Salome

This daffodil 'Salome' has been one of my all-time favorites. The color and gradual change as it matures is incredible, starting out with light yellow cups turning to a soft peach; all within a mostly white backdrop.

But of course since it is one of the favorites, it can't possibly easily multiply like lesser-loved cultivars do. I've tried everything: moving it around to different locations in the gardens in the hopes that I will hit upon the best growing conditions. It's current location is a "plant it and forget it" location on the south side of the house. This bed is somewhat protected from the nasty northern winter winds, and on a slightly sloping ground to mitigate the feared wet soil fungii and water molds attacking the bulbs. Didn't help. Today I still have about the same number of bulbs as I planted several years ago.

Looks like I might be resigned to opening the wallet to bring in some brothers and sisters to keep these company next year.

Hellebores Ain't Not Bores

After a few years of organizing plant swaps in my neighborhood where six or seven people would show up with typical plants, my master gardener group began hosting a swap in the spring with attendance of 30 or so. One of the plants I picked up last year was a hellebores.

I did not have any hellebores, but I had shade. The plant went into a nice mucky clay shady spot and did not grow for the entire year. The leaves stayed green -- that's always a good sign. I had some high hopes this spring, and am happy to report some blooms.

However, there appear to be two different plants growing together, producing different blooms. It's not unlike one of those grafted novelties like the half pink and half white dogwood in the yard a few houses down the street, or a good friends half-breed crape myrtle -- half pink and half purple. Novelties? Maybe man-made freaks is a better word. I must have two plants intertwined.

During the spring, some new foliage shoots popped up above the half baked dark green leaves of yesteryear. Blooming began two weeks ago, and I am rewarded with some hellebores surprises. These are are probably not surprises to anyone that grows them.

First, all the blooms do not pop out at the same time. It's nice to see a succession of blooms from a spring perennial, unlike a daffodil's or tulip's "Here I am and then I'm gone." Today there are two more new buds coming out.

Second, the blooms actually change color as they age. The magenta blossoms get more dull and darker and the creamy ones go green.

Third, the magenta blossoms are more upright while the cream colored ones face more downward making them difficult to appreciate (and photograph.) No worries -- the neighbors are now used to seeing my on my stomach and back with my camera. They hardly take notice any more.

I am pleased with my new additions, even though I do not know their cultivar names. I will need to separate them after blooming, and look forward to two patches of low evergreen ground cover in the shady back.

How Green My Garden

Very green, with a record 16 days straight of measurable rainfall in May. Cool temperatures, too. You'd think I woke up in the Pacific northwest! I often write about how dead the garden is at this time of year, and the paucity of blooms for May Bloom Day proves it. Even some readers posted comments suggesting I could do better in May -- especially gardening in Virginia.

But spring bulbs and blooms are gone, and the perennials lie in wait. The front cottage garden has never looked so ... green. Everyone is having a grand old time except the peppers.

It is interesting that with a month of more-than-ample rainfall and cool temperatures, annual poppies have taken over. Never before have they invaded my cottage garden, the sidewalk garden, the front bed, the side garden. They are even sprouting up in the cracks of the driveway and sidewalk.

The front cottage garden gets ready. Buds on the liatris, echinacea, and daylily. Look carefully to also see the dying hyacinth leaves, garlic, walking onions, radishes, volunteer dill, pepperoncini, rudbeckia, physostegia, nicotiana, aster, beginning cleome, poppies, and daffodil leaves. One exceptional spot of color is provided by the 'Tiger Eyes' marigold started from seed. What little grass I have needs mowing.

The sloping side garden provided the color on Bloom Day: a few iris, geranium, and coreopsis remain. Phlox is getting ready to burst, and waiting are solidago, daylily, stokesia, russian sage, penstemon, lychnis, more poppies, lily, more rudbeckia, kniphophia, peony, monadra, onions, eschscholzia, opuntia, and echinops.

The backyard has seen the magnolia, dogwood, virbirnum, ajuga, polygonatum, camassia, rhododendron, and azalea all come and go. Waiting are seven hostas, astilbe, hypericum, hydrangea, buddleia, daylily, and native lysimachia. The Autumn fern has begun new shoots to replace the ones flattened this winter. Oh wait! Is that tradescantia starting to flower? Did I mention the grass needs mowing?

Just wait until June's Bloom Day.

Leap Year

Sleep
The woodland phlox (Phlox divaricata) was purchased at the annual spring garden sale at the local botanical garden, Green Spring. I do like to grow natives and feel a bit of guilt because I do not exclusively limit my garden to them. This one was sold in the native plant vendor section. It did not have much of a label, except for "Woodland Phlox".

My newfound native came with a small cluster of flowers on a thin but upright stalk. It was planted in a lightly shaded bed with shade compatriots tradescantia, hosta, and astilbe and hydrangea, in the forefront front of them all. The internet says to expect a height of 12-inches (30 cm). The plant stopped blooming in summer and did not do anything for the rest of the year. Early morning sun bathed the area, but for most of the day it received dappled shade under an ever increasing neighbor's maple tree to the south.

Creep
Last year, it started to spread. There was an upright section that produced clusters of spring blooms, and a horizontal section that spread out flat to the ground. But it did have several flower stalks clustered together, indicating that it was growing.

It survived that nasty winter. Natives can survive beasts and weather in the wild, but sometimes do not survive me.

Leap
All those horizontal sections running along the surface of the ground last year produced dozens of flower stalks this year. The result is a mound of light blue, slightly fragrant flower clusters. If memory serves me, I was able to enjoy these flowers for over a month.

This wildflower phlox is native to woodlands of the eastern United States, north from Quebec, south to Texas. Yes, I know Quebec is Canada. Woodland phlox likes moist, fertile, loose soil. I have one out of three with my Virginia clay -- moist clay.

Common cultivars are 'Blue Moon' most resembling my plant, and 'Clouds of Perfume.' The flowers have nectar in the base of the long tubes, so insects need long tongues to get to it. Butterflies and hummingbirds are supposed like them best. I like them second best. They bloom at a place in the yard where hydrangea, hosta, and astilbe are still getting ready for their show to come later.

For The Record:   • Heavy clay soil with mulch and organic amendments   • Mostly shade   • Very little fertilizer   • No serious pests/disease Garden Calendar:   • Blooming: azalea, viburnum, dutch iris, coreopsis

April 2016 Bloom Day

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day
What's blooming in the garden on the 15th of the month

Leave the office early on a sunny Friday afternoon. Rush home to beat the rush hour traffic. Test out the new nuclear powered camera for the first time on the blog. See what's in the zone 7a garden.

I still have the simple rustic Canon Elph that I used for nine years -- for all blog photos up to now -- except for a few iPad and iPhone photos. But the new Canon T5i, well, there are as many settings as the space shuttle. Let's try figuring this contraption out to get closer than the old camera did. One photo was taken with a lens attachment that did not produce a clear image. Put that attachment in the closet or sell it.

My, I have a lot of white photos. I just realized that after looking at what I shot this afternoon. But the white is not all in one place except on my blog. The sun is setting, on another Bloom Day.

Maybe a new camera will help me take photos like A Tidewater Gardener, you think? Nah, no way.

Cornus florida

Azalea 'Snow'

Spirea prunifolia (Bridal Wreath)

Viburnum plicatum f. tomentosum 'Shasta'
Looking better now -- years after I severely pruned it and almost lost it

Pieris japonica cultivar

Phlox divaricata -- this is its third year and its leaping!

Tulip 'Princess Irene' not looking good in its second year

Narcissus poeticus -- the late fragrant daffodil even the ant appreciates

For other garden bloggers bloom day photos, check out our host at blog May Dreams Gardens.

Spring Survivor or Rescue Plant?

As mentioned in a few past posts, I discovered a few landscape plants that peppered the yard when I bought this house back in 1986. Most were of a poor quality: roses that had little form or fragrance, smallish bearded iris with no discerning form and washed-out color, flowering crabapple with few flowers. Maybe these things were big on the market back when the house was built in the mid 1950s. One of these leftovers is the species crocus in the photo.

These crocuses were growing along the east-facing foundation in the back of the house back in the day. They had a concrete air conditioner pad covering some. The air conditioner was eventually moved. They were growing in a crowded clump from years of neglect. They were eventually divided. Then, I built a deck above them eight years ago, and they never saw direct sunlight again.

Two years ago after not blooming (gee, I wonder why), they were dug up, and the largest corms were thrown into a sunnier spot on my hillside garden. They were forgotten with no more thought.

With a little warm weather to end February this year, they sprang to life. They surprised me -- was that lavender color along the walk a piece of trash that blew in?

I now remember moving them and hoping they would come back. I like the species more than the hybrids because of their earlier arrival, their willingness to multiply, and their apparent tenacity. I am looking forward to a growing population and will certainly give them more care. They've earned it.

May 2015 Bloom Day

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day
What's blooming in the garden on the 15th of the month

Projects (including working in the garden,) have been taking time away from blogging this spring.

Nothing much on this bloom day, my 16th since blogging. Bearded iris galore, but you've seen them last year. May is a dead time in my garden before most impressive perennials get going and after the spring bulbs. So I tried for some smaller closeups, but need to get a new camera - this pocket Cannon Elph I used for all my photos over the past 12 years is beginning to show age with less and less clarity.

Kalmia latifolia 'Sarah' is "one of the reddest mountain laurels" according to the catalog.
This is one of the first plants I bought years ago after moving into my house.

Iris hollandica 'Discovery'. I divided one clump last fall into three this spring.
They are not as impressive (spread apart), but maybe next year...

Add unknown geranium sanguineum. Spreads like crazy, blooming intermittently throughout summer.

Geranium macrorrhizum 'Bevan's variety'

Camassia leichtlinii never takes a bad picture

Couldn't resist adding an annual I really like this year - petunia 'Phantom'

For other garden bloggers' bloom day photos, spring over to the blog May Dreams Gardens.

My Tulips Smell

Being in an area that goes from winter to summer in a two weeks, growing tulips is a challenge. In about the span of one week, they open, bloom, and get fried to a crisp. In subsequent years, whether left in the ground or lifted in the spring and replanted in the fall, they are a big disappointment. So like an addict, I try to stay clean of spending money on tulips.

Every so often in the fall, photos on the tulip packages in the local nurseries (along with a discounted price) tempt me to a point of giving in. And after they bloom one year, my tulip has-beens proudly produce big leaves year after year, but no more blooms. Oh, every other year of so, one might pop out a bloom before going back to growing leaves.

In some years, I fertilize them up the wahzoo and water them frequently. But the weather sears them quickly before they have a chance to develop enough to bloom the following year. And this year we have Princess Irene tulips, the result of my latest willpower breakdown last autumn. They have bloomed now for over a week, probably because of our unusually cool spring.

This week, as I walked by, I noticed a slight fragrance. Only one other tulip I grew, West Point, had a sweet smell. Princess Irene was trying to make me feel good about spending my money on a one time, one-week fling. Lasting longer than normal this year was also a plus.

Also blooming at this mid-spring point in time are a few other tall Darwin hybrids from past years. One pink (Menton) by itself, one yellow (Yellow Dover) by itself, and one red (Red Apeldoorn) by itself. Orange Princess Irene is shorter, sweet smelling, and streaked with maroon on the outer orange petals, like recently graduating from Virginia Tech. Its leaves have a strong blue tint that contrasts with the orange.

After my lonely, homeless tulips are spent for the spring, I will dig them up and mix them together into one multicolored bed. In future years, I will look for three or four pops of miscellaneous color in a bounty of leaves, rather than one red here, one yellow there, and one pink somewhere.

Garden Goddess Iris

The bearded iris (Iris germanica) are now the queens of the garden. This is the 'dead zone' time of year between perennials and spring bulbs when very little is going on. In May, the bearded iris shine above all else.

Iris comes from the Greek word for rainbow. In Greek mythology, the goddess Iris of the rainbow bore messages between the heavens and the earth. And iris are found in almost every color of the rainbow, but true red has eluded the growers. There are about 300 species of iris native to every continent in the temperate northern hemisphere, but are most prevalent in Europe and the Mediterranean. Because they are easy to cross and breed, there are about 40,000 introduced iris varieties.

The iris has six petals on its flower, although it appears to have three similar ones. It is a great example of a plant developed for pollinators, with a landing pad for flying insects. The entering insect hits the stigma first, depositing its pollen if any. Then, "backing out of the flower" it comes into contact with the plant's pollen, (after contacting the stigma) and can take it to the next flower. I don't think pollinators actually follow these rules someone thought up -- they just barge in and grab any pollen they can.

Iris have a place in human history. They have been around for centuries, and their symbols appear in ancient Egyptian tombs. The French Crusades brought them back to Europe from Syria, and they were adopted as the famous symbol of the French monarch, the Fleur-de-lis.

Frank Adams

Clarence

The Orris root (bearded iris rhizomes) were used for perfumes starting with the Egyptians, who burned them to create scent offerings to the gods. Clothes were boiled with iris rhizomes to perfume undergarments to mask body odors from at least the 1400s. Bathing was considered unhealthy.

Two of my iris have partial shade during the day but are doing very well. "How-to" articles say they do best in full sun and well drained soil. Their maintenance list includes dividing about every three years, more than some of my other perennials, and most of my friends run away now when they see me coming with bags of rhizomes. (If you want any Fantasy Land, drop me a line.) They don't make a good cut flower with each bloom lasting a day or two, and some stink.

Invitation

Fantasy Land

The Historic Iris Preservation Society aims to preserve old iris varieties, and has a huge collection of reference materials to identify and track down old varieties. Some varieties documented in old documents are thought to be lost, however, people believe they still exist in someone's garden somewhere and will be found.

The history of the American Iris Society is fascinating (to plant geeks and history buffs.) It was founded around 1920 because of confusion (and probably deceit) about varieties -- companies selling varieties after renaming them, developing varieties that someone else did, not documenting parentage.

Quaker Lady

In doing the research for this blog post, I believe the identities of the unnamed bearded iris in my yard are now found. Thank you HIPS for your online photo gallery. I swear all iris in the world are here in one gallery or another.

Frank Adams is the spitting image of the one I got at a neighborhood plant swap. It is the tallest, broadest (taking up the most space) and very prolific.

Quaker Lady, growing in the yard when the house was purchased, is certainly an older variety. It is short with smallish flowers and petals that slant outward.

Fantasy Land seems like a match to what I was calling Grape Nehi, although there are no sources on the internet where I can verify this one. It is most prolific and is found in several yards throughout the neighborhood.

Clarence was purchased at Walmart a few years ago - after seeing it in an iris catalog.

Invitation was a gift from the landscape architects who hate bicolor iris, and has stalks that always need to be staked.

Garden Calendar:   • Blooming: azalea, rhododendron, ajuga, wood phlox, iris, allium, salvia

The Deadbud And Friends

The winter damage to the garden is now coming into focus. The Chinese Redbud (Cercis chinensis) is now a 'red dud.' This is the most difficult loss. About fifteen years ago, I received a handful of Chinese Redbud seeds from the National Arboretum, as did other volunteers there. One the arboretum's heads went on a plant gathering expedition to China and came back with some material.

Pineapple Sage

Three of the seeds germinated. One was ripped up the following year, being mistaken for a weed. Another was probably run over by a mower. The third survivor, however, did not grow much over the years.

Three years ago, I made a real effort to improve its soil and encourage its growth and development. It responded, growing new branches and reaching about 7 feet tall (2m) last year. Every spring I looked forward to seeing it bloom, and every year I was disappointed. Just one more year of growth I thought.

I was excited this year again, but the buds on it swelled and then dried up. The branches and twigs are now dry and easily snap. Fifteen years of coddling, a tree planted from seed, and now it's all gone before blooming. I am hoping for some resurrection at its base if the roots are good, but so far there is nothing.

Cardoon?

Winter Damage Update
Totally unexpected, the pineapple sage is coming back to life. New shoots are appearing from the dead sticks; who can mistake that chartreuse color?

Rosemary has some tiny seedlings arrayed around the dead trunk. They are too small to identify as weed or foe, but will be watched as they mature in hopes that rosemary will rise again.

A surprise death is the cardoon. It grew throughout the winter as usual, but a spring thaw followed by a severe refreeze did it in. The stems turned to mush as a rot set in. There are some seedlings appearing near the old plants that again are unfamiliar. They could be weeds or could be cardoon seedings, which reportedly are somewhat invasive. Invasive would be nice this year.

California poppy seedling

Finally, the California poppies (Eschscholzia californica) are popping. Freely seeding themselves, maybe they will bloom by fall. The original plants have disintegrated this past winter.

For The Record:   • Blooming: Azaleas, allium, wood phlox, salvia

Wood Phlox Comes To Life

This is the newest rookie perennial in the garden. There was this plant sale at a local historic house museum last spring; who can resist a tent full of plants for sale, especially if they are for a good cause. (I don't remember the cause, but did purchase a plant.)

The wood phlox (Phlox divaricata) came in a 2-inch pot (5 cm) and was planted in a mostly shady spot. It was sold to me as a shade variety of the creeping phlox without as many blooms, and as a native.

The phlox did not do much all of last year after I assured it that I will care for it. But this spring it sprung forth a burst of new growth and is blooming. Note, it is not similar to the creeping phlox.

Flowers are larger, and more dispersed. The plant produces stems that are much more upright at about 10-inches in height (25 cm). These will probably turn into runners and spread. To me, wood phlox more accurately resembles an upright vinca minor. After reading that the flowers are fragrant, I had to shove my nose down to the ground and test this out. There is a slight fragrance.

The most impressive characteristic is its robust growth after being planted in heavy clay soil and after surviving Hell Winter. Although not covered with blossoms as thickly as the garden catalogs (what plant ever is,) it begins to fill in the front of a wide barren shady spot. And someone might even try some cuttings or divisions for another barren spot further down the yard that needs something to compliment the white dogwood, white azaleas, and white viburnum.

For The Record:   • New bed with heavy clay soil with some organic amendments   • Mostly light shade   • Small amount of fertilizer   • No serious pests/disease Garden Calendar:   • Blooming: Dogwood, midseason tulips, wood phlox, poet     daffodils, leucojum, muscari

Hyacinths Sliced And Diced

The hyacinths (Hyacinth orientalis) are in bloom, even ones that were hacked to pieces last year. I was digging in the dirt to make room for some pepper plants in the front cottage garden. A few good-looking vegetables are now planted in this garden, and last year bell pepper plants were being set down. The trowel blasted into a few white hyacinth bulbs below the surface that forgot to tell me where they were hiding.

The pieces were cleaned off and planted with hope they would multiply like a starfish, each piece growing anew. It worked! This year, all pieces grew, and they all had blooms, more or less. These are not Fine Gardening Magazine materials, but blooms nonetheless. White blooms came up from the remnants, although some only have three or four flowers in the cluster.

My other mistake was to plant some of the chunks on top of previously established tulips as well as previous planted blue Sky Jacket hyacinths. Anyone read the book, "Now Where Did I Plant Those?"

In past years, hyacinths forced inside were later planted outdoors. The following spring will

bring small blooms, but great blooms the year after. (Being toxic, they make a lovely addition to my poison garden.) So, the blue Sky Jacket hyacinths finished their blooms, and were planted in the front cottage garden. (Note, when forced indoors, the color is a lighter blue.) A month later, when hyacinth leaves had died down, it was pepper planting time. Does my spring bulb arrangement announce, "Drunken gardener lives here?" For The Record:   • Rich well-drained soil   • Full sun   • No fertilizer   • No serious pests/disease Garden Calendar:   • Blooming: hyacinth, magnolia, rhododendron mucronulatum,     Ice follies daffodils

Bombastic Poppies

My poppies are usually not big and loud, except for this year. These particular pink poppies are very unique to almost everyone who sees them, believing they are peonies. They grow and reseed each year at the back of my parent's garage in Johnson City NY (zone 5b). They came with the house, so no one knows anything about them.

Years ago, they were planted in my yard (zone 7a). The seeds are saved annually (although I don't know why since the poppies easily reseed themselves), planted in the fall, and in the spring pop up like poppies do. They have smooth solid leaves of a blue-green color like cabbage, and pink multi-petal blooms resembling shredded coleslaw. They are definitely poppies given the appearance of the seed pods, and given the manner in which they hang their heads until ready to bloom. After the internet came along, voila! - we now know they are: Bombast Rose Poppies (Papaver somniferum var. paeoniflorum).

They are essentially one of the opium poppies. (Fits well into my poison garden theme.) My advice for growing them: don't believe what you read on the internet about their cultivation. First, they should be planted in the fall and seem to prefer cool temperatures in spring - not very promising around here. Most all seeds planted in the spring turn into minuscule plants that get fried in the heat of late spring and summer.

Second, they hate to be transplanted, and never seem to recover from that shock. Third, they are anti-social plants - not liking crowded conditions. I find they seem to compete with each if close together. Fourth, they do not like heat. This last piece of advice relates to this year's crop.

In the past, a handful would grow to 3-feet tall (1 m) while others would remain midgets with almost no blooms. This year, there is the usual crop of midgets, but a few shot up to 4-feet (1.2 m) in height with gigantic blooms. The over-scaled plants began sprouting earlier than the others when weather was cooler. This may have given them a head start. When the weather changes a bit, the heat seems to toast their lower leaves, reducing the amount of food for the plant, my guess. We had a somewhat cool spring this year, so the plants with the head start really took off early while the others were affected by the heat as they began to grow.

For The Record:   • Rich well-drained amended soil   • Full sun   • Small amount of fertilizer   • No serious pests/disease   • No fragrance Garden Calendar:   • Blooming: pink poppies, nicotiana, coreopsis, salvia, california poppies, tradescantia, rose, cactus

The Bedbug Plant

Coreopsis never appealed to me in photos and descriptions that catalogs produced. I saw a bland plant, not stunning or capable of being a signature centerpiece or attractive border or backdrop. That changed a few years ago with the Autumn Blush coreopsis I bought and with one from our neighborhood plant swap.

Coreopsis seemed to be popping up everywhere in the 1990's as the latest fad; one to fulfill the persistent low-maintenance, drought-tolerant quest. I soon saw many new coreopsis on the market, and some appealed to me. I gave Autumn Blush a tryout [posted 2010.06.08]. Although taking its sweet old time to emerge every spring, it is attractive and reliably blooms all season. In that same year, a neighbor gave away this coreopsis at our plant swap. She purchased it (Coreopsis auriculata 'Nana') but found its cultural requirements were not what she expected, and gave it up. Lucky me.

It has spread and bloomed every year, even surviving a major relocation. No pests or diseases bother it. Well, maybe there's a little mildew in late autumn. What seems to set Nana apart is its thick carpet of dense green leaves and the way it holds its blooms. The glowing 1-inch (3 cm) orange blossoms are held above the dark foliage on very thin stems. This makes the blossoms appear to float above the leaf clump hugging the ground.

The orange flowers burst out in spring, tapering off through the summer. Maybe some deadheading would help that.

Coreopsis is also called tickseed. The name coreopsis derives from Greek meaning 'bedbug' - because the seed on spent flowers look like bedbugs? I don't think so on this plant - I am not letting dead blossoms linger this year so there are no photos of them.

For some reason, last year it threw up a healthy litter of leaves, but few flowers. I thought this might be due to overcrowding, and gave it a buzz cut last fall. That did the trick. Even though the 16 inch diameter (40 cm) clump still looks very thick, there are more blooms this year. Sometimes we need a little tough love.

For The Record:   • Clay soil improving with organic amendments   • Full sun   • No fertilizer   • No serious pests/disease   • Easily spreads Garden Calendar:   • Blooming: Bearded iris, coreopsis, salvia, tradescantia,     california poppy, rose

Iris Has Been Around The Block

This bearded iris (Iris germanica) gets around. Not like it's been sleeping with another, but it has had lots of offspring. It was a quick pickup up a few years ago at our neighborhood bar, or maybe it was a spring plant swap. Someone from the adjacent neighborhood brought it and has not attended since. Planted in the spring, it did bloom the following year.

I occasionally drive through that neighborhood and see two houses where this iris is flourishing in the front yard. I would guess one of those owners gave another some divisions in the past.

Being it is a very good hardy grower, I divided this one twice since, and gave away a few pieces to friends that live in that adjacent neighborhood - at another plant swap - so now it's found in three yards there. Last fall after my last division, I gave some to a neighbor on my street and see it blooming there now. Last week on my way to work, I spotted the same iris growing on another street in my neighborhood, along with some yellow iris. This is becoming an invasion.

Last spring, all bearded iris in the yard bloomed sparingly, and by end of spring, were beginning to die out. Iris borers were the culprits - larvae of an egg-laying moth - that tunneled through the root system, leaving them susceptible to rot. A few doses of nasties this spring at the right time kept them safe. One, my favorite, Clarence [2011.05.06], is going to bloom again, but the plants are small and hope is that they will grow back strong for next year.

I have come to love the color combination on this, even though I don't normally care for severely two tone bearded iris. The deep royal purple and light lavender top give me an urge to reach for a grape Nehi every time it blooms. Not knowing its name, it's the Grape Nehi iris to me. Apparently, there IS a Grape Iris out there, but not as grapey as this one.

I will be ready to give some more away next fall. Grape Nehis all around.