THE TROUBLE WITH IRIS
There is little that can compare with a well-grown stand of tall, bearded iris in full bloom. Their great big, multi-colored heads stand proudly atop substantial stalks, which are anchored by thick sword-shaped leaves. If the catalogs and websites that I use are any indication, there are at least a million named varieties and a staggering number of them are beautiful. Now that many reblooming iris have found their way into the marketplace, iris lovers can enjoy their favorite bearded beauties twice a year.
They can enjoy them, that is, if it doesn’t rain. In my neighborhood spring so far has been an endless turgid symphony of wind and rain. The weather has also been relatively cool, postponing the blooming season for many flowering plants and lengthening the tree pollen season to torment allergy sufferers. Despite the gloomy weather, the iris in my back garden–tall bearded varieties all–have done their best to raise their stalks towards the sporadic sunshine and put out flower buds. When we had a few reasonably warm, sunny days, those buds enlarged and prepared to open. I hoped for the best.
Now a few have burst into bloom and the rain and wind have returned. There is nothing sadder than a drowned bearded iris, except maybe a brown, sodden cabbage rose or a magnolia blossom violated by an unexpected frost. Those gorgeous iris standards and falls attract water like sponges until the flowerheads are so heavy that the stalks can no longer support them. The stalks flop over and sometimes break off, and the pathetic grimy flowers languish in the puddles. When this happens in my garden I sometimes rescue the less damaged stalks and bring them into the house. I stake the plants that haven’t had time to fall over yet and pray for sunny days.
Most of my iris were a gift from a friend who was dividing her mother’s plants. My favorites are such a dark shade of purple that they look black from a distance. I have some pale blue ones that are lovely, except when flopped over. I also acquired a variety with purple standards and pale blue falls. They are gorgeous and the only bearded variety that reside in my front garden. My least favorite are butterscotch-colored with orange beards. The butterscotch iris are apparently the ducks of the iris world. They never flop over and seem impervious to rain. The dark purple ones look big and strong, but they bend in the breezes and flop when the going gets tough. I have been thinking of buying some of the reblooming types, but I am afraid that to do so would invite a monsoon in August or September. My neighbors would not thank me.
Despite the perils of wind and rain, iris have been cultivated since ancient times and are freighted with all kinds of historical associations. The fleur de lys, a stylized iris design, was long associated with the French monarchy. All of that changed in 1789 when the French Revolution obliterated the monarchy and everything associated with it. Napoleon’s emblematic bees would not deign to pollinate anything as corrupt as a monarchist fleur de lys.
Fortunately, we in the United States kept our heads, literally and figuratively, and kept our bearded iris, which came to this country with the first European settlers. Anyone who has ever been to New Orleans knows that the fleur de lys is a historic symbol of that city. The Jefferson Center for Historic Plants, headquartered at Tufton Farms in Virginia, maintains a collection of historic iris from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
I persist in growing iris because they are exquisite when they are in bloom. Some of my iris are fragrant and remind me of an old variety that grew in my father’s backyard. The flowers were the palest blue and the fragrance was sweet and intense. My father always said that if you couldn’t smell one of those iris from a short distance away, your allergies were completely out of control.
When spring departs this year, I really have to divide my iris, a chore that has gone neglected for too long. I can already see that the number of blooms will be down from last year because of my dereliction of this duty. Fortunately dividing iris is not hard because the plump rhizomes rest just below the soil.
If I had a worst enemy I would definitely give him or her all the butterscotch iris. I would tell my enemy in all candor that they are extremely reliable, multiply rapidly and stay upright through the worst weather. Who knows, maybe my worst enemy would be a great fan of butterscotch-colored, orange-bearded iris and the gift would soften his or her feelings towards me.
The best iris are usually those given to you by friends. However, for a great selection of interesting varieties try Schreiner’s Iris Gardens, 3625 Quinaby Road N.E.,
Salem OR 97303, (800) 525-2367, or www.schreinersgardens.com. The cata