve missed a more ideal flower photo time by about 20 minutes. Perhaps, I’ll post a sequel later or a comparison. I’ve noticed Monet painted the same scenes at different times of day and in different lighting conditions.
Cee has some lovely peony photos in a pretty pink.
I want to take you on a virtual walk with me, inspired by Restless Jo’s Monday Walk, with a little haibun (Japanese poetic prose,) haiku, park photography and a little down-to-earth information about our experience.
On Saturday, I walked with a new doggy client, Luce (pronounced Loochay,) a handsome dog, a Brittany spaniel and dachshund mix. We walked through Verona Park in Verona, New Jersey, and as it was a nice day, the park was busy with people doing everything possible to do in the park: fishing, cycling, walking dogs, playing tennis, paddleboating and using the playground and the exercise stations around the walking path.
We traipse along the paved path, Luce moving ahead of me, waving his tail like a feathery fan. We pull to the water’s edge where the sun glints against the smooth surface. The blurred reflection of the trees in the water resembles an impressionistic painting. A central fountain shoots its spray, creating a relaxing soundtrack, while distant swanboats glide through the pond.
Other swans dock at the shore, awaiting passengers, their beaks face to face, creating a heart in the negative space between them.
Intense pink dianthus greet us, lifting their frill-framed faces to the sun.
The shadows of the trees create lacy patterns on the wide stone path bordering the lake while a paddleboat floats under the arch of a stone bridge.
A cluster of irises grow at the water’s edge, their yellow teardrop petals drooping gracefully.
A weeping willow’s tendril-like branches sweep the water’s surface. They hang like a fairy maiden’s hair prepared for a wash. Its branches majestically arch and curl above the reflective water.
Luce, though placid, is drawn to the sight and smell of two ducks in the water.
A green-headed mallard
and his mate float together,
on a man-made raft.
© 2021 Susan Joy Clark
------------------------------------------------------------ Luce and I had some refreshment at the Snack Shack at the boathouse after our walk. I had forgotten to bring water or a dog bowl, and as I was too distracted to notice the signs forbidding dogs on the dock, I carried Luce over to the Snack Shack order window. I bought a drink for myself and a bottled water and asked if they could give me a bowl for the dog. The kind employee at the window alerted me to the "no dogs" rule but provided a bowl for me. I thought they might have a disposable one, but he gave me a melamine plastic one. We sat at a nearby lakeside bench to refresh ourselves, but I didn't break the rules again in order to return the bowl, so I hope that they were able to retrieve it from where I left it. I appreciate the kindness of that employee.
Today, I took a walk at the Presby Memorial Iris Gardens. First, I made a silly little mistake which turned out to be what Bob Ross would deem a “happy little accident.” The garden is situated between two parallel streets in Montclair, New Jersey, Upper Mountain Avenue and Highland Avenue. I wanted to park my car on the top side of the garden, on Highland Avenue, and walk down. Instead, I made a turn too soon, onto Edgecliff Road which turns into Old Quarry Road. I drove down to where there was a little gravel parking lot on the side of the road and thought that might be related to the gardens.
Right by the parking lot was a sign for the Lenape Trail, a 34 mile hiking trail that connects many parks and winds all around Essex County in New Jersey. I like walking in the woods, and I have walked other sections of the Lenape Trail, so I thought I would take the trail for a bit, assuming it would intersect with the streets where the garden is situated. I was wrong.
I talked to a couple of other hikers on the trail who informed me otherwise. I still explored a little bit further, and though the hikers suggested a way I could go to reach my destination eventually, I decided to walk back to my car and drive to where I had intended to park initially. It turns out I had entered Mills Reservation which I just blogged about, but in a different entrance from where I had ever approached it before. It gives me ideas for future walks and exploring a different area.
This is still the beginning of the season, so the gardens were not as full of blooms as they will be a little later. According the garden website, they have 10,000 irises of 1,500 varieties that will produce 100,000 blooms over the course of the season.
The garden is so vast that the blooms seemed sparse, but I still found plenty of pretty flowers to photograph.
Below is one of them. Introducing … Empress Ann.
And Lady Emma …
The names of these irises are so interesting. As a lover of words, I’ve always felt so. So, I took note of them. I think that should be my new vocation — naming flower varieties.
Now, this little frilly guy has a really funny name.
This one is Footnote. I really love its shimmery purple bottom and its white ruffly top.
These next ones are my favorites from this time … Santa’s helper. I’m not sure why they are Santa’s helpers. They are not red or green.
And this next delicate beauty must belong in the North Pole with Santa’s helpers. It’s called Baby Snowflake.
I’m not sure how these irises would feel about decorating a church altar. The name of this variety is Pagan Butterfly. They do look delicate and exotic, so, perhaps, that is the thought behind the name.
Starwoman iris — I love this intense purple and ruffly flounces.
Autumn Elf irises. These must belong in a fairy garden.
And my second favorite from this trip … Fantastic Blue.
Which of these are your favorites?
If you are not tired yet of irises, you should visit Cee Neuner’s page where she took some beautiful photos from Shreiner’s Iris Gardens in Salem, Oregon.
Some new varieties of iris opened up in the garden today. This is in answer to Cee’s Flower of the Day Challenge and Jude’s Life in Colour purple challenge. I’m pretty sure Jude will find these purple enough?
I had a struggle with my phone camera in the bright sunlight once more. The screen blacks out so much that I could barely see what I was framing at times or I would give it a little too much zoom and not know it until after I snapped the photo and viewed it inside. But a little persistence paid off.
I think this is almost a maroon, but it’s somewhere on the spectrum.
How many challenges can I meet with one post? Here’s another, a haiku for Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge #357.
while his neighbor curls
up in the sun, he stretches
long, unfurls, revives
© 2021 Susan Joy Clark
The challenge here was to write a haiku using synonyms of “high” and “refresh.”
Both irises really do have a curled up yellow neighbor which I would have photographed if he was not in such a state. Perhaps, I will have another photo opportunity.
Earlier, I wrote a tanka inspired by my irises. I wondered if that was too many poems on a single theme. Then again, Van Gogh painted irises at least four different times. Here is one of my favorites.
Today, after we’ve had some rain, I took a walk in Mills Reservation in Cedar Grove, New Jersey, inspired by Restless Jo’s Monday Walk. I am just discovering the Japanese haibun form of poetic prose, and it seems to fit perfectly with hiking explorations, my desire to exercise and blog. I used to go on solo hikes with a book of poetry in my backpack, and this time, I went with a notebook, pen and phone camera. (This is not the haibun, just a more straightforward introduction.) 🙂
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The wet earth squelches beneath my feet as I walk. Birds greet each other with song, twitters and squawks as I walk beneath the trees, filtering sunlight. Tall, slender trees tower above me, the sun creating interesting patterns of chiaroscuro among their leaves. For a few moments, I sit, pen in hand, on a damp stone near the stream. The active water gurgles as it flows, and the air smells sweet and earthy.
I rise and continue along the path. The hollow-sounding tattoo of a woodpecker echoes through the forest. Nervous blackbirds scatter and take flight.
The ground is so wet in places that my gait is strange, as I stretch my foot across to a flat rock or a drier spot. When I reach a place where water runs across the path like a stream, I hop across on stones.
Fallen trees abound, the shapes of their branches weaving a tangled design.
Some are overgrown with moss or lichen or climbing plants. Even before I approach a fallen pine, I detect its aroma in the air.
Trees see their reflection in the still water, while, across the path, water trickles and falls over branches and stones, a waterfall in miniature.
Geese communicate,
staccato sonorous blats
piercing the air.
© 2021 Susan Joy Clark
