Waving the flag

It may be a day before the real flag-waving, local parading, and fireworks launching is celebrated, but there is no holding back these blue flag irises (Iris versicolor).  Last year--after four increasingly exasperating years of watching only foliage--these clumps kicked up a single bloom.  This year, I had about a dozen beautiful blue violet blooms.

These plants are located at one end of the rain garden in an area that captures the downhill flow of water.  Although the clumps of tubers ride high above the level of pooled water, the entire spread remains damp 24/7.  In order to encourage the even and generous distribution of water along the length of the rain garden and to remove the encroachment of other wet-footed plants, I clean out along the borders of this bed about once a month. It's down and dirty work.

But these blooms, they make me feel like all of it--the watching, the waiting, the muck slopping, and the weed pulling--is worth it.  A little quiet flag waving.

Winning a reprieve

It's been four years since I started to make a raingarden out of a wet corner of the backyard.  The first plants stuck into that mucky mess were blue flag irises (Iris versicolor).  Winter, summer, spring, fall: there has always been plenty of green spiky iris foliage but never, ever, any flowers.  This spring, I was becoming so exasperated with the lack of bloom performance that I was wondering exactly how bad it would be if I replaced these blue flags with yellow iris (Iris pseudacorus).  Yes, my line of thinking/rationalization went, yellow iris is listed as an invasive by the USDA and prohibited as a noxious weed in Massachusetts, but they look so lovely blooming in May and June along the margin of our town pond.  So, if yellow irises are flourishing on town property, how bad could they really be?

Thankfully, I was saved from sliding down that slippery slope by a single blossom.  At last, the blue flag sent up a flower.  And it is beautiful.  So, no doubt, this iris wins a reprieve.

Okay, I was so surprised to see this blue flag that after I uttered, "What the what?!" and caught my breath, I had a little episode of photographic mania.  I just had to document the event . . . again . . . and over again . . .  Now, if I could only figure how to spur more blooms.  

Columbus Day weekend

Perhaps it's a good thing that pre-existing obligations and inclement weather conspired to keep me out of the garden for much of this long weekend.



Upheaval, heavy machinery, and yellow tape are everywhere. The bed slated for bulb-planting now holds displaced Siberian and blue flag irises and lambs' ears.



A few beds still muster a block of end of season color.



Elsewhere, a final head of Phlox panticulata struggles on . . .



. . . and ladybells Adenophora confusa sends up a half-hearted stalk.




Dead-heading, weeding, and pulling out overgrown plants were the main order of business this weekend. How many bearded irises were found under the sprawling foliage of catmint and daisies!

The weather is definitely turning towards autumn. Almost every open flower on this dahlia had a blitzed bee stumbling over its pollen-rich surface. Last call!

Irises, irises, irises

How fortunate that there is an iris for almost every corner of my yard.

In the drier areas and on the slopes, I grow bearded irises, like "Champagne Elegance," "Play with Fire," and several unnamed passalongs.







Just added this year from my sister-in-law's bounty comes a tall, graceful iris with lilac-striped falls, yellow beards, and white standards. This nameless variety catches the sunlight so well that it looks like it's glowing from within.



"Eric the Red," "King of Kings," and "Cambridge," Siberian irises, like to be in well-watered ground, particularly when they are setting flowers.







In the spring, I top-dress both bearded and Siberian species with peatmoss. After blooming, I cut down the stems to a few inches. The foliage remains until fall, when it is trimmed down to a few inches. I try not to over-fertilize but just can't help but scatter a little 5-10-5 around.

And the blue flag irises (Iris versicolor) keep their feet muddy in the soggy area of my former lawn. I haven't a clue how to care for them!

My fenway fearful

Fenways fearful, where flows the stream from mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks, underground flood.

The rains last week forced my hand. I know that this is not the way that the suburban gardener is supposed to install a water feature, but the boggy backyard cried out for attention. The 1' x 2' patch of mud, on occasion, now holds standing water.

What's the cause? Our weather has definitely been wetter this year: we have received 15.71" precipitation to date as opposed to 9.63" at the same time last year. Removing the water-loving plants in the adjacent hedge hasn't helped either.




So, with nothing to lose, I stuck eight plants of Iris versicolor into this mire. No water filtration system, no pump, no lining material, no nothing but nature. But isn't this how plants are supposed to grow?

Fairest fields enfolded by water, set, triumphant, sun and moon for a light to lighten the land-dwellers, and braided bright the breast of earth with limbs and leaves, made life for all of mortal beings that breathe and move.