I use to think my mom was the "Queen of the Iris". We had an old stone wall that sat atop the hill in our back yard. Every spring it sprung forth with Iris my mom had planted entirely along it's base. I would sit atop that wall and be mesmerized by the long row of different colored Iris. The graceful curvature of the petals. Those Iris petals with their gentle ripples always reminded me of waves rolling onto the beach at the shore.
To this day, when I see an Iris...I flashback to that stone wall. That stone wall and the home to which it belongs, now call a different family their owners. But mom is still the "Queen of the Iris", just in a different castle. And those rippling petals? They STILL remind me of waves.