The former owners here planted the specialty irises, about twenty feet by four feet of them. Ten years ago, they were a magnificent sight.The thick grasses wanted the field back. I've done what I could to dig some of the rhizomes up, divide them and replant them elsewhere.
It's like having a tiny gold mine not too far under the ground. The problem is finding spots to replant them. The front yard is the sunniest and most level, but has some really nasty invasive grasses that I've written about before. Also, the yard is close to the road and in the fallout zone of the road dust, not a pleasure to work in. I keep having to rush into the house when I hear big trucks coming.
Even irises that I transplanted and looked after now need to be moved again, the ingrates.
My grandma Belle had gorgeous iris beds in her yard. I guess I love irises because they remind me of her. Now I understand why she seemed to always be working in them.
Giving up on irises is not an option for me. Their beauty keeps me caring for them as best as I can.
Just looking at last year's pic of the silver white ones takes my breath away.
One day, I hope to read the glad news that some determined iris-breeder has perfected irises that know how to hold their ground against encroaching weeds. In addition, the irises will have learned how to be not so prone to crowed themselves out of bloom. I await the news with breathless anticipation.
In the meantime, this year, I plan to move some of them to the garden hillside, where the grasses are not so dominant. Unfortunately, the English Plantains are the invaders there. Sigh.
