Sunday New York Times Article

>A Garden Shows Why 'Iris' Means Rainbow
>
>The New York Times		Sunday, June 8, 1997		Cuttings/Anne Raver
>
>The bearded irises are about at their peak at the Presby Memorial Iris
Gardens in Upper Montclair, NJ, and so are the Siberian irises, which stand
behind their fancier cousins in a gorgeous sea of deep, deep blue violet.
So maybe you missed Iris tectorum, which started blooming in mid-May,
spreading out its violet petals like the spokes of a wheel.  Do not worry,
there are more to come.  The beardless Louisianas are just beginning to
open their wide, flat petals, which droop at the end.  Then come the two-
to six-foot spurias, narrow-petaled types that make terrific cut flowers.
Then the Japanese irises, as flat as plates.
>
>The gardens' designated a national historical landmark in 1980, were
established in 1927, to honor Frank H. Presby, a prominent businessman and
civic leader in Upper Montclair.  An avid horticulturist, Mr. Presby was a
founder of the American Iris Society and helped start its first two test
gardens, at the New York Botanical Garden and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.
>
>Today, more than 4,000 varieties, from historic beauties grown in Europe
in the 1500's to the very latest hybrids, bloom in a literal rainbow of
colors curving along Upper Mountain Avenue in the six-acre Mountainside
Park.  The word iris, by the way, means rainbow, and every variety is
marked with its name, date introduced, and hybridizer.
>
>A bearded iris, if you have never mer one, can stand four feet high, with
a flower as wide as eight inches.  Three upright petals are called
standards (they stand up), and three lower petals are called falls, and
three pollen-laden anthers hover over the bristly "beard," or line of
golden hairs running down each fall.
>
>"We don't really know what that's for, but it may be to attract bees and
other pollinators," said Diana Devereaux, the garden supervisor.  Ms.
Devereaux has a master's degree in plant science and a master gardener's
certificate.  But from what I can see, a strong wrist and a sense of humor
are also crucial to this job.
>
>"I'm a compulsive deadheader," she said, snapping off faded blossoms with
alacrity as she led the way past gardeners staking up top-heavy stems that
had toppled in a recent rain, taking a picture, upon request, of two
mothers posing with their baby daughters in front of the Siberians, and
listening to yet another visitor's opinion as to the lovableness (or not)
of some iris unable to talk back.  Irises seem to elicit passionate
feelings from just about everyone.
>
>"Yuck, I hate these big blowzy types," I said, staring at Titan's Glory, a
bloated, satiny purple-blue bearded iris that won the 1986 Dykes Medal (the
Oscar for irises).  "It's like one of those puffed-up pastries in tacky
diners."
>
>Ms. Devereaux just laughed.  Last week, she said, a Canadian couple felt
compelled to tell her how much they loved the multicolored purples (as well
as their life story).  Other people hate the bicolors.
>
>"Another woman said, 'Whites are throwaways,' and hated every white there
is," Ms. Devereaux said.  "Another said she'd never have a yellow, because
they attract bees."  (Yes, but so do they all.)  "Another said, 'These are
the most beautiful gladioluses I have ever seen.'"
>
>Everyone just let that one sail right by, unenlightened.
>
>Ms. Devereaux has her own opinions.  "There isn't an iris here I don't
like," she said in the garden's historic section, gazing at a delicate
small purple, white and yellow iris called Gracchus, and dated 1884.  "This
is exactly the same iris that my great-great-grandmother looked at."
>
>But she does not like newfangled yellows, or ruffled ones.
>
>"If I look up the rainbow arc, the irises get bigger and brighter and
gaudier," she said.  "And in some cases, revolting."
>
>No wonder people talk to Ms. Devereaux when they visit the garden: she is
so full of useful information.  Bearded irises, especially, need full sun
and good drainage, so they appreciate raised beds, and most growers keep
the rhizomes partly exposed to the sun, to avoid root-rot.  (Though, Ms.
Devereaux is experimenting with cedar bark mulch, because some experts
point out that too much sun dries out the rhizomes, which then crack,
allowing entry to the dreaded borer and bacteria.)  Siberians, with their
narrow leaves and sexy buds, on the other had, like their feet near the
water, and they can takes a bit of shade.  And Louisianas are bog lovers,
so mulch them with leaves, and feed them well.
>
>The Siberians often bloom again, and hybridizers have been working like
mad to produce bearded irises that will rebloom in the fall.  Victoria
Falls, which looked blue to me (Lilac to Ms. Devereaux and lavender to yet
another opinionated visitors), is one popular reblooming, or remontant,
bearded iris.
>
>If you love irises, and play your cards right, you can enjoy them from the
first fragrant I. retilculatas, which bloom as early as February, to the
remontants, which bloom once in the spring, and then in the fall.
>
>"You might have some blooms in September, and some in October, and a few
in November," said Ms. Devereaux.  "And the blooms are also smaller, but
hey, they're doing double duty."
>
>Remontants are also high maintenance irises, because you have to water and
feed them all through the summer.  They need lots of sunshine, and you will
have trouble if it is a rainy fall.  Cold, wet and damp is a terrible
combination.
>
>And another thing: If your irises are smaller than they used to be, or not
blooming very well, they are probably crowded.  They should be divided
every three or four years, about six weeks after they bloom.
>=A8
>The Presby Memorial Iris Gardens, at 474 Upper Mountain Avenue, are open
during daylight hours.  Admission is free.  Information: (201) 783-5974.
>
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