Dwarf irises for early spring euphoria.

I adore the little dwarf bulbous irises -- I. reticulata, various related species and hybrids. They flower super early, mine have been blooming for about a month now, and unlike, say, snowdrops, which one only loves because they are early (I mean, really, if snowdrops bloomed in June, no one would have ever heard of them) these little guys have some of the most incredibly beautiful, intricate, fragrant flowers I know of.

I planted the hybrid 'George' just three years ago, and already the original few bulbs have begun multiplying into generous clumps. This past fall I added 'Harmony' (rich blue) "Katherine Hodgekins' (pale blue) and I. danfordiea (yellow) all of which went together to create a cheerful and intensely fragrant bouquet for my mother-in-law's birthday this past weekend

Smudge, our cat, liked it too.

I've heard from other people that dwarf irises sometimes fail to rebloom in subsequent years, but I've never had that be a problem. I think the key is good drainage and full sun while their foliage is up in the spring. But even if they didn't rebloom for me, I wouldn't be without them. They are beautiful, cheap, and easy. What more could you ask for?

Fabulous but forgotten

This post is part of a group blogging project on great old fashioned plants... see links to the other amazing contributions at the bottom of the page.

When I was in Buffalo last summer, we visited a public trial gardens. They had planted out all sorts of the newest, latest, greatest, and most exciting new varieties of annuals and perennials. And then there was a row of Dahlias. Big, impossibly lovely dahlias.

As people leaned in for photos we chatted with the director of the gardens, and he said the dahlias weren't actually part of the trial. He'd just had some extra space, so he stopped at the local big box store, grabbed some random dahlia tubers and put them in to fill the spot.

And they were totally stealing the show – and not just with us, he said everyone who visited commented on them.

Let me repeat that: all the newest, most exciting, hot-off-the-press varieties couldn't hold a candle to a handful of random, no-name dahlias.

photo credit

 Sometimes really great, slightly old-fashioned plants get lost in the flurry of everything that is exciting and new. New is great – I love new plants (and like making new plants) but I think it is time we took another look at dahlias.

photo credit

Quickly, let me run down why dahlias are so freaking awesome.

photo credit

You can get them just about anyway you want them: Tall plants, short plants, tiny flowers obnoxiously huge flowers, doubles, singles, simple, frilly, reds, yellows, pinks, mauve, purplish, basically any color at all except blue. They bloom all summer, have not serious pest problems, and some even have lovely dark purple-red foliage. They look great in the garden, and they are spectacular as cut flowers.

Perhaps my favorite thing about them is: Winter doesn't matter. Winter is a total non-issue. With so many of my plants, I go to great lengths, tucking them into sheltered nooks, building raised beds to give them perfect drainage, I cover them, fret if there isn't enough snow. With Dahlias, I wait until frost, then grab a garden fork, pop them out of the ground, let them dry a day or two, wrap them in dry newspaper, shove them in a bag, and dump them in the basement. It is practically effortless, and no matter what Old Man Winter throws as me, I know they're fine. And even if that tiny bit of work seems like too much, they're cheap enough you can just let them freeze and treat them like annuals.

See other posts on great old-fashioned plants:
From the fabulous Frances
the excellent Ryan Miller (whose idea this was!)
And the remarkable Matt Mattus

The best smelling rose in the world

Perhaps I should just say the best smelling rose my nose has ever encountered. Which is still saying something. I used to be minorly obsessed with roses (in my teens... I sort of grew out of it) and have spent a lot of time sniffing the over 11,000 rose bushes in the Columbus Ohio Park of Roses when I lived in that town. Sniffing through that collection, and every other collection of roses I have come across, nothing comes close to the scent of Madam Ernst Calvat.
Not only is her scent strong (when she is in full bloom, I can smell her easily several yards away at the other end of the garden) but it is marvelous and evocative. I showed a flower to a friend once, and after inhaling deeply, she said, "Wow... that really... takes you places, doesn't it?" Smells are always hard to describe, but to me it is a wild, exotic, smell. Not quite floral, not quite incense, completely marvelous.
If you don't know the good madam, here is what she looks like in my garden:

She's a hybrid perpetual, and like most hybrid perpetuals (indeed, like most roses) she is a gawky, rangy sort of shrub, inclined to get mildew. Which is why, if you look closely in the picture you can see strawberries growing at her feet, and onions in the background. Roses to me are for putting in vases, so I grow them with my other cut flowers out back with the vegetables.

Here she is looking as she should, in a vase, with some Phlox 'Chattahoochee' filling the house with her incredible scent.

I just wish you could smell it too, through your computer screen. It would set you dreaming.

Just because it is pretty

A little vase of flowers I cut recently from the garden:

Alchemilla mollis, Lathyrus niger, and a random snapdragon (Antirrhinum hybrid).