Stamp Out Binomial Abuse!

 by Tom Waters

It is said that a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing. One manifestation of that pervasive truth is slapping botanical names onto plants where they don't belong. Is it perhaps the urge to seem erudite, or the mistaken notion (propagated in school biology classes), that every organism has a species name, or just unthinking propagation of error, dripping down through the years?

'Absolute Treasure'
Please don't call me I. germanica

I present a list of the four types of irises often identified incorrectly with a botanical species name that does not correctly apply to them. Each of these types is a group of hybrids with ancestry from multiple species. There is no need for a botanical species designation for hybrids of complex ancestry. The tall bearded iris 'Absolute Treasure' is best described---as I have just done---with the classification and registered cultivar name. If classification is clear within context, it can be left out. If one feels more botanically inclined (as might be the case if writing for a technical publication), the correct designation is the genus name in italics, followed by the cultivar name: Iris 'Absolute Treasure'.

Identifying a hybrid with a particular species is not just annoying to those of us with a pedantic streak but can lead to real confusion. People who want to acquire actual species out of botanical interest or for hybridizing, for example, can be sent down time-wasting rabbit holes by this practice, and it is even worse when false botanical names end up in published pedigrees and official descriptions.

So, let's look at the major offenders:

1. Referring to all Siberian irises as Iris sibirica or Iris siberica. This error is reinforced, I think, because of the similarity of the classification name to the botanical name. Most Siberian iris cultivars are advanced hybrids involving I. sibirica and I. sanguinea. The 40-chromosome Siberians do not involve I. sibirica at all.

'Katharine Hodgkin'
Please don't call me I. reticulata

2. Referring to all reticulata irises as Iris reticulata. Yes, there is a species, I. reticulata, sold in the bulb trade and grown in gardens. However, the horticultural group known as reticulata irises includes hybrids and cultivars from a range of species, including I. histrio, I. histrioides, and I. bakerana. Many of Alan McMurtrie's colorful recent hybrids involve I. danfordiae and I. sophenensis. Once again, I think the fact that the common name for the whole group ("reticulata irises") is so similar to the species name I. reticulata is largely to blame for the confusion.

3. Referring to all dwarf bearded irises as Iris pumila. Although the species I. pumila is important in the background of modern dwarf bearded irises, most cultivars are advanced-generation hybrids involving I. pumila and tall bearded iris cultivars in various combinations. Modern standard dwarf bearded (SDB) and miniature dwarf bearded (MDB) irises are far removed indeed from the species. I think part of the problem is that pumila is the Latin word for "dwarf," so people who are not botanically knowledgeable believe they can just translate the term "dwarf iris" to Iris pumila.

'Beetlejuice'
Please don't call me I. pumila

4. Referring to all tall bearded irises, or sometimes even all bearded irises of any type, as Iris germanica. Tall bearded irises are advanced-generation hybrids involving many species, most prominently I. pallida, I. variegata, and various tetraploid plants from the Eastern Mediterranean, such as I. mesopotamica. Botanists have differing views about how to apply the name I. germanica, which is unfortunate since it is the type species for the genus Iris. The plant given this name by Linnaeus is a natural hybrid of the intermediate bearded (IB) type. The approach taken by Warburton and Hamblen in The World of Irises is to regard this as a cultivar, not a species (thus 'Germanica'), and to avoid using the term I. germanica entirely. On the other hand, Mathew in The Iris broadens the term to encompass an assortment of similar plants, including many identified as distinct species, such as I. cypriana, I. trojana, and I. mesopotamica. Even taken in this broad sense, however, I. germanica does not include the modern tall bearded hybrids. Given the confusion around using this species name, the best practice is to avoid it in favor of more specific designations for particular plants and populations. Sadly, the use of I. germanica for tall bearded hybrids has become entrenched through generations of misuse, and it is continued unthinkingly by nurseries worldwide.

As a final aside, names that look like species binomials are sometimes used for groups of hybrids. For example, hybrids of I. domestica and I. dichotoma are referred to as Iris ´norrisii, and Iris ´hollandica may be used for Dutch Irises. Note that the "´" is a necessary part of these names. Furthermore, the Latin name for the hybrid group should never be identical to the name of some particular species.

Be wary of these widespread but incorrect uses of botanical names. They not only make it difficult to identify plants correctly but also add to a general confusion concerning the hybrid nature of popular groups of garden irises.

Using Species in MDB Breeding, Part 2: Iris aphylla x Iris pumila

 by Tom Waters

This is the second of three posts on my experimenting with various species in breeding miniature dwarf bearded (MDB) irises. Here’s a quick recap: Most MDBs today are small selections created when breeding standard dwarf bearded (SDB) irises. I think there is value in creating a line of true-breeding MDBs: fertile plants that are MDB-sized and consistently produce MDB-sized offspring. Ideally, such a line would be compatible with SDBs (and MDBs from SDB breeding), so one could use all the wonderfully developed modern MDB and SDB cultivars.

Certain dwarf species and combinations of species are compatible with SDBs in terms of their chromosome configuration. One such species is Iris lutescens, and in part 1 I described my work with this species to date. In this post, I look at hybrids from I. aphylla x I. pumila and their usefulness in MDB breeding.

I. aphylla crossed with I. pumila produces fertile hybrids having a chromosome configuration that is compatible with SDBs. The MDB ‘Velvet Toy’ (Dunbar, 1972) is an early example of such a hybrid. We might also include Ben Hager’s MDBs from his aphylla-derived MTBs crossed with I. pumila as another variation on this basic type, although the MTBs have tall bearded and border bearded ancestry as well as I. aphylla.

S006-01
 I. aphylla x I. pumila

My own aphylla x pumila seedling, S006-01, is an interesting little plant. The flowers are purple and not particularly distinctive, but the plant is quite small, at around five inches in height. It also has a unique branching pattern. It has basal branching inherited from I. aphylla. The branch and the main stem are of equal height, and each is topped with a double-budded socket. The four buds open successively, so there is only one flower open at a time. This seems to me a very desirable trait to introduce into MDBs, but so far none of its seedlings have inherited it.

I have bloomed a number of seedlings from SDB ‘Eye of theTiger’ (Black, 2008) X S006-01. They were a carnival of different colors and patterns, but unfortunately, none had the daintiness I was looking for. This spring, seven years after I made the cross, a straggler bloomed that seems genuinely small and MDB-sized. I will keep an eye on it in coming seasons.

S028-44
Eye of the Tiger X S006-01

Realizing that I probably should be crossing this seedling with small MDBs rather than SDBs, I used ‘Dollop of Cream’ (Black, 2006) and ‘Icon’ (Keppel, 2008) for the next round.

The ‘Dollop of Cream’ seedlings had fairly nice form, some blue, some white. They bloomed near the boundary of the MDB and SDB classes, but I am hoping they may settle out on the smaller side when grown in normal garden conditions. I kept a blue one with small flowers to evaluate further.

Seedlings from 'Dollop of Cream' X S006-01

The ‘Icon’ seedlings are more exciting color-wise, in various shades of orchid with deeply saturated spot patterns and dark blue beards. I describe the color as “juicy”. Sadly, they produced hardly any pollen, and I couldn’t really test them as pod parents because they bloom earlier than anything else except the pure I. pumilas. I did get a scant 8 seeds from sib-crossing two of them, so we shall see. Again, height is rather marginal, near the boundary between MDBs and SDBs. I’m keeping them all in hopes that they may produce more pollen in the future.

Icon X S006-01

I do believe my I. aphylla x I. pumila seedling has the potential to bring me toward my goal of a line of true-breeding MDBs. I have seeds from it crossed with ‘Self Evident’ (Hager, 1997) and ‘Miniseries’ (Keppel, 2011).  And it will also be interesting to take this one more generation further and see what emerges.

Using Species in MDB Breeding, Part 1: Iris lutescens

by Tom Waters

I’m a hobby hybridizer, working on a very small scale (I can only raise about 200 seedlings each year). So from the outset, I planned to focus on niche projects, rather than trying to compete with the large-scale hybridizers and their well-established breeding lines. I identified some projects that I thought might have value, but that few others were working on. One of these is to develop a line of true-breeding miniature dwarf bearded (MDB) irises.

As I’ve written previously, most MDBs produced today are small selections from standard dwarf bearded (SDB) breeding. Because the lines of the top SDB hybridizers are so advanced, this approach indeed produces many fine MDBs that display all the variety of color and refinement of form found in the modern SDBs. With a few exceptions, however, hybridizers do not have dedicated lines aimed specifically at producing MDBs. Rather, they select them from among their SDB seedlings that happen to fall below the height limit separating the two classes. Since these plants are genetically no different from SDBs, they are likely to produce SDB-sized seedlings, and some are prone to growing out of class, showing foliage and stalks out of proportion to their size, or having flowers that are too large and coarse.

In earlier times, most MDBs were produced by crossing SDBs with the species Iris pumila, which indeed produced smaller, daintier plants than those from pure SDB breeding. Unfortunately, these plants are unbalanced tetraploids with limited fertility, making them dead-ends.

If one is seeking a true-breeding line of MDBs, there are several options. One is to start with the SDBs and keep selecting for smaller size. Another option is that promoted by Ben Hager: cross tetraploid MTBs with I. pumila, then cross those seedlings with small SDBs or MDBs from SDB breeding. The idea here is that the MTB X pumila crosses will produce genetically smaller plants, and the genes for small size can be stabilized in the breeding line.

A third approach, which I have been exploring, is to expand the gene pool by using species (or combinations of species) that are small in size but belong to the same fertile family as the SDBs. This not only has the potential of creating a line of true-breeding MDBs, but also increases genetic diversity, which may give more variety of forms and colors. This is the first of a series of posts on this project, focused specifically on my hybridizing with I. lutescens and its close relations.

I. lutescens is a dwarf species found in the Mediterranean lands of southwestern Europe, particularly Spain, France, and Italy. There are many related but different populations in this range, which are sometimes given species status, but more often treated as synonyms of I. lutescens. I. subbiflora in Portugal and I. bicapitata in Italy, are almost always treated as separate species, but are part of the same continuum of types found in I. lutescens. Before the 1950s, most dwarf irises found in gardens in western Europe and North American were forms or hybrids of I. lutescens. After the first SDBs were produced, hybridizers quickly abandoned the older I. lutescens dwarfs in favor of the SDBs, which showed wider color possibilities and improved form.

Given this history, I did not at first think of using I. lutescens in my own hybridizing projects. On reflection, however, it seemed that those hybridizers of the 1950s, ‘60s, and ‘70s were excited about exploring the potential of the new SDBs, and not really concerned with creating true-breeding MDB lines. I. lutescens might indeed still have something to offer toward that goal. In nature, its forms span the MDB and SDB height ranges, and flowers are smaller than those of typical SDBs.

S004-01,
I. subbiflora ex Spain
(SIGNA seed)

 

S019-01,
I. lutescens (SRGC seed)

Early on, I grew a plant of I. subbiflora obtained from the SIGNA seed exchange, collected in Spain. Apparently this raises some doubts about its identification, as there is some question whether there are populations of I. subbiflora in Spain, or only I. lutescens. My plant is not as tall as most descriptions and photographs of I. subbiflora, normally being about nine inches in my garden.

Crossing the subbiflora with SDB ‘Kaching’ (Black, 2009) produced a lot of deep red seedlings, mostly of small SDB size, although height varied from year to year and with location in the garden. Although I enjoyed these seedlings, they were larger than what I was aiming for; so I made an effort to use MDBs, rather than SDBs, in future crosses, and to seek out small plants of I. lutescens to use instead of this I. subbiflora. A cross of I. subbiflora with MDB ‘Circa’ (Johnson, 2015) produced attractive plants near the MDB height limit, but still not as small and delicate as I would like.

S027-07,
'Kaching' X S004-01

 

S044-04,
'Circa' X S004-01

I raised a small purple I. lutescens from seed from the Scottish Rock Garden Club (SRGC) seed exchange. It’s about half the size of the I. subbiflora plant. Crossing this with MDB ‘Miniseries’ (Keppel, 2011) gave me a couple promising seedlings: one with small reddish flowers have rather tall stems; the other has mid-sized purplish flowers on shorter stems. I’d be happier if I’d gotten the small reddish flowers on the small stems! But these are interesting, and I will continue working with them.

S039-02,
S019-01 X 'Miniseries'

 

S039-03,
S019-01 X 'Miniseries'

I also crossed the SRGC I. lutescens with MDB ‘Pearly Whites’ (Black, 2014) and MDB ‘Beetlejuice’ (Black, 2013); and a number of these seedlings bloomed this spring. They were all interesting to look at, mostly nicer in form than expected. It’s too early to be sure what height they will settle out at, but this year most of them looked more like small SDBs than like MDBs.

S055-05,
'Beetlejuice' X S019-01

  

S055-11,
'Beetlejuice' X S019-01

S056-01,
'Pearly Whites' X S019-01

I acquired some other small lutescens plants to work with: one from the Berkeley Botanical Garden, and one from Sean Zera, raised from SIGNA seed. I have not yet bloomed seedlings from these. I keep acquiring more I. lutescens seeds, hoping to expand my collection, particularly in colors other than purple. I. lutescens grows here, but doesn’t seem really happy. My high desert zone 5/6 garden in New Mexico is a long way from the south of France.

I am enjoying working with species in MDB breeding, but it must be emphasized that this is a long-term project. Any use of species in breeding must be followed up with several generations of crossing back to modern hybrids if one wishes to meet current expectations of width, ruffling, and substance. It appears that some persistence will be needed to combine the genes for short stems, small flowers, and narrow foliage in the same line. Still, I’m finding these explorations to be a very satisfying use of my small space and limited resources.

Bearded Iris Species for the Garden

 by Tom Waters

Most of us are quite familiar with the gorgeous hybrid bearded irises grown in so many gardens around the world. Whether dwarf, median, or tall bearded, these irises are the great show-stoppers of the springtime iris parade. Every year, hybridizers introduce new varieties, so there is a never-ending stream of new colors, patterns, and flower forms.

But before hybridizers took an interest in irises - and that was scarcely more than 100 years ago - bearded irises in gardens were much like irises in nature. Yes, bearded irises are wildflowers in Europe and western Asia, where numerous different species grow on hillsides or in valleys without gardeners to care for them.

These wild bearded irises are of interest to some iris growers, for a variety of reasons. Some of us are just attracted to wild flowers, and like to see the plants as nature made them. Others are students of iris history, and it is these bearded species that are ancestral to our modern hybrids; growing them is like tracing the roots of our family tree. Others are hybridizers, curious to explore the untapped potential of these species.

Here is just a smattering of bearded iris species that may be of interest, with an emphasis on those that have been mentioned frequently in books and articles or that have featured prominently in the development of our modern bearded iris hybrids.

Iris pallida,
a form with variegated foliage

Iris pallida is a European tall bearded (TB) species, with light blue-violet flowers and straight stems with branching clustered near the top. To my eye, it is the most stately of all the bearded iris species.

I. variegata, another European species, is smaller, similar to  miniature tall bearded (MTB) irises in size, with zig-zag stems and distinctively colored flowers with yellow standards and falls marked in wine-red or brick-red.

These two species are probably the sole ancestors of the diploid tall bearded irises grown in gardens in the 1800s and early 1900s. They hybridize in nature, and these natural hybrids (amoenas, bitones, and blends) were collected by flower lovers and grown in European gardens. Any modern TB iris that has yellow (or pink or orange) coloration owes its color to I. variegata.

Iris variegata

The other wild irises important in the development of the modern TBs were a range of different tetraploid plants from various locations in the eastern Mediterranean. These include I. cypriana, I. trojana, I. mesopotamica, and some named clones such as 'Amas' and 'Ricardi'. All are purple bitones and large, well-branched plants. The botanical status of these is not as clear as might be, but every modern TB descends from them in some fashion. It was hybridizers of the early 20th century who crossed the colorful diploid pallida/variegata hybrids with these large tetraploids to create the modern tetraploid TBs that have become the most popular and widely grown of all irises.

Iris aphylla

Moving down in height, we come next to I. aphylla, a species from eastern Europe that is usually similar to standard dwarf bearded (SDB) or intermediate bearded (IB) irises in height, but copiously branched, the lowest branch usually emerging right at ground level! The flowers are dark violet, and beards usually bluish. It has been used in two different ways in breeding modern bearded irises: first in breeding "black" TBs, and then later in the work of Ben Hager and others creating the tetraploid MTBs. See my earlier blog post Our Debt to Iris aphylla.

In the realm of dwarf species, the earliest known to western European gardeners was I. lutescens (once called I. chamaeiris), which is native to the warm Mediterranean areas of Spain, France, and Italy. It was the basis for our garden dwarf bearded irises until the 1950s. Its height varies, spanning the modern MDB and SDB classes and sometimes growing even a bit taller. Colors are yellows, violets, whites, and blended and bitoned versions of those colors. See my post Iris lutescens: The Dwarfs that Time Forgot.

Iris pumila seedlings

The most important dwarf species in the development of modern dwarf and median irises is the species I. pumila, native to cooler, higher regions of eastern Europe. It is quite tiny, usually only about 4 inches tall, with blooms that appear almost stemless and  spring straight from the rhizomes. It has an extensive color range, from white to blue, purple, rosy, and yellow, usually with a darker spot of violet, red, or brown. It came to the attention of iris breeders in western Europe and the US rather late, in the mid-20th century. Once "discovered," however, it became a power player in iris breeding. I. pumila, when crossed with TBs, produced the modern SDB class, and through them the modern MDBs and IBs as well. See Iris pumila: A Tiny Treasure.

Iris reichenbachii grows wild on the Balkan peninsula, where it exists in both diploid and tetraploid forms. The flowers are rather long in form, and most are either a dull yellow or a grayish violet. This species is notable in the history of iris breeding for introducing the "dominant amoena" gene into the TB gene pool through the work of Paul Cook. Most modern bicolors have I. reichenbachii back somewhere in their family tree. See The Untapped Potential of Iris reichenbachii.

Iris reichenbachii

Also worthy of note is I. reichenachii's diploid relation, I. suaveolens (once called I. mellita). It is smaller than I. reichenbachii, but otherwise similar. It is noted for its sickle-shaped leaves, in some forms edged in a narrow line of red-violet pigment.

I hope this line-up of bearded species has piqued your interest. They are nice additions to the garden for anyone who is curious about where our garden iris "came from" or is attracted to the simple beauty of wildflower irises. One sometimes finds a few bearded species available from commercial iris growers, but more are consistently available through various seed exchanges from societies like the Species Iris Group of North America, the Scottish Rock Garden Club, the British Iris Society, or the Dwarf Iris Society.

Why not "go wild" and try some bearded species this year!

Pronouncing Botanical Latin: a Personal Perspective

By Tom Waters

No One Knows How To Say It

As a passionate student of both horticulture and language, this is a subject I have strong interest in. If you search the web (or a library) looking for guidance on how to pronounce a particular Latin name, you will quickly find an array of conflicting recommendations. You are also likely to see such recommendations prefaced by a remark such as the following (no, I cannot bear to link to this site):

Relax! The good news is there is NO "correct" way to pronounce them! You may pronounce them any way you wish, and you will be just as "correct" as any Ph.D. botanist. So have confidence, and just say them however feels comfortable to you. Anyone who corrects you is only showing their own ignorance, and the correct response is to just smile and say "Yes, that's what I said, (and repeat the name as you pronounced it before).

In my experience, the more strident the assertion that there is no correct pronunciation, the more scattered and arbitrary the pronunciation advice that follows. Still, the sentiment above has been expressed in milder form by a number of respected writers knowledgeable in botanical Latin, including the modern pontiff on the subject, W. T. Stearn:

How they are pronounced really matters little provided they sound pleasant and are understood by all concerned...

Now one can hardly take exception to the pragmatic assertion that the purpose of language is to communicate, and if one is communicating successfully, there is no cause for anxiety or concern. Yet it strikes me as odd that people writing about the pronunciation of botanical names so often feel obliged to include such a disclaimer. Writers on other disciplines do not. When was the last time you read a chemistry text that reassured students with "You can say OX-i-gen, ox-EYE-gen, or OH-zee-gen, and they are all correct!"

From the standpoint of linguistics, which regards the spoken language as primary and the written language as secondary, it is quite a strange circumstance that a community of speakers would not know how to say the words they use. How did this come about?

A Little History of Latin as Spoken in England

Long after the fall of the Roman Empire, Latin remained the lingua franca of Europe, particularly among the learned. Although it ceased to be a native language, it did not cease to be a spoken language. Even into the nineteenth century, classically educated people in Europe would converse in Latin, as well as writing and reading it. Because the language was in continuous use, its pronunciation changed with the locale and the era, as does the pronunciation of any language. Especially significant were the changes that occurred in England. During the Middle English period, English experienced what is known as "the great vowel shift", which dramatically changed the sounds of the long vowels: A went from "ah" to "ay", E from "eh" to "ee", and I from "ee" to "eye". Thus Old English mis (pronounced "mees") became Modern English mice. Keep in mind that this shift in pronunciation was not something people were conscious of; it happened gradually over several generations. The older pronunciations were forgotten. And the change carried the pronunciation of Latin words with it. So as "mees" changed to "mice", so linum (Latin for "flax") changed from "LEE-num" to "LYE-num". (Of course, there have been many other changes in English pronunciation between when the Romans introduced Latin to England and the present day, but these are some of the most pertinent for the present discussion.) Other pronunciation changes were happening all over Europe, so that Latin as pronounced in England was different from Latin as pronounced in Germany, which was different again from Latin as pronounced in France.

As many of our modern sciences blossomed from the seventeenth century onward, they took their terminology from Latin. Botany was no exception: following Linnaeus's system of binomial nomenclature, every species was assigned a genus name and species name, both in Latin form (although the root words from which these names were formed were often Greek or from some other language). In England, these Latin (or Latinized) names were all pronounced as Latin was pronounced in England at the time. There was at this time no disagreement over the pronunciation of words in Latin. Even those constructed on Greek roots were easy to pronounce for anyone with a classical education (just as people of our generation knew how to pronounce "internet" when the word first appeared, since although it was a new word it was made up of familiar components.) Furthermore, many technical terms were adopted straight from Latin into English, with perhaps only a minor change in form. Many of these borrowings from Latin are transparent to us today: area, species, orbit, formula, momentum.

Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Open Your Mouth...

By the late nineteenth century, linguists had worked out, based on careful study of ancient sources and comparisons between the various Romance languages, how Latin was actually pronounced in the classical era of Caesar and Cicero. Latin began to be taught according to this reconstructed classical pronunciation, rather than the English pronunciation that had been familiar up to that time. This was a positive change in terms of appreciating the previously forgotten sounds of the ancient language, but it gave rise to problems in using the Latin or Latinized technical vocabulary of the sciences. In most cases, the traditional English pronunciation was retained, as the words had already become quite familiar. Thus species remained "SPEE-sheez" (the traditional English pronunciation), rather than becoming "SPEK-ee-ess" (the classical pronunciation).

Note: I've come across a few references that erroneously use the word "traditional" to refer to the reconstructed classical pronunciation of Latin. In this context, the word "traditional" does not mean "oldest", but instead refers to what has been handed down through tradition (with changes along the way), rather than what has been reconstructed by linguists studying ancient Latin.

But for words less often encountered, such as the names of lesser-known genera and species, English speakers after 1900 were left in a state of uncertainty. The traditional English pronunciation was no longer being taught, and fewer people had any instruction in Latin at all. So from the 20th century on, people encountering a Latin species name for the first time would either (1) use the traditional English pronunciation if they could infer it from the pronunciation of similar names they had actually heard spoken, (2) use the classical Latin pronunciation if they had learned this in school or from books, or (3) make something up. You will find all of these approaches evidenced in the pronunciation guides now in circulation, almost always mixed together without much attempt at consistency.

Botany (or biology, more broadly speaking), I think, has suffered worse from this confusion than the other sciences that make use of Latin terms, simply because we have so many names to contend with (many of which will be encountered in writing before they are ever heard), rather than a manageable set of technical terms whose pronunciation is reinforced by use in conversation. It is small wonder that writers on the subject have given up trying to maintain a pronunciation system that is shared by all.

OK. Now What?

So what is one to do, assuming that one is actually interested in pronouncing the names in a way that has some basis in linguistic tradition, rather than just arbitrary guesswork? For me, it comes down to two viable choices: (1) use the traditional English pronunciation, or (2) use a mixture of the traditional and classical systems, informed and tempered by the practices of people you converse with.

Why not just use the classical pronunciations exclusively? Surely this has the best claim to being the "real" pronunciation of Latin. The reason is that many plant names have become familiar in their traditional English pronunciation, and they are here to stay. Iris itself is a perfect example. The classical pronunciation is "EE-ris". Try this at your next local iris society meeting or at your local nursery and see how it goes. Many other examples are easy to come by. Who is going to talk of "gair-AH-ni-ums" instead of "jer-AY-ni-ums"? "SAY-dum" instead of "SEE-dum"? "nar-KISS-us" instead of "nar-SISS-us"? (If you do adopt a consistently classical pronunciation, though, you will come closer to the way many non-English speakers pronounce the names.)

My own inclination is to use the traditional English pronunciation, up to the point where it isolates me from contemporary practice in my area. An example is the term plicata, which is "pli-KAH-ta" classically and "pli-KAY-ta" traditionally. In North America, at least, I don't ever expect to hear the latter as the name for the familiar iris color pattern - or the pseudo-species for which it was named. I will, however, say "re-tik-yoo-LAY-ta", "flor-en-TYE-na", and "hoog-i-AY-na", even though I often hear "ret-tik-yoo-LAH-ta", "flor-en-TEE-na", and "hoog-i-ANN-a". The traditional English pronunciations have several advantages. We can use English words borrowed from Latin as a pronunciation guide (alpine helps us pronounce alpinus, albino helps us pronounce albinus, variegated helps us pronounce variegata, etc.) It also provides a consistency that reinforces the pronunciation of common elements in different names, and thus makes new names easier to pronounce when you encounter them. Finally, it connects us to the English-speaking botanists and gardeners of the past, who knew no other way to pronounce Latin. W. R. Dykes and Sir Michael Foster are excellent company, in my view.

If you mix traditional and classical pronunciations (provided you get your mix from listening to others, rather than randomly), then your choices are less likely to stand out in your locality, and will probably come closer to what people in your area would expect, having encountered the names only in writing. 

Etiquette

Just in case anyone should interpret the above to imply that I'm some kind of obsessive pronunciation enforcement officer, have no fear. It is bad manners to correct anyone's pronunciation, particularly in an area where informed people can and do have different preferences. My approach is to respect others' informed choices, to encourage struggling beginners (it's much more important that they want to talk about iris species at all than that they pronounce them well), and to work to inform myself as best I can, so that I can be a resource to others if asked. In my experience the oft-cited unpleasantness of people correcting each other's pronunciation is a rarity.

An Anecdote in Three Parts

Let me conclude with a story of one iris name and its pronunciation, spanning several decades. When I was a teenager, I was already interested in Latin and knew its (classical) pronunciation rules. In one of our iris society round robins (a sort of pre-internet discussion group, conducted through the quaint media of paper, typewriters, and envelopes), the question came up of how to pronounce Iris pseudacorus. I asserted that pseuda- meant "false" and that I didn't know whether corus had a long or short o in Latin, which would determine which syllable to stress. Bee Warburton, one of the iris world's luminaries, patiently explained that there is plant called Acorus, the sweet flag, that the prefix pseudo- lost its -o- in the compound, and that Acorus is stressed on the first syllable. So the pronunciation can only be "sood-ACK-or-us". It was my first encounter with the names as living words, words that could be understood if you knew about the plants as well as the language.

Recently, while attending an open house at an amazing display garden in my area, someone remarked on irises growing in a watercourse, and asked if they were Louisianas. The garden owner said they were not, but could not recall the name. He said they were the fleur-de-lis. Being helpful, I suggested pseudacorus. Because I was stressing the a instead of the o, he didn't recognize my suggestion as being the same as the name he had read in books. I mention this because it provides a cautionary note to the oft-repeated advice to "say it however you like, people will understand". There are some advantages to using a shared pronunciation.

Finally, out of curiosity, I decided to try to verify Warburton's assertion that the a is stressed, and that it is short. Internet searches quickly revealed many web sites stating with authority that the pronunciation is "sood-AY-cor-us", many others stating with authority that it is "sood-ACK-or-us", plenty holding out for "sood-a-COR-us", and one lone site with enough honesty (or bewilderment) to offer a choice of pronunciations. None of them provided the etymology in enough detail that I could verify the vowel lengths in either Latin or Greek. In this research game, you soon find that the older the source, the more reliable, consistent, and informed it is likely to be. If you can get back to the nineteenth century, any book you find is likely to be written by someone who actually knew some Latin and Greek, and who had a good idea what the words meant and how they had been adapted. Sure enough, I eventually came upon A Manual of Scientific Terms: Pronouncing, Etymological, and Explanatory; Chiefly Comprising Terms in Botany, Natural History, Anatomy, Medicine, and Veterinary Science: with an Appendix of Specific Names, by the Reverend James Stormonth (1885, digitized by Google), wherein I learned that all three vowels are short in Greek akoros as well as in Latin acorus. Bee was right all along. Not that I doubted that.

Footnote: -oides

One often finds, in pronunciation guides that are informed and careful, the advice that this ending, common in plant names, should be pronounced "oh-EYE-deez". The reasoning is sound: -ides comes from Greek -eidos, "resembling", with the -o- as a connective. Thus the i is long, and the short o is separate from it. Yet strangely, I kept encountering venerable and reliable sources suggesting it be pronounced "OY-deez". Why should that be? I learned that in the traditional English pronunciation of Latin, when two vowels are in hiatus, the first usually became long. Furthermore, oi is a diphthong in Anglo-Latin, though an uncommon one. Since most of the words with this ending are coined technical terms, not natural borrowings into Latin from Greek, early speakers of scientific Latin in England may have had some latitude in pronunciation, whether to regard the -oi- as a diphthong or not. In the cases where a coined Latin word with this ending was borrowed fully into English (asteroid being a prime example), the -oi- was pronounced as a diphthong. "OY-deez" is certainly more natural for English speakers than the trisyllabic alternative.

Interesting factoid.

Hybridizing with Iris reichenbachii

by Tom Waters

Four years ago, I wrote a blog post here titled “The Untapped Potential of Iris reichenbachii”. At that time, I could comment on the use of I. reichenbachii in median breeding only as a promising theoretical possibility. Now, however, I have some solid results from my own hybridizing work to share.

As mentioned in the earlier post, I. reichenbachii exists in both diploid and tetraploid forms. The diploid forms can be used with diploid MTBs, while the tetraploid forms are compatible with TBs, BBs, and tetraploid MTBs. It was the tetraploid grouping that I was interested in, so my first priority was to acquire tetraploid forms of I. reichenbachii. Alas, none of the plants or seeds available commercially or through seed exchanges have been identified as either diploid or tetraploid, so I had to make this determination myself. Not being equipped to make chromosome counts, this meant making test crosses and patiently waiting for the results.

Happily, it turns out that the tetraploid forms are not uncommon. The first two reichenbachii forms I started crossing with both turned out to be tetraploid. One is a yellow form, a collection from Mt. Vikos in Greece. The second is actually a group of plants of unknown origin I raised from seed obtained from a collector in Czechia. Most of these are violet.

I. reichenbachii ex Mt. Vikos, Greece

Waters T009-02, purple tetraploid I. reichenbachii

Waters T051-01,
I. aphylla X I. reichenbachii ex Mt. Vikos

I have three fertile tetraploid seedlings now. The yellow Mt. Vikos form gave me seedlings with I. aphylla and with the tetraploid median plicata ‘Saucy’ (Craig, 1998, IB). One of the violet forms gave me a seedling with the tetraploid median ‘Night Mood’ (L. Markham, 2003, SPEC-X). All three of the seedlings fall in the SDB height range and have the slender stems of I. reichenbachii. None are any competition for the modern, ruffled, dramatically colored median hybrids being produced these days; rather, their value is in further breeding. Because these plants are so small and dainty, they can be used to add these qualities to tetraploid MTB or BB breeding programs. So the next step is to cross these seedlings with the best modern BBs and tetraploid MTBs. It would be nice to have all the color patterns, form, and substance the modern BBs have to offer, but in a line of plants that was consistently small and delicate. This project is already well underway, as I have hundreds of seeds from using these seedlings over the past two years.

Waters T059-02,
Saucy X I. reichenbachii ex Mt. Vikos

Waters T060-01,
Night Mood X T009-02

A second project using I. reichenbachii is directed toward producing dainty MDBs. Most modern MDBs are produced by accident - they are just seedlings from SDB crosses that fall below the 8-inch height limit. These MDBs can be very lovely in terms of flower form and color pattern, but they can easily grow out of class, and often lack the daintiness and early bloom that one hopes for in a true miniature dwarf.

SDBs are the result of crossing TBs with the dwarf species I. pumila. What if one used I. reichenbachii instead of TBs? The result should plants fully fertile with SDBs and modern MDBs, but much smaller. I have three seedlings so far (more on the way) from crossing the Mt. Vikos reichenbachii with the I. pumila cultivar ‘Royal Wonder’ (Coleman, 2013, MDB). One is purple, the other two are yellow. All our about 5 inches tall, with one or two terminal buds. They bloom earlier, overlapping the pumilas and the first MDBs. They are indeed fertile with SDBs and with MDBs from SDB breeding. Once again, the value of these seedlings is not in competing with the showiest modern hybrids, but in further breeding, where they can be expected to produce a line of consistently dainty and early-blooming MDBs. Again, this project is on its way forward, with many seeds from using these seedlings with modern MDBs and SDBs.

Waters S026-01,
I. reichenbachii ex Mt. Vikos X Royal Wonder

Waters S026-02,
I. reichenbachii ex Mt. Vikos X Royal Wonder

These projects using I. reichenbachii are not for the impatient; they are multi-generation endeavors. Yet, there is something uniquely satisfying in breaking new ground.

Irises in Containers

by Tom Waters

Irises are not usually thought of as container plants, but they can grow quite well that way, and there are a number of advantages to doing so.

Two Iris pumila cultivars,
'Wild Whispers' (Coleman, 2012) and
'Royal Wonder' (Coleman, 2013),
growing happily in a large container

The irises I choose to grow in containers are mostly dwarf bearded irises and the smaller arils and arilbreds. Tall bearded irises look out of place in even the largest containers, and a light container soil mix may not give them the support they need when top-heavy with bloom. The smaller irises, however, are naturals for container culture. They bring the plants closer to eye level for viewing, and allow them to be moved from place to place for best effect. If attractive containers, like oak barrels or terracotta pots are used, the effect can be quite lovely and dramatic.

There are additional advantages to container culture. I tend to put rare or choice plants into containers when I first acquire them, as it makes them much easier to weed and care for. A small iris that might get lost in an overgrown summer garden and succumb to neglect, is kept safe in a container where it can get the attention it needs.

Two forms of the exotic oncocyclus species Iris paradoxa
in a large container with a gritty soil mix

Arils are another good candidate for container culture in climates where summers are too wet to grow them successfully in the ground. The container can be stored in a warm dry place through the irises' summer dormancy period. It is also possible to provide a coarse, well-draining soil mix that would be difficult to maintain in the open garden.

As a hybridizer working with dwarfs and other small irises, I also appreciate that containers make the blooms more accessible. It's much nicer to pull a chair up to a container than to crawl around on the ground to harvest pollen or make a cross.

Most of my containers are inexpensive plastic models, in the largest size possible (two to three feet in height and diameter). Even the smallest irises enjoy a wide and deep root run. I fill them with various soil mixes, depending on what I have at hand, but I usually use a mix of my garden soil (a somewhat sandy silt) and commercial potting soil, sometimes with addition of compost, coarse sand, or even small gravel. The irises do not seem too picky about the exact composition of the potting mix. I like to use a top dressing of gravel as a mulch. It also looks nice, especially if a few rocks are positioned on top to make a miniature landscape.

Even in a container with enriched soil, irises will not go forever without dividing them and refreshing the soil mix every few years. Keep an eye out for overcrowding or declining vigor. Also, it is important to keep to a regular watering schedule; how frequently you water will depend on your climate, but the only time I have lost an otherwise healthy plant in a container was when I accidentally let it get bone-dry in the summer. Containers are less forgiving in this way than garden soil.

If you've never grown irises in containers, give it a try this year! You may find it offers both esthetic and practical rewards.

Iris reichenbachii blooming profusely in a container

Iris lutescens: The Dwarfs that Time Forgot

by Tom Waters

Dwarf bearded irises may be found growing wild throughout much of southwestern Europe, from Spain and Portugal, through southern France, and into northern and central Italy. Through the centuries, different botanists have encountered them in different localities and assigned different names to them: Iris chamaeiris, I. italica, I. olbiensis, I. lutescens, I. virescens, I. subbiflora, I. bicapitata.

Iris lutescens, raised from seed

By the twentieth century, it was clear that most, if not all, of these were really irises of the same species. Gardeners were most familiar with those from southern France, going by the name of I. chamaeiris, so began referring to the whole species as the “chamaeiris complex”. But the rules of botanical nomenclature require that synonyms be resolved by using the earliest published name for the species. In this case, that honor goes to I. lutescens, the name used by Lamarck in 1789. This is now the correct name for all these irises, with the exception of two irises at the extremities of the species’ range,  I. subbiflora in Portugal and I. bicapitata in the Gargano peninsula of eastern Italy, which are regarded by many (though not all) botanists as distinct species in their own right. Even if these are not regarded as belonging to I. lutescens, they are indisputably very close relatives.

I. lutescens is a delightfully varied species. The flowers are most often yellow, cream, or violet, but there are near-white forms, purples, blends, and bitones. In height, they range from about 6 to 12 inches (15 to 30 cm). The stem is unbranched, with one or two terminal flowers.

Iris lutescens 'Bride' (Caparne, 1901)

Until the second half of the twentieth century, I. lutescens  and a handful of its accidental hybrids with other species were the only dwarf bearded irises known to gardeners in western Europe and North America. Named cultivars were produced by the firm of Goos and Koenemann in Germany, by W. J. Caparne in England, and later by Hans and Jacob Sass, among others, in the US. At this time, the modern dwarf and median classes did not exist, so there was no distinction between miniature dwarfs and standard dwarfs; they were all simply “dwarf bearded”, and spanned the whole natural height range of the species, which straddles both of the modern categories.

Iris lutescens 'Path of Gold' (Hodson, 1941)

Although many people grew a few dwarfs, appreciating their charm and early bloom, almost all the attention of iris enthusiasts in the first half of the twentieth century was focused on the tall bearded. The dwarfs were rather taken for granted, by both gardeners and hybridizers. That began to change with the formation of the Dwarf Iris Society under the leadership of Walter Welch in the 1940s. Welch and his friends were determined to learn all they could to advance dwarf hybridizing, and their interest went beyond the I. lutescens cultivars to investigate other dwarf species, such as I. pumila from eastern Europe.

I. pumila is a diminutive species, about half the height of I. lutescens, single-flowered and almost stemless. Robert Schreiner had imported some seeds in the 1930s, and the species gradually became available to the new dwarf hybridizing enthusiasts. The turning point came in 1951, when Paul Cook in Indiana, who had exchanged his pumila pollen for TB pollen from his friend Geddes Douglas in Tennessee, introduced the first pumila/TB hybrids: ‘Baria’, ‘Green Spot’, and ‘Fairy Flax’. Although technically “intermediates” (as the word was used then, it meant a hybrid between dwarf and tall bearded irises), these new irises were no larger than many I. lutescens dwarfs, even though they often had a branch and a total of three buds! This launched a vigorous debate about classification, which led ultimately to the formation of the Median Iris Society and the four median classes we have today. The SDB class was created to accommodate the new pumila/TB hybrids and the taller I. lutescens cultivars, with the MDB class left for the “true dwarfs”, with a maximum height limit of 10 inches, later adjusted to 8 inches.

From the 1960s on, the SDBs from pumila/TB breeding totally dominated the world of dwarf irises. These SDBs carry an extraordinary genetic legacy (dramatic spot patterns from I. pumila, pinks and plicatas from TBs, not to mention more modern form). There was no interest any more in producing more of the overly familiar yellow or violet I. lutescens cultivars. Even the MDB class was taken over by the new SDBs. Most MDBs from the 1960s onward were produced by crossing the new SDBs back to I. pumila, or (especially in recent decades), just selecting irises from SDB breeding that happen to be under the height limit.

I. lutescens, once the very archetype of the dwarf bearded irises in gardens, is now a curiosity known only to species enthusiasts.

Is there any hope for a lutescens renaissance? At first blush, it would seem unlikely. The modern SDBs have been so developed by decades of dedicated hybridizing that they would seem to have nothing to gain (and much to lose, in terms of present-day expectations of the class) by the injection of I. lutescens into hybridizing lines.

If I. lutescens is to be heard from again in dwarf hybridizing, the opportunity may be in the MDB class. Some MDB enthusiasts have been grumbling of late that the class has been taken over by short SDBs, and is losing something of its distinctive charm. There may be some niche here for MDBs with more of a “wildflower” look, breaking away from the stiffness, width, and ruffling that comes from pure SDB breeding. Just as the MTB class has given a home to the simpler, more modest look of the diploids, perhaps there is an opening for more “retro” MDBs. I. lutescens is fully fertile with SDBs and their MDB progeny, and might add a breath of fresh air to a class that is starting to feel overworked.

Everything old is new again?

Iris lutescens campbelli

The World of Irises is the official blog of The American Iris Society. Now in its 99^th year, The American Iris Society exists to promote all types of irises. If you wish to comment on a post, you can do so at the end of the page and the author or the editors will reply. If you wish to learn more about The American Iris Society, follow the link.