Wildest Dreams of Kew

Still the world is wondrous large,--seven seas from marge to marge,--And it holds a vast of various kinds of man; And the wildest dreams of Kew are the facts of Khatmandhu --Rudyard Kipling, In the Neolithic Age

Name: Atar

This has been an interesting life. I've learned a lot of lessons the hard way.

Monday, December 06, 2004

Iris unguicularis, the winter-blooming Iris

One of my favorite winter-blooming plants has been unlucky for me. I keep losing Iris unguicularis to unrelated mishaps, one after another. I had nice big clumps of it one year, and some renters carefully, systematically, dug every last rhizome out of the ground, having decided it was a weed. Another year, the division I bought never took. I think the growers were too optimistic about how viable their miserly starts were. It's not the plant's fault; actually it's pretty tough, if unlucky.

It does have at least one fault: the blossoms are perched on nothing but the ends of their floral tubes, like Crocus, leaving the flowers too close to the ground, especially compared to the leaves. When it is blooming well, there are enough of them to stand out even with the overhanging foliage.

The blossoms vary in color; I have had, and prefer, varieties with saturated bluish-purple blossoms. Some varieties have washed-out blossoms, and I don't want those. Anything that blooms in winter had better have colorful blossoms if I am to notice them. To help attract attention, they happen to be quite fragrant. The main component of their fragrance is the elusive scent of ionine, the same chemical as found in sweet violets. A peculiarity of this fragrance is that human noses can only smell it for a few seconds at a time; then our smell receptors desensitize to it.

The plant is surprisingly hardy; it has been known to survive on Long Island (USDA z7). The blossoms, however, are fairly delicate as winter-bloomers go; it's more likely to bloom in USDA zones 8 and 9. Frost does ruin them, but the plant will keep making more buds, so you get bursts of flowers in each winter mild spell, and then a brilliant finale by late winter or early spring. It's one of the showiest winter-blooming plants you can grow in a climate like Seattle's or London's, with flowers that are prettier and more coloful than those of most winterbloomers.

The leaves are leathery and evergreen, making nice clumps of strappy foliage.

Last year I bought another one. It didn't grow much this year but it is a little better-established and seems to be viable now. Wish me luck!

Oxalis comosa

I have some interesting bulbs planned for next year. I had to pot some of them up, because they weren't well established and their hardiness is in question.

One of these is Oxalis comosa. Unfortunately I don't have my own photos but you can look them up on the Internet (just follow the link). It has large blossoms out of scale with the small leaves, in tropical shades of yellow, salmon, and pink. Like many Oxalis, it is a native of South Africa, where the Mediterranean climate encourages many plants including this one to come up in the autumn, live over the mild and rainy winter, bloom generously in the spring, and do dormant during the dry summer.

Its going to live in a rock garden that turns hot and sunny in the summer. Its neighbors include a lot of southern-hemisphere natives, including a lot of fellow South Africans like Osteospermum barberae compactum, Diascia vigilis, and Agapanthus 'Stormcloud'. It should be one of the first to bloom, and once established the flower show should be quite good.