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.
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