There's a stretch of irises in bloom in front of the house. They have spread from two small clumps. Some time ago I drove two friends to Concord in search of an abandoned garden they had once found and from which they had taken plants. I followed their directions though I didn't believe they would find the garden again, but somehow they spotted the obscured turn-off on to a dirt road. We bumped along and eventually found the garden. A tangle, overgrown, but thru the wild, matted growth we could see Siberian irises, fresh green spears but no bloom. It must have been early May. I had to stand on the spade to get the point into the root-cemented ground.
This is a particularly fierce strain of iris, an old strain. They spread by seed which pops from seed pods in late fall. I let them spread.
The Siberian invasion does not disturb me, but this weigela shrub, planted by the former owners, overwhelms me, heavily festooned, ongepotchket, faputzt. I'll look at it again today now that the heat spell has broken. Yesterday the temperature was in the nineties. Today in the cold I might welcome such hot lushness. You might think I was talking about people.
I like to believe that plants from an abandoned garden contain an additional life other than the rooted one we dig up and carry away -- perhaps a cellular memory of the gardener who first tended them.
ReplyDeleteThere are few things as lovely as Iris blue.
T. Clear: Have you written about these cellular memories? An intriguing idea!
ReplyDeleteIf you want anymore irises, come on over- I've got many that would be happy to be divided.
ReplyDeletei adore siberian irises...when i lived in massachusetts, i had a whole flock of pure white ones...like small doves.
ReplyDeletelovely; thank you, mim!
A most wonderful post with so many beautiful images. I love irises. My wife planted some in our garden. :-)
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
PS: Yes, the Tube in summer is still very HOT! :-)