Mom's birthday present? It may be a difficult thing for some people, but for me, it is an easy thing. Mom loved flowers, so every year I sent her flowers. Actually she had a bed of irises   in the backyard of her small, Indiana farm. They were beautiful. "Take some," she said, "Dig some up and plant them on the side of your own house." But in my yard they became lacking in energy. A year passed, then two, but not one flower appeared. I cut back all their green leaves. I was tired of seeing them so lonely. Finally, I dug the irises up and threw them away. About that time Mom died unexpectedly. My sister and I sold the farm. I never went back to see the irises. I just couldn't bear seeing another family living in our home--Mom's home. Autumn came, then winter. The following spring, as Mom's birthday approached, I struggled with the question of how to remember her. I stared out the window and saw a few stubborn irises in my side yard sprouting  , --tall, thin but flowerless. Because of seeing them, I decided to order flowers as I always did on Mom's birthday, and send them to my sister. I wished so badly I could still send flowers to Mom. But that was impossible. In the morning of Mom's birthday, I was in my car ready to work. Something in the yard caught my eye. The irises! One had bloomed with flowers, big, showy and purple, as lovely as they ever had been on Mom's farm. I smiled and turned my eyes upward. I could no longer send flowers to Mom. But somehow, she'd been able to send them to me. At first, the irises in the author's yard   _  .
all died quickly didn't bloom at all grew as well as on Mom's farm grew better than those on Mom's farm