Consider-the-Lilies Web Gallery
Called the "little sister of the stately blue flag," by one naturalist, this delicate flower is not blue-eyed; it is yellow-eyed—although the blue of the petals is all that the naked eye can resolve at a distance—and, even more, it is not a grass!
It is in fact a member of the Iris family, along with gladiolus and crocuses. One commentator suggested that the species name "be changed immediately to 'Yellow-eyed Iris,'" but then decided against this since she was at a loss as to "what to do about Sisyrinchium albidum, a variety of Blue-eyed Grass that has WHITE flowers!" So there we are!
But misnamed or not, this little iris is a joy to behold, as below, it seemingly appeared from nowhere as it fought its way up through the tall grass growing along a fence line on my property.
Mary Hunter Austin put
it this way:
BLUE-EYED
grass in the meadow
And yarrow-blooms on the hill,
Cattails that rustle and whisper,
And winds that are never still;
Blue-eyed grass in the meadow,
A linnet's nest near by,
Blackbirds caroling clearly
Somewhere between earth and sky;
Blue-eyed grass in the meadow,
And the laden bee's low hum,
Milkweeds all by the roadside,
To tell us summer is come.
Most of the blue-eyed grasses found east of the Mississippi look very much alike, except as noted above, and are categorized by small variations in the shape of the flower or foliage. Fortunately for the curious amateur like me, this variety is easily identified because it is distinguished by sharp extensions on the petals, plus it has relatively narrow leaves—botanical suffix: angusti = drawn together + folium = leaf, thus the alternate name of "narrow-leaved blue-eyed grass." All the blue-eyed grasses are native to North America.
Blue-eyed grass seeds, like other iris, are produced in pods.
Unlike most lilies in the Gallery, Sisyrinchium angustifolium blossoms are short-lived. (Other ephemeral bloomers are Chicory , Scarlet Pimpernel , Asiatic Dayflower , and Virginia Spiderwort.)
One 19th century nature-lover said this about these beauties: "The dainty flower, growing in dense tufts, makes up in numbers what it lacks in size and lasting power, flecking our meadows with purplish ultramarine blue on a sunny June morning. [Although] later in the day, apparently there are no blossoms ... for all are tightly closed, never to bloom again ... [But] new buds will unfold to tinge the field on the morrow."
I'm glad!
Go to the Main Directory to consider more lilies of the field.