Pretty pictures: Iris cvv.

So last year, as you'll remember, I got two stalks of Iris flowers, on the NOID blue-purple plants, and that was it. No other blooms, no other colors.

It's looking like that was mostly due to 2011's drought, because this year I got blooms on all the Irises except for the NOID blue-purple one.

(N.b. before we launch into the pictures: I request that the reader pay no attention to the dandelions and other weeds in the background. Or if you must notice them, at least don't judge us for them. Not that we don't deserve the judgment. I'd just rather you didn't, is all.)


'Reincarnation:'

'Reincarnation' bloomed last fall as well (it's a rebloomer), but I apparently didn't blog about that even though I took the pictures. Go figure.


'Shelley Elizabeth:'

'Shelley Elizabeth' previously: 2012


'Frivolous:'

I'm not sure I was aware, prior to hearing about 'Frivolous,' that yellow irises could be bright dandelion yellow, as opposed to pastel gender-neutral-nursery yellow. But they can. Oh, how they can.


All three varieties were gifts from Ginny Burton. (So was the NOID blue-purple that didn't bloom, as far as that goes.)


Bonus unidentified irises that aren't mine:

Spotted here in town. There was also a completely unreal number of orange poppies¹ in this yard, which may or may not get a separate blog post later.

This purple and white combo from the University of Iowa Hospital would have been much more impressive if I had been able to capture the whole planting at once. There were other priorities that day, though,² so the above are the only two shots I attempted.

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¹ Having trouble with subject-verb agreement here. Is it "was . . . a number" or "were . . . orange poppies?" I'm about 75% sure it's the former, but somehow both sound wrong. Maybe I still have enough of a cold that it's impairing my grammar. (Evidence in favor of this theory: in the previous sentence, I wasn't sure whether it should read "enough of a cold to affect my grammar" or "enough of a cold to effect my grammar," so I reworded it to get around the question. Though affect is right, isn't it?)
² Neither I nor my husband were the patient, and we're both fine as far as we know. The explanation for what we were doing there is long and complicated, has an unclear diagnosis and an ambiguous prognosis, and isn't something I feel like sharing with the whole internet, so that's all the explanation you get.

Question for the Hive Mind: Iris cvv.

Three or four weeks ago, I was talking to my Dad on the phone, and he mentioned that the Irises where he and Mom live (fairly close, south of us) had buds on them already, and that they were sufficiently developed that you could tell what color the flowers were going to be.

We didn't have any Iris buds at that point, but about a week after that conversation, I saw a couple stalks were forming.

Whew. What a relief. They're going to bloom after all.

And they did:

Iris NOID blue-violet, 2013.
And then it was over. Two flower stalks, with three or four flowers apiece, both from the NOID blue variety. Nothing from 'Shelly Elizabeth.' The end.

I had been anticipating, you know, more, so I looked for information on-line about non-blooming Irises, and came up with this page at Garden Web, which lists several thousand possible reasons why Iris might decline to bloom, few of which seem to apply in my particular case:

Not adequately established -- well, they were established enough to bloom last year.

Iris 'Shelly Elizabeth,' 2012.
Inadequate sun -- again, it was enough last year, so it couldn't be that they're planted in a part of the yard that doesn't get enough sun. However, it's plausible that the town in general didn't get enough sun this year; the state of Iowa has had its wettest spring in 141 years of recorded history this spring. We even have mushrooms growing all over the yard:

A representative sample of the back yard. Seriously, it's all like this.
So it's probably been unusually cloudy, too. Neither the husband nor I recall seeing a normal number of Irises around town, but it's not really something we have a great sense of in the first place, and we didn't know it was going to be important to keep track, so that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Nutrient deficiencies -- doubtful; this is only the second year they've been growing in this spot, and the soil contains a lot of compost.

Inappropriate watering -- see above re: wettest spring in 141 years. Though last summer was a significant drought, too, with the lawn cracking and stuff, so if blooms are strongly related to watering from the previous summer and fall, maybe.

Planted too deeply -- don't think the planting depth has changed since last year; we certainly haven't added any soil. They did have some oak and maple leaves on them during the winter, because leaves just accumulate there. I don't recall making a point of removing them (though the husband might have), so this is sort of plausible, depending on how much mulch counts as deep planting.

Overcrowding -- I have no reference points for how close Iris rhizomes should be, so you tell me:

It should probably be noted that the more isolated rhizomes aren't blooming either (though they could still be a little crowded, just not so much by one another):

Weeds -- not among the Irises; there's no room. Everywhere else, sure.

Ill health -- doubtful. If anything, it seems like there are more and bigger leaves this year than previously. True, lots of them are also weirdly sickle-shaped, but they don't seem ill.

Late freezes -- I couldn't tell you for sure. We did have some temperatures near-freezing in early May, but I don't think we were forecast to have an actual freeze. And I'm not sure about earlier than that. Could this cause the sickle-shaped leaves?

Immature rhizome -- nope. Lots of blooms last year.

Irregular bloomer -- I wouldn't necessarily know, I suppose. They bloomed last year. Didn't in 2011 (though they sort of tried). Freshly-divided and immature in 2010.

So . . . is anything jumping out at anybody as being the obvious problem? (Ideally something that's easily fixed?)

[Exceptionally] Pretty pictures: transmitted light -- Part XLIX

Goodness. It's been so long since I did a transmitted light post that I don't even remember how I'm supposed to do them.

Actually no, that's not true. It's only been like five months. But it'd been nine months before that. I'm definitely a little rusty.

(The previous transmitted light posts can be found here.)

Schlumbergera truncata NOID, phylloclade. Though Schlumbergeras are not quite as abundant in the house as the Anthuriums, they've getting there. The most recent stats for the collection: 959 plants total, 198 Anthurium seedlings (21% of total), 116 Schlumbergera seedlings (12%). None of this changes the fact that they make lousy transmitted light subjects.

Philodendron [erubescens?] 'Golden Emerald.' I don't know what the deal is with this one; it never seems to photograph as bright and saturated as it actually is. It's really much prettier than this in person.

Brassolaeliocattleya Helen Brown. Probably by now it's not Brassolaeliocattleya anymore, but who has time to keep track of these things.

Iris ensata variegata. I have no memory of seeing a variegated Iris of any kind, anywhere. I mean, I know they exist; it's just that this photo is the only evidence I have that I've ever seen one. I didn't even take a photo of the whole plant, so there's no context for this picture. It's a weird feeling.

Salvia elegans. On Sunday, I semi-accidentally wound up looking at some of the pictures of the Salvia elegans we planted in the yard a couple years ago, when it was huge and in full bloom, and: I'm afraid we're just going to have to do that again. Even though I no longer seem to be capable of overwintering them. (Probably the basement is too warm now, what with all the lights.)

Callisia repens.

Tradescantia zebrina. I didn't actually intend for this to wind up next to the Callisia, but it's an interesting comparison, since they have a nearly identical growth habit.

Caladium NOID. Not one of my best Caladium pictures, but with Caladiums, even a bad picture is still okay.

Quercus sp., autumn.

Stromanthe sanguinea 'Triostar.'

Pretty pictures: Iris cvv.

. . . On the other hand, the outdoor-gardening news here is not entirely about Oenothera seedlings. (However much it may feel that way at times.) Some of the news is even good.

The husband and I have actually made garden-related plans, this year. As in, we chose a certain number of plants to grow, and then planted them. Whether this is going to work out for us is still unclear, but it seems like it has to be a step in the right direction. I've heard about people doing this before. If other people have done it, it's probably how you're supposed to do it. (Right?)

So now we have a raised bed along the fence on the north side of our yard, with a row of Cannas planted next to the fence, Irises on the west end, and strawberries on the east. In the middle section there is lettuce and spinach, which I'm not actually sure about this, because I have very little sense of how they work, and because we started them as plugs instead of direct-sowing in the ground like the package says because the husband insists on using landscaping fabric in the garden even though I told him we should just direct-sow like the package said.¹

And we're probably not going to get any strawberries this year, because the plants there were all relocated from the north side of the garage, one batch in the fall (which mostly didn't survive) and then one batch in the spring (which mostly did), and they're all seeming a bit traumatized still.

But I'd said there was good news, and the above is neither. The good news is that the Irises are blooming!

Iris 'Shelley Elizabeth.'
I got them in 2010 from Ginny Burton, where they spent their first year buried under Salvia elegans bushes. The second year went better -- I even got one bud -- but then it was separated from the plant under mysterious circumstances, and none of the plants attempted a second bud.

But this year, finally, they're actually blooming, and it's great.

Iris NOID.
Naturally, now I want more of them,² though I think these two complement one another so well that if I do start looking around for more Irises, it'll be to plant in a separate area, not to combine with these two.

Both of them together, plus Sheba and cilantro seedlings as a bonus. Also weeds, but you'll ignore those for me if I ask nicely, right?
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¹ Back me up here, people.
² Which is most gardeners' standard response to most plant-related successes; I realize I'm not blazing uncharted new territories in gardening-related emotions.

Pretty pictures: Iris cvv.

Not a lot to be said here; these are mostly your ordinary Irises, from around town and a couple from the ex-job. I've seen some really impressive beds of Iris this year; I don't know if they're having an unusually good year or if I'm just noticing them more.

There wasn't any ID on this except for something like "Red German Iris."

Early dwarf type. I think. It was at least early. And it was short. Short means dwarf, right?

Iris 'Batik.' I like this one a lot.
We actually had an Iris at the house bud this year. I got some rhizomes last year from a reader who may or may not wish to identify him/rself, and they survived being covered by enormous Salvia elegans bushes (an accident; I didn't think the Salvia would get that big) and came back this spring, which was already better news than I was expecting, but then to have a bud on top of that was even more exciting.


Then one morning I went out to check its progress and the decapitated bud was lying on the ground next to the plant. I have no idea what happened; the end of the stem looked more chewed than cut, snapped, or twisted off, but I don't know what would want to eat enough of an Iris to take the one developing bud off but not want to finish the stem once it'd been started. (Rabbits? Squirrels?) Anyway. I brought it inside, recut the stem, and stuck it in a glass of water, hoping it might open anyway, but it didn't. And that's all the Iris news I get for this year, apparently, because the other plants didn't even try to bud.

Understandably, though. I mean, after seeing what happened to the plant who did try to bloom, I'd be keeping my buds to myself too.

[Exceptionally] Pretty pictures: transmitted light -- Part XXXIII

Transmitted Light Week continues!

I think I may be self-sabotaging: on yesterday's walk with Sheba, I wound up collecting several dead leaves. Brought them home, and then spent half an hour or so taping them to the kitchen window, getting pictures, and pulling them down. I think I probably got enough photos yesterday that I technically lost ground. (I may have gone a little nuts with the oaks.) But oh well. I'll still be ahead for the week.

(The previous transmitted light posts can be found here.)

Iris cv. There seems to be some kind of mathematical pattern to how lit up the different veins are, but I can't quite figure out what it is.

Rheum sp. Whatever. A lot of transmitted light photos wind up looking like this.

Acer platanoides key, red cv. This seemed like a good idea at the time, though now that I look at it again, six months later, I'm not sure I like it. In person, it was very pretty, though. I guess the camera didn't capture what I was hoping to capture.

Philodendron bipinnatifidum (?) 'Spicy Dog.' From the venation, I think it probably is either P. bipinnatifidum or a hybrid of something with P. bipinnatifidum: it looks very much the same, except that P. bipinnatifidum's leaves are more deeply split. The plant is growing fine for me inside, though it's getting to the point where I think I'm going to have to find it another spot already: it's gotten big fast.

Iresine herbstii 'Blazin' Rose.' I like this photo better than the Iresine picture from Sunday.

Unknown Spiraea cv. I wouldn't have had any idea on the ID for this plant had it not been flowering when I took the picture. Very pleased with how it turned out: this is probably my favorite from the batch.

Solenostemon scutellarioides 'Tilt a Whirl.' I'm surprised at how similar this is to the last 'Tilt a Whirl' picture I took, a long time ago.

Liriodendron tulipifera. The full-size photo is nice. I was really excited about tulip trees this spring, when they were blooming, and even though we don't actually want to plant a lot of trees in back ('cause I want whatever sunlight we can get for the plants inside; it's bad enough having the maple out there blocking a lot of the afternoon light), I thought about trying to get one of these. Then I found out they get to be 120 feet tall (eventually) and have a tendency to fall apart in high winds, and I gave up on that plan.

Heuchera 'Green Spice.' I feel like I ought to like this one better than I do. I mean, the texture is interesting, it's in focus, there are interesting shapes. I think I must be having trouble with the color combination. Not a big fan of mustard yellow and brown.

Schlumbergera 'Caribbean Dancer,' petal. Probably Schlumbergera petals are too small to do this effectively, but at last it's a nice, bright color.

Pretty pictures: Iris germanica cvv.

I intended to post something a bit more involved today than just some Iris pictures, but yesterday was by turns frustrating, anxiety-inducing, and miserable, so you will have to accept these as the best I can do for the moment.


What happened yesterday involves canine diarrhea and is probably best not described in detail, but I didn't get a normal amount of sleep as a result, and then had to spend most of the day on Monday watching Sheba and taking her out every couple hours, just in case. As I write, on Monday afternoon, it all appears to be over, or at least winding down, and she's never thrown up or looked like she was becoming dehydrated or anything, so I guess everything is okay. But, it's also not how I'd planned to spend my Monday, or how I'd want to spend a Monday ever again. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe we shouldn't just bring her in and have them build her a new digestive system. Maybe a gas-electric hybrid. I hear those are hot now.

On the plus side, there was no vomiting. So . . . we're making progress? I think?


I was already not feeling so hot myself (as mentioned in Sunday's post, I've been feeling really tired and creaky for no discernable reason, the last few days), which missing sleep didn't help, and then I remembered late in the afternoon that I was supposed to have a box of plants arriving in the mail today (plant trade), so I hurried to the post office to get it, and there was a card in the box like they put in there when there's a package waiting, but when I went to the window to pick it up, I was told there wasn't one, or maybe there was one but it wasn't obvious where it was, and the person who would know wasn't around, and possibly had hidden it somewhere, and of course it was also possible that there was never a box in the first place, despite the card, so just come back on Tuesday and maybe there would be a box then. Or maybe there wouldn't!


So basically the Post Office is trying to gaslight me,¹ as if they're not screwing with me enough by refusing to deliver mail to my home like a normal post office would do.

Therefore, Iris pictures.

I'm really fond of that last pink-orange one, incidentally. It's ickily close to Caucasian flesh-color, which I normally really dislike in flowers, but on this particular Iris, it kind of works.

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¹ (Gaslight is a stunningly handy verb. Even if you're not paranoid, you'd be surprised how many times the situation comes up. The only disadvantage is that successful communication requires the listener to be familiar with the movie, or else the speaker has to have time to explain the word. I'm hoping that if I use it enough, people will become familiar enough with it that I won't have to explain or link to Wikipedia every time.)

Pretty pictures: Tulipa cvv. flowers

So I was all excited when I got up last Friday, because the next round of watering didn't start until Sunday (today), and I didn't have to buy anything, there were no repotting emergencies or pest emergencies to deal with, I had a ton of pictures already uploaded which could be used for blog fodder, the weather was forecast to be rain so I wouldn't have to walk Sheba -- in short, there was absolutely nothing standing between me and two days spent cranking out post after post after post for the blog.

But then the camera, or its memory card, or the card reader, stopped working, so I spent half of Friday and a good chunk of yesterday preoccupied with either trying to fix that or replace the camera. Which is of course very frustrating.¹

None of this has anything to do with the tulip pictures I promised in the title; it's just annoying and I wanted to complain about it to someone, and the husband has already heard the complaining so I couldn't complain to him about it again, and you didn't click or scroll away soon enough, so now you're stuck knowing about it.

But there are indeed tulips, including what I believe is the awesomest tulip I've ever seen in my life. So.

Keep in mind that all of these will open much larger in a new window, if you want to see detail:


I feel kind of weird, skulking around taking pictures of people's tulips like this. I hope it's at least obvious that that's all I'm doing. I'm sure I've been watched through a window more than once, by this point. But some of the pictures I get are worth it.



This one isn't that great of a flower, and there's a weird spot of something orangish on it that I didn't notice when I was taking the photo and can't identify, but I thought it was worth including anyway because the color and shape looked (to me) very much like a heart. Actually, now that I look, it's sort of right in between a cartoon Valentines heart and an actual, gross, meat-based heart. Hmmm.



Not the most elaborate bloom, but the picture turned out really nicely. I enjoy the color.



This one too, as far as it goes.



This looks more similar to the first photo than it actually was; the color on the first picture was a lot more pink and light yellow, and this one is a lot more red and yellow.

And then, the neatest tulip I think I've ever seen:



I can't really explain the appeal, I'm afraid, so if you don't get it, sorry to have disappointed you. It's just a color combination I've never seen before, and I like it. A lot.



The photos only sort of do it justice: the flowers are in dappled shade at the time of day when this was taken, which means the light levels are weird. But still, that's not a bad photo.



And, just because you were so nice, and read the camera-related whining, here's a bonus Iris, which I also deeply covet:



This may well be the first Iris I've liked enough to covet: Evil Grandma was big into Iris, and actually did some crosses of her own and stuff. She won a local Iris show one year, even. I've never hated them, exactly, but the association with her was sort of off-putting: this is the first one that made me stop and say wow in a very long time.



As with the special Tulip, the color combination is a lot of the appeal. I would never have thought to put those particular colors together in anything, much less expected that they would look cool. And yet.

UPDATED last night rather than rewrite the whole post:

I wound up buying a new camera at Target yesterday afternoon; it's an Olympus FE-4020, and charging up the battery took so much time that I have not yet tried taking any pictures with it, so I don't know whether I'm happy with it or not.

Buying electronics is a pain. I didn't like the process, and I didn't feel better when it was done. Normally if I spend that much money, I'm happier when it's done. And also usually I have a bunch of new plants.

Either the new camera will be so much better than the old one that the pictures will get noticeably better now, or having to start over on the learning curve for a new camera means much worse pictures for a little while. It will probably be one or the other. We'll know which in a week or two.

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¹ As I write this, it's early Saturday morning, and I don't know whether I'll be able to find a new camera I can afford in town or not. But just for the record, I'm not unhappy with the one I was using, exactly. It was an Olympus FE-170, which I got at Sears for $30 because it was an old floor display model. So it was already at least a year old when I bought it, it cost practically nothing, I had it for 2 1/2 years, got it wet frequently, and it still took almost 25,000 pictures in that time.
It's never worked exactly like it was supposed to: I've pretty much never been able to use the zoom (it'd let me zoom in with the viewfinder, but for more than a year now, if I press the button to take a picture with the zoom on, the camera will shut itself off instead), turning off the flash has become more and more of a hassle with time as the button responsible for doing this has gotten less and less sensitive (to the point where now I have to mash on it as hard as possible ten to fifteen times before one of them will take), and the lens turret stopped automatically retracting properly when I shut the camera off, so now the camera will only shut off when I press the turret in gently at the right moment (otherwise it'll sit there extending and retracting for a minute or so). But considering the price, it seems silly to complain about these things.