- July 11th, 2008
- Filed under Horticulture
…Perennial Treasures from the Gardens of the Indianapolis Museum of Art.
Picture this. Ancient Egypt. Cleopatra’s palace gardens.
“Mark Antony, did you tell the slaves to weed the iris bed?”
“No dear. I thought you were doing that with the gardener.”
“Really Mark Antony, you do amaze me. Do you not remember I had the gardener executed last month for using up all of my eye liner? If you didn’t tell the slaves to weed then what happened to my special iris?”
“What do you mean Cleopatra?”
“I mean my Siberian irises are gone.”
“Which ones were they?”
“You know fully well which ones they were. My Iris sibirica ‘Caesar’s Brother’. Your petty jealous heart just couldn’t bear I would be taking them with me when I die.”
“Alright Cleopatra! Alright. It’s true. I ripped them from the ground. Just like I have tried to rip that Caesar from your heart.”
“Nice try Mark Antony. But like my love for Caesar, the iris cannot be killed by a mere human. Both will be with me in the great beyond.”
