Upcycling, Progress, and Discovery

Having completed the first two phases of my experimental iris gardens, I was left only* with the early-bloomers section of planters to prepare. Yes, I was feeling the pressure of having already planted the midseason and late-bloomers, while the early bloomers lingered in a box, awaiting the easy-but-prep-heavy step of painting the tires they were to be planted in. (*“only” here indicates iris that I ordered or purchased specifically for this project.)

“What could be so hard about painting some tires?” you ask? Certainly not the painting itself. Tire, roller, paint, right? Well, yes and no. First, research the proper steps for painting tires, so that in three months, or a year, the tires are still painted. Then, go to the paint store, choose a color, buy the paint in the correct quantity (more on that later), bring it home, and prepare to paint. I chose a light, slightly beige color that I thought would be least likely to draw your eye away from the gorgeous blooms... Turns out that color is called “Rice Cracker” and is quite similar to the color known as “bisque” to anyone who has been sink shopping in the last twenty years.

So, home I schlepped with my five gallons of Rice Cracker paint. To keep you from enjoying the many stages of this endeavor in real time, I’ll list them as steps.

1. wash tires, let them dry
2. create area to paint tires where paint slop (unavoidable) can be contained
3. find appropriate drop-cloth like materials (turns out to be a large cardboard box, in this case)
4.  move tires, paint, roller handle, and high-nap roller to appropriate area (out of sun, out of wind)
5. open cardboard box with sneaking premonition that a brown recluse spider will be inside
6. find actual brown recluse spider inside.
7. grab camera; snap photo:

8. leave area for a while, as willies abate
9. return with dampened roller, pry lid off paint can
10. re-mix paint
11. lay out tires on opened, flat cardboard
12. paint!

There’s a long exposition on getting paint into the grooves of the tires, but not creating too many runs, and then where to put them to dry so they don’t stick to the surface and/or get dirty. I will skip that part, as you can imagine me finding the perfect, elegant solution and employing it with panache and grace. Ahem.

Presto, two hours later, I have ten tires just about dry enough to move to the location where they are destined to house my patient but kind of wilty-looking early-bloomers. That leaves me time to prep the area!

Roll out the weed-block cloth, put the pallet with the kiddie pool in what I’m guessing to be the center of the area, fill the kiddie pool with the luscious, imported planting soil I bragged about in the last blog, and suddenly, it’s time to see if those tires are dry enough to move!

OK, you may have guessed there’s a bit more to it than that. I skipped the part where I cleared the ground of weeds beforehand, mounted the kiddie pool to the pallet and put in drainage holes, roughed out the area the tires would occupy before grabbing the scissors to cut the final dimensions of the weed cloth, etc. But I’m trying to keep this snappy and engaging, so if it seems more like a cooking show than a gardening blog, well, guilty as charged.

I’m somewhat tempted to describe each step, as creating even simple gardens takes far more work than most people anticipate. Knowing that I’m putting all my early-bloomers into a kiddie pool surrounded by tires makes it seem like the rest is just soil and planting. On the one hand, elucidating the hours of preparation required before soil is moved in seems like the fair and honest thing to do. On the other hand, it might seem a bit tedious, and make it seem like I’m looking for, at best, a gold star, and at worst, sympathy.

Allow me to say, then, that the prep work not shown on cooking shows is quite similar in scope and time to the prep work not listed here. Area, clean-up, measurements, arranging of physical assets, designing which iris go into which containers, choosing paint colors, buying all the paint equipment... Let’s put it this way: I have learned to never believe anything that claims to have only three easy steps!

Nonetheless, it felt like I was getting close to planting time, so I filled a kiddie pool halfway with water, and soaked the rhizomes in anticipation of getting them into real soil sometime soon. I schlepped the ten tires to the area they would call home for the next two seasons, and discovered my earlier measurements were spot on. (Measure twice, cut once applies to gardening, too!)

My darling husband (thank you, dear!) assisted me in rolling out the wire mesh, cutting it to the right sizes, and laying out the tires. Now, surely, planting was imminent!

So I proceeded to load the wheelbarrow with soil, bring it to the site, and fill in each tire with far more soil than I anticipated. Still plenty of soil there, though, so that was ok. I managed to get them all filled, and all the soaked rhizomes planted in just a few hours. The kiddie pool is still unplanted, which is the opposite order in which you would normally want to execute this layout, but the iris that are going into the kiddie pool are not only an early-bloomer, but also a re-bloomer (Stairway to Heaven) and threw out a bud the day before I was going to separate and plant them.

In order to not hold up the rest of the early-bloomers, I opted to work out of order, and I will plant the kiddie pool after the blooming is done. I consider this re-bloomer to be the inspiration to continue this project, and a kind of reward for how much work I have put into it so far. Seeing these gorgeous blooms are the reason for all this effort, and if anyone asked for a sign that this is worth it, here it is:

Stairway To Heaven ( Larry Lauer, R. 1992). 1993 Seedling L87-48-3. TB, height 40" (102 cm). 

Early to midseason bloom. Standards creamy off-white; Falls medium blue undertoned lavender; beards white; slight fragrance. 

“Edith Wolford” X “Breakers”. Cottage 1993. 

Honorable Mention 1995; Award of Merit 1997; Wister Medal 1999; American Dykes Medal 2000.

I am in no hurry for this to finish blooming... I can wait to separate and plant her, no rush.

In the meantime, I have all ten tires filled with rhizomes, and weed-preventer as my already-planted beds and kiddie pools sprouted hundreds of tiny weeds within two days of being planted... let the games begin, ha ha... ? This is the result thus far. Just imagine that pool is filled with Stairway to Heaven, and the picture will be complete.

So after that, I’m done.

Ha ha ha haha, ahhh ha ha haha... Not even close. I still have to design and install the drip irrigation. I have to finish the layout database (because name tags get separated from planters... it just happens). I have to weed. And feed. And monitor progress. Also, I have the better part of a five-gallon can of paint in this color...and you know I’ll end up painting more tires.

And, as I discovered to my surprise, I have probably two dozen more named iris in my yard that I am interested in adding to this project, to create the riot of color I so enjoy seeing in other people’s gardens. The process starts all over again: which ones to put where; what area to use; what layout will best show off their beauty; what materials will be needed. It’s going to be a ton of work. I can’t wait.

Gardens: the mystical place where one hour becomes nine

Although I work, and have eight dogs, ten sheep and an orange cat (orange cat owners know what that means) I somehow manage to spend the bulk of my time gardening. I do this by choice, and on days like today, I do it instead of all the things I should be doing. (Note: if anyone can tell me the four-letter word equivalent for “should” I’ll use that instead.)

I have two forms of proof that I spent the bulk of my weekend in the garden. First, the inside of my house could convince you that border collies have opposable thumbs, and second, I am finally making visible progress on our iris project. While I dream of coming home to a beautifully clean home and a delicious, fresh-cooked meal, it turns out—to my surprise—that I’m the wife, and am the one traditionally obliged to complete those tasks. Normally, my utterly darling husband steps up and makes a huge dent in the household chores, but he is out of town this weekend, and so I come home to the mess I made yesterday, after a long day in the garden... (Honey, did I mention how much I appreciate you? Consider this a second reminder that you’re the best.)

So, now it’s 9:30 at night, I’m eating from-the-freezer stir-fry, and having just unloaded and re-loaded the dishwasher, I can now sit down and gush and crow and preen over my garden photos (none of which show the true measure of the accomplishment I feel!). I’m that delightful combination of excited and bushed, which is a nice way to wrap up the weekend. And I get to share my progress photos with you, which makes it much more fun. But first, of course, I have to tell you what got done!

From previous posts, know you that I’d cleared an area of the yard with a gentle slope for our great planting endeavor. I also procured (donated!) kiddie pools, tires, and pallets. Drip irrigation materials are on hand, and the iris have all arrived (bought online, and from the San Fernando Valley Iris Society, who are just the loveliest people around). It was down to soil, and as also discussed in previous posts, planting directly into our (awful) soil is just an invitation to feed gophers and ground squirrels. Soil of a higher quality had to be obtained, and to keep it brief, the stars finally aligned for that to happen, and lucky me, six yards of very nice loamy, amended soil was delivered. Yaaaaaay!

P.S. Whomever came up with the expression “dirt cheap” has never had a dump-truck load of it delivered to their house.

“Hooray!” I exclaimed. “I can start planting now!”

But, that was premature. Because, you know, I’m not just going to stick them in the beds willy-nilly. There has to be a plan! A grand scheme! An over-arching concept! Right? I mean, I’m starting from bare dirt in about an acre of land. This is my big chance to design something amazing, and brilliant. Something that will end up in high-end gardening magazines, and be the first result when you search “gorgeous iris garden” and also be the ideal for all future iris lovers across the globe. I can’t just stick them in a kiddie pool and call it genius! There must be A Plan!

This, friends, is where the magic of gardening begins to ebb away, and the practical realities of being a Type-A overachiever with tendencies towards the grandiose starts to inhibit the actual gardening part of having a garden. I kid you not, there are probably a dozen steps between the dirt arriving, and the first iris rhizome getting planted in that dirt. I’ve had a few sips of wine, so it’s starting to be amusing to me...feel free to laugh along with me.

The good news (for me) is that in addition to being Type-A, I’m also very practical. I realized that I was not quite ready to design the most stunning garden of all time, and that just having a successful growing season was an excellent goal for this first planting year. Sufficiently self-chastened, I took some (more) advice from my sister, and created a visual catalog of all the iris I ordered, as well as all the named iris I already own. It turns out to be approximately 85 named iris. (The hundreds and hundreds of iris with missing names have earned their own post, so we’ll talk about those another time.) Luckily for me, I used to be an art director and graphic designer, and I very quickly assembled an excellent and clever (if I do say so myself) method of creating my very own iris catalog. Arrange-as-you-like printed envelopes:

This way, I can lay them out to create optimal color combinations without trying to drag my computer around the garden. Or worse, relying on my memory...

All the tags and labels that come with the rhizome go into the envelope. I feel so clever.

Of course, my goals for the garden are different from most commercial growers’ goals and requirements. I could have just planted them alphabetically! Or by type (“Tall beardeds on the left, folks, and intermediates on the right...”), but I created a slightly more challenging rubric of by-season and by complimentary-color combination. Which is to say, all the early bloomers are together, and then arranged in color combinations that enhance and support the beauty and uniqueness of each variety. Then the mid-season bloomers are together, and the late bloomers are together, etc, all arranged by a totally subjective and probably not-entirely-perfect color-enhancement and combination that, now that I’m typing it, sounds almost silly.

But, truly, a lot of thought went into which iris should be planted near which other iris. In my personal yard, I have what I call my yellow garden. I have combined many of my favorite yellow and yellow-adjacent plants in one area, and they all bloom their own variety of yellows, creating a really lovely and inviting spectacle. But I noticed when iris-shopping that often all the white iris (for example) look indistinguishable when they are planted together. There are subtle differences, of course, but the eye wearies of all white, or all blue, or all deep purple. And creating contrasts, and appealing color combinations really boosts the value of some of the more average or mundane blooms. A plain-ish yellow bloom becomes dull next to another plain-yellow bloom. But either of them in contrast with a vibrant purple (or reds, or pinks) become a vital part of a visually exciting tableau. Yeah, I just said that!

So, I printed out all the named iris stats onto envelopes, in full color. Then I separated them into bloom season (early, mid, late). And then began the fun of deciding which combinations of rhizomes should be created, and into which kind of bed (tires, raised beds, or kiddie pools) they should be planted. Now, I am going to toot my own horn again, and say that normally I am very very good at estimating how much time a task will take. And normally, I will brag about how that is one of my superpowers. Because of that, I will happily confess that I grossly, massively, and completely underestimated how long it would take me to create the layouts for the beds.

I figured it would take about an hour. It took closer to four. That’s with help from Chris. And that was after I had printed the envelopes, broken them into bloom-season groups, and made a preliminary layout. I was utterly unable to make the process faster, and I suddenly understood the appeal of planting them in alphabetical order.

When I woke up this morning at seven, I thought I would have everything planted by noon. Looking back, that is so naively adorable! I wrapped at sundown, because I still needed hardware and knew I wouldn’t get back before dark. Also, the dogs called and were threatening to see what they could whip up from leftovers and whatever was in the freezer... I had to call it a day. All the mid-season bloomers are planted in the raised beds, and the late-bloomers are the next to go in.

The great news is that I think we have a very attractive layout for each bed, and we will be able use all three types of beds for this test planting. Once I paint the tires for the early bloomers (because black tires in our climate will simply bake the roots of any rhizomes), they can get planted, too. I then have the drip system installation, and then... well, if you garden, you know there will always be something else. It will probably be weeding. I’m convinced the runoff will create beautiful green stripes of weeds in downhill rivulets from our beds... and then the gophers will really have something to think about!

Before that, though, here is a pictorial of how today proceeded:

It started out hot today, so we set up in the shade. You can see our magical raw materials: 

tires, raised beds, and lots of rhizomes. A thousand thanks to Chris for her help and company.

You don’t have to guess that it’s genius at work when you see we are using the hood of the car 

to lay out our magic envelopes and create the masterful final designs (cough, cough).

So, ha, I was pretty convinced we were going to need dozens of beds and walkways for the all the iris I ordered... and ha-ha, uh, no. This is pretty much the final configuration: early bloomers in the tires, midseason bloomers in the raised beds, and late bloomers in the kiddie pools. (Results may vary.)

Taken from the downslope, this all the room it takes to plant approximately 120 rhizomes. 

Yeah, I was surprised, too!

It looks, um, well, right now, see, they’re not painted yet, so they’re not really camera-ready, and so, well, it’s going to be, um, probably, like, you know, good. In the end. Maybe ignore this shot.

This is where most of the magic happened today. We laid out weed-blocking fabric, 

and then on top of that, we rolled out fine-grade wire mesh, to discourage the below-ground critters from coming up into the beds from underneath. I use the word “discourage” realizing 

they may come through anyhow, but at least we made it challenging!

So, here you can best see the wire and the weed-blocking fabric. 

This is such a tidy look, I hope they stay this nice looking throughout the season. Stay tuned.

Ah, finally! Rhizomes in the ground! Once we have the layout officially in our database, I will 

go through and remove all the lovely tags, so they can just look natural. And relaxed. Like me.

You, too, can work for nine hours and have this to show for it! 

Check again in the spring though, and then tell me what you think.

Me? I’m utterly tickled, and can’t wait to get outside tomorrow and plant some more!

And because I promised, here’s an iris for you to enjoy

Part of a long, tragic history of iris that were separated from their name tags. 

If you think you know the name, please let me know!

Separation Anxiety

To truly love iris and give them what they need, you must run on their schedule, which is to say, nature’s schedule. The plants bloom, grow, sleep, and reproduce on a strict itinerary, and if you are intending to help them thrive, you get on their calendar, not the other way around.

Mostly, it means that if you want blooms in the spring, you need to be done planting already. Thus, all your iris shopping is necessarily finished for the season since pretty much no one is shipping anymore. Any loose rhizomes or potted iris should be in the ground where you want them to bloom come springtime. And (and this is where it gets tricky for me) any rhizomes that needed to be separated to ensure good spring blooms and lots of bountiful growth should already be separated and planted.

Did I say “already”? Yes, well, I also said “should”....

I am going on the record to say I have planted none of my newly received rhizomes (only about 50 of them so far, with another 50 to come). I have not planted my potted rhizomes that I want in the ground for this coming spring bloom. And I have not separated the multitudes of iris that are already in the ground and are due or overdue for separation. I am behind. And it is officially starting to make me tense.

Far be it from me to take this tardiness in gardening lightly. I am serious about being a good plant custodian and caregiver. I want to give my lovely plants everything they need to be healthy and thrive. I seriously do. But I began this project with a few obstacles in my way, and quite a bit late in the season to boot. Now, I face a project with missed deadlines, and I’m still not ready to execute the most timely part of this endeavor: separating and planting rhizomes!

If, perchance, you don’t know much about rhizomes, and thus don’t know what “separating” means, here is a quick explanation which lacks many accurate or scientific qualities:

Rhizomes are the potato-like root that supports the greenery and blooms of the plant, and from which the finer roots grow down into the soil. Iris reproduce in two ways: through seeds, like many flowering plants (although this is not the primary method for iris, more on this later), and through offshoots from the rhizome of smaller rhizomes with the same genetic qualities (called increases). These small offshoots grow from the sides of the original rhizome, and can get quite large quite fast, which impacts the growth of all of the rhizomes in the cluster. This is why separation is needed.

If rhizomes impact each other, the growth and performance of the plant is affected. Digging up rhizomes, separating off the newer, smaller increases, and replanting them at a distance from each other allows for better growth and performance of all the rhizomes. This is both the joy and the curse of growing iris. “Look! My one beautiful iris is now six (or eight, or ten) beautiful iris!” quickly becomes, “Oh my gosh, I have 30 of the same iris and I have no idea where to plant them all!” Usually, it’s a delightful problem to have, until you actually do run out of garden space for all your wonderful plants. Imagine digging up a clump of iris that began as just one rhizome, and separating into a dozen rhizomes. You can see how the process become exponentially hard to support in a short amount of time.

This is the magical time of year that has more or less just concluded for most growers in my climate zone (central California). Yet I have dug up and separated exactly one clump of iris, and have not yet planted any of those separated rhizomes. As I walked around my garden this evening, I counted no fewer than 40 others that need digging up and separating... and I just kept walking. I am in dereliction of my duties. It will be a wonder if I get any sleep at all tonight... (ha ha?).

My primary obstacle is still that I have not ordered my planting soil (see previous posts on the dreadful condition of the native soil, and the many in-ground critters interested in devouring my plants). I have been acquiring kiddie pools, tires, and pallets for my experimental planting beds. I have been researching garden layouts, designs, and planting schematics. I have prepped the primary area, and have almost all the drip irrigation equipment I will need for the initial planting. But the soil is not ordered.

Part of the issue has been finding the right kind of soil to be delivered in the correct quantity. Part of it has been financial (since the quantity required is substantial). But mostly it’s all of the other things I am required to do in order to conduct my life. Yes, my pesky day job is part of it, but I am also responsible for a border collie rescue, executing my mother’s estate, and three separate gardens. That’s before I do anything that looks like resting or relaxing, mind you. Clearly, I needed this project to give me something to do, outside of my other interests....

And, actually, that’s the truth of it. I do need this project to balance out all the other tedious, difficult, dreary and monotonous obligations I have.

I love iris. I love growing them. I love looking at them. I love digging them up and separating them. I love that my love of iris comes from my mother, who passed away earlier this year. I love that being in her gardens and watching her iris bloom is a way for me to still be with her even though she’s gone. I love the soil, and the sun, and the friendship and enthusiasm of my fellow iris-lovers. I love the solitude of gardening on days when I need quiet, and also the camaraderie of sharing my garden with others.

I love the reward of dirt under my nails and long days planting, weeding and watering. It comes in the form of gorgeous blooms, a visible result, and also a sense of well-being and a kind of holiness, a communion with nature that investing the time and care brings me. It isn’t obvious or expected, like the wonderful blossoms we’ll get in the spring, but it sustains and replenishes my soul. I don’t want to sully it with too many words, but the payoff of the hours and the dirt and the sweat is far more than just pretty flowers and bragging rights.

So being a week or so behind in my digging and separating and planting isn’t ideal, that’s for sure. And I’m not worried about not getting gorgeous blooms in the garden this coming spring—they’ll be there. I’m not worried it won’t get done (and soon, it will be soon!), and I’m not even worried the plants won’t forgive my tardiness. I do love checking things off my list (there’s some Type-A in me, that’s for sure!), but that’s not what is giving me my separation anxiety. I’m yearning for that beautiful time of creation and nurturing that is the heart of gardening. I crave the connection I feel to my mother when I’m working in her garden, planting her increases, weeding her beds. I long to replenish my spirit with the unspoken gifts that being in nature bestows upon those of us with dirt in our shoes and under our nails. Loving iris and gardening is my gift to me, a way to honor my mother and still feel my connection to her, and once a year, brings a glorious visual explosion of beauty and accomplishment.

The soil will come soon enough. All my planting will be done soon after. The plants’ winter sleep will be done before we know it, and the bloom season will start the cycle over again. There’s a lot of love in that dirt, in those beds. I’m looking forward to getting outside and getting some of it under my nails.

'Doctor Who' (George Sutton, R. 2009). Seedling U-740. TB, 37" (94 cm), Midseason to late bloom. Standards and style arms chinese yellow (RHS 20D); Falls beetroot purple (71A), chinese yellow and beetroot burst pattern; beards spanish orange; ruffled; slight sweet fragrance. 'Tropical Delight' X 'Snowed In'. Sutton 2010. Honorable Mention 2012.