By Grahame Ware
October 2024
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| Siberian iris ‘Banish Misfortune’ (Marty Schafer & Jan Sacks, 1999) photo by Grahame Ware |
All of us have abiding interests in life. You get the photography bug or the writing rash, or, worst of all, an art-collecting mania grips you; and it won’t let go. With me, these abiding interests are like a self-inflicted tattoo made without the company of sailors and drinking too much rum, or possibly, they’re a birthmark that I’ve only just recognized rising out of my epidermal sheath.
When the flames of enthusiasm have been lit, the fire never goes out. Oh, the embers may cool, but they are always ready to burst back into flames when a wind of inspiration blows up. And blow up it did this past year with my latent love for irises. But, this time, I didn’t hold back— I gave in— and had a full-blown tryst with the iris muse. I wanted as many of those “girls of the rainbow” as possible. I envisioned them everywhere in my garden. Only then did it dawn on me that my iris fire was raging. Ahh, but my muse knew ... and she was smoldering without a smile in a curiously alluring way.
Proof of this fiery syndrome is provided herein below:
a) Early in the New Year, I joined The American Iris Society with an inexpensive e-membership so I could mine their archives and do research on iris cultivars. So far, so good.
b) The first iris subgroup that I pursued and joined was the Society for Pacific Coast Native Iris, mostly because they had a seed exchange. Their seedex is a wonderful affair and I was able to get some really good seed and, subsequently, get some good seedlings going. They’re now planted out in a new bed and settling in very nicely. Kudos to Louise Guerin.
c) Quite soon after that, I joined the Ontario Iris Society (ONIS) and enthusiastically wrote an article for their winter newsletter on my attraction to standard dwarf bearded (SDB) irises I’d received from their rhizome sales in ’22 and ‘23. I had taken advantage of their rhizome sales, a marvelous way to raise funds for ONIS. Now, as a member for the first time, I got priority of ordering for the sale this past July. Merci, merci, merci Kate Brewitt.
d) I’d become fascinated with so many historical iris cultivars (cvs) that I just had to join the Historic Iris Preservation Society (HIPS) because— whaddya know?—this organization also had a rhizome sale that was cross-border friendly (as well as being a fantastic fundraiser). The rhizomes and the historic iris offerings were simply amazing. It was a big ‘Wow’— the momentum was building. All hail Nancy McDonald and Barbara-Jean Jackson for my ‘Storm On Superior’ package that included a huge ‘Voltigeur’ chunk!
e) Then I turned right around and signed up for the Dwarf Iris Society because— guess what?— I discovered they were having a seed sale with many exciting crosses and cultivars that I had no hope of acquiring any other way except through their seed sale. No, this wasn’t a “bridge (or a binge) too far”; and, yes, I’m a seed-growing nut that loves having healthy, home-grown seedlings. They outperform. My seed order via post arrived here on Gabriola Island, on Canada’s Pacific coast, in one week all the way from New Mexico— a distance of over 2000 kms flying and nearly 3000 kms driving. I can’t wait to see what the ‘Green Spot’ x ‘Cheerful Chipmunk’ cross produces. Wow, again, and thanks, Tom Waters — you’re awesome!
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| Shipment of iris seeds photo by Grahame Ware |
f) But I wasn’t finished with my Year of the Iris Binge. Just this month, I couldn’t resist being a part of the Society for Siberian Iris because (you’re not going to believe it but…) I heard that they too were going to have a seed exchange with many of the top hybridizers providing seeds of their top irises and new crosses as well. I know! I went weak in the knees and transferred by osmosis or some other mysterious energy .to my hands. Somehow, I was clicking away with my mouse and a PayPal thing.
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| Bare root iris rhizomes waiting for replant photo by Grahame Ware |
So know this dear reader: you too can let your iris fire blaze away and not worry— just smile— because it won't burn down any forest or house— just singe your pocketbook ever so slightly.
“It is”, as the saying goes, “but a mere pittance.”
