HALCYON DAYS: IRISES FOR SOUTHERN GARDENS

I love this time of year in the garden when it is not quite spring, but winter is loosening its grip. Days lengthen, the sap rises, and the bluebirds return to build their nests. Not much is blooming yet: just the daffodils and the frost-proof cups of cream and pink that grace the hellebores. The trees have not leafed out. And yet, for a gardener, it's as exciting a time as the build-up to Christmas morning. So much is promised. Possible. Palpable.

Dreaming of the iris in bloom...

Some of the best markers of growth in this season as the equinox approaches are the iris. Spurred by weeks of heavy rainfall the green blades of Siberian and Japanese iris have begun thrusting their knife-points free of the dead foliage at their crowns. Vigorous stands of swamp-loving Louisiana iris never shed their green foliage, not even through the coldest part of the season, nor does a wildly vigorous stand of the native blue flag iris, I. virginica, which I planted in standing water at the low spot beside my garden shed. But now the growing stalks brighten and glow as if flames are burning inside them, with the virginica and the Socastee river iris selection, I. versicolor 'Swords of Murex,' sporting purple-stained blades at the base.

Iris virginica plants getting their green on.

Most of the beardless iris species I grow are water-lovers, including the exceedingly rare and beautiful Foxcroft Full Moon, a white I. pseudacorus with violet stitching on the falls. In addition to needing moisture, beardless iris must have acidic soil to perform well, with a pH no higher than 6.5, and Carolina clay is made to order. In this respect the beardless iris are the complete opposite of bearded iris (I. germanica) which require dry conditions and alkaline soil, preferring a pH of 7 or above.

Iris sibirica blades emerging in spring.

I grow a few cultivars of tall bearded (TB) iris in a plot inspired by British gardener Beth Chatto's gravel garden. The TBs are slower to show new growth than the beardless ladies, but in late March the blades will begin to thicken as flowerbuds swell in their protected sheaths. The TB bed is exposed to full sun all day (one aspect of their cultural requirements that they share with most beardless iris). 

Tall Bearded Iris 'Wench' in my garden.

It slopes slightly to encourage sharp drainage, and is amended with lime and mulched with gravel to keep the soil sweet and prevent the rhizomes from rotting. This is not an easy task in our humid climate, and it may be why I have lost so many of the pretty little dwarf varieties that never rise very far above the damp soil. I have sworn the dwarfs off but for the blushing beauty, 'Chanted,' which is still clinging to life.

Standard Dwarf Bearded Iris 'Chanted'

Not to worry. In some years, starting in early April and continuing through May, I get a splendid display of blooms from the few tall workhorse varieties I keep on: 'Lemon-Lime,' 'Afternoon Delight,' 'Gypsy Dancer,' and a glamorous iris passed along from a gardener at my former church, ironically named 'Wench.' (The iris, not the church lady.)  For the most part, however, the TBs resent sharing space with the other plants in that bed: the roses, peonies, and daylilies. As far as TBs are concerned, paradise is a dry, empty field occupied entirely by their own kind. I can't offer them the space and exclusivity they desire.

TBs 'Lemon Lime' finish their show in early May, as southern peonies and Siberian iris take over.

A chummier species of iris is I. tectorum, or roof iris. 'Alba' blooms in mid-April at the foot of my variegated Japanese maple, Acer palmatum 'Beni-schichihenge.' These clumping iris happily rub shoulders in the filtered light beneath the tree with wild columbines, bugleweed and a cherished, small-leaved Buxus microphylla started as a cutting from a boxwood in writer Elizabeth Lawrence's Charlotte garden.

Iris tectorum 'Alba' appreciates the shade of trees.

Here's the hallmark of an excellent garden plant: I've divided the patch of tectorum many times and it never complains.

Nor do my beardless iris pile on much agony. The consistently cold weather we experienced last winter had a positive effect on the Siberian iris cultivars I grow, as well as my southern peonies; both species of plants need a certain amount of cold dormancy to do well, and they got it. People unfamiliar with South Carolina's upstate region are always surprised when I tell them how cold our winters can be, especially here on our little mountain above the Spartanburg plain.

Alice in the snowy garden.

In the ten years we've lived in Traveler's Joy, we have never had a snow-free winter, and have occasionally endured single-digit freezes. (That doesn't mean we don't get hot summers… Lord help! Equatorial.)

Benefiting from the deep-freeze, a small plot of I. sibirica 'Sparkling Rose' that I'd planted and forgot about a few years back suddenly threw out a multitude of fat budstalks last spring. When the flowers bloomed in April, they were dazzling. 

I. sibirica 'Roaring Jelly.'

It was the same for I. sibirica 'Roaring Jelly,' and a clump of I. sibirica 'Ever Again,' a hybrid introduced by iris grower Currier McEwen. The latter grew so vigorously in its first year in my garden that by the second year I was able to take a piece of it to share with my daughter in her Raleigh plot. I bought this three-gallon pot of 'Ever Again' at the farmers' market in nearby Cowpens from a member of the Spartanburg Men's Garden Club for the remarkable price of $5. I told him it wasn't enough, but he argued back that it was the end of his day and he was ready to be done with the pots and go home. I've longed to return to the market and buy more plants now that I've seen these iris perform, but the farmers market never reopened after that spring. Cowpens mayor, are you listening?

I. sibirica 'Sparkling Rose'

The Siberians get their bloom going in late April or early May. Following them in the iris blooming cycle are the Louisiana irises. Modern hybrids of these swamp-lovers sport flowers in all the colors of the rainbow, but I take most pleasure in those with the wild Iris fulva as one of their parents. The warm terra-cotta tones of fulva aren't seen in other beardless iris, but they are glowingly apparent in the stand of I. louisiana 'Red Dazzler' which grows in my rain garden. 

LA iris blooming with loropetalum.

These dark red flowers are sensational blooming against a background of Loropetalum 'Red Diamond,' and dragonflies love them. Also, they remind me of a gardening friend who taught me a good deal about iris and who has since passed away. I think of Dawn and smile when the dazzlers bloom.

LA iris 'Red Dazzler after a rain.

Japanese iris, I. ensata, close out the iris season with a grand finale. They are tall and dramatic, with flowers spread like flashy handkerchiefs atop the stalks. I grow I. ensata 'Wilderness Warrior' in a spot where she is protected by Itea 'Henry's Garnet' and an old-fashioned pillar rose, 'Souvenir du Dr. Jamain'; otherwise my pair of rescue dogs would flatten the stalks and the beautiful mauve and white flowers along with them. My favorite ensata cultivar is 'Nikko,' a stunner in the sunny May garden with broad, marbled blooms of purple and white featuring bright yellow signals.

I. ensata 'Nikko' in my garden.

In addition to the showier types of Japanese iris, I grow a species-type ensata which may or may not be I. ensata 'Emotion.' I've moved it so many times, once across state lines and then several times within this garden, looking for the best site to show off its graceful, elongated falls of deep, marine blue. It seems to be happy now in its sunny bed beside the blueberry shrub, where Holly-Tone satisfies the needs of both fruit and flower, and where the irises amplify the color of the ripening fruit.

Orange cat with blue iris.

I've bought a couple of different cultivars from Walter Hoover, the Japanese iris specialist who owns Charles Street Garden in Saluda, NC. He and his wife are among the dozens of excellent nurserymen and women who bring their wares to Hendersonville's annual Garden Jubilee. I wouldn't miss the show for anything, except a book event, and one of those kept me from attending on Memorial Day weekend last year. 

I. ensata 'Carol Johnson'

I swore I'd not miss another year's jubilee, but then I discovered that the Swan Lake Iris Garden in Sumter, SC, which I've longed to visit for their iris festival held when the ensatas bloom, is being held on the same weekend. May, to a gardener, is an embarrassment of riches.

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Anyone who has read my fiction knows that I'm heavily influenced by Greek and Roman mythology. For that I credit my Duke-educated teacher of freshman high-school English. How that long-suffering man ever found his way to our confederacy of dunces in the trackless wilderness is a mystery, but I'm grateful he did. Mr. Rumsey started us on Camus, bless his heart, but gave up after two weeks, collecting all our unread copies of The Stranger and replacing them with his own mimeographed pages on the pantheon of gods and goddesses on Mt. Olympus. We ate up those bawdy tales of vanity, passion and vengeance like they were Junior Mints -- I even wrote a comic skit about Zeus and his jealous wife Hera that was performed by my bolder classmates.

Hera and Iris.

I remember being fond of the minor goddess, Iris. She, along with Hermes, were the gods' messengers, but while Hermes used his winged heels to fly between Heaven and Earth, Iris traveled only on rainbows. Anyone who has seen a field of bearded iris in bloom or watched dragonflies landing on a stand of purple Siberian iris flowering in a pond will appreciate how appropriate this symbol is.

In one of the few myths involving Iris, the messenger is enlisted by Hera to help a young queen named Alcyone, whom Hera pities. Alcyone and her husband, King Ceyx, shared a great love for one another and couldn't bear to be parted. Howevr, Ceyx decided he had to consult the oracle in Delphi about some knotty matter of state and so left his queen behind as he set off across the sea. Naturally, since this is a Greek story, it ends in tragedy: the king's ship is swamped in a storm and everyone drowns, Ceyx included. Meanwhile, Alcyone is home in their kingdom, praying and making sacrifices to Hera for her husband's safe return. This is why Hera orders up a dream for the clueless widow, as the goddess can't bear to witness Alcyone continuing to hope and pray that her beloved will come home. Iris dresses in her cloak of many colors and travels down the rainbow to the Vale of Sleep, instructing the god of slumber to craft a dream and send it to Alcyone, showing her how her husband died. 

Alcyone discovers her husband's drowned body.

The day after her dream, the queen goes to the shore and sees her husband's corpse washing in on the tide. She leaps into the sea, planning to die alongside him, but here the gods intervene (and the question is: why didn't they intervene earlier and save Ceyx??) They turn Ceyx and Alcyone into kingfisher birds and allow them to fly together over the waves. 

In Greece, the kingfisher female lays her eggs on the beach in winter, doing this only during the seven to ten day period when the winds are calm and the seas quiet, permitting her to nest atop the eggs. This calm, happy period in winter came to be called Halcyon Days, in honor of the devoted queen.

Pipit jonquillas.

For gardeners, this is our season of halcyon days, almost better, in its way, than the full-blown flummery of May. All our devotion through the cold, dark days is being rewarded with color and growth. With beauty. All that seemed dead is coming back to life.

Can one hope for anything better than that?

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The two-day Garden Jubilee is held in downtown Hendersonville, North Carolina, on Saturday, May 25 & Sunday, May 26, 2019 from 9am-5pm both days of Memorial Day weekend.

https://www.visithendersonvillenc.org/garden-jubilee

Swan Lake Iris Festival in Sumter, South Carolina, is held annually on Memorial Day Weekend. In 2019 hours are:  Hours: Thursday, May 23, 6 - 9pm; Friday & Saturday, May 24-25, 10am - 6pm; Sunday, May 26, 10am - 5pm.

https://www.sumtersc.gov/irisfestival

The American Iris Society (AIS) sponsors events all around the country and its website provides a wealth of information about iris species and cultivation.

https://www.irises.org/