the miserable gardener

“Isn’t that a Cornus florida? What’s all this about watering restrictions, growing nothing but plants that need no irrigation here, western dryland plants, etc. etc. etc.?”

I get this a lot. Of course, attentive readers will know that never have I even remotely suggested that all I grow are plants that need no irrigation, or that I even advocate that kind of gardening. People do tend to jump to conclusions, and I’ve had to go to considerable lengths to explain that the rhododendrons here, which are all grouped together in a little portion of the garden, are not “water-wise” by any standard, even though I write about dryland plants almost exclusively.

Yes, it is a Cornus florida. It’s supposed to help shade the rhodies. George Schenk, in The Complete Shade Gardener (like his moss book, one of the all-time best gardening books), says “when established, the tree will withstand summer drought’. Like a lot of other easterners. It’s not getting high-desert conditions here, in any case. And I have a ready made 6-foot tall cage I can throw over it, with some burlap, to get it used to the sun and dry air. Or whatever it needs getting used to.

But ultimately, the fact that I might have to explain this to some people really does separate them from the true gardeners, who need no explanations, because they understand.

I rarely (actually, never) watch the news, figuring it’s bad for my psyche, but I did catch the business about the new watering restrictions last night. Okay, I’ll play along, as usual.

If half the plants in the back yard die from lack of water (either from the sky or hose), big deal. I’ll just plant something else. If I lived in a place like California I’d be replacing all the water hogs with native plants that are adapted to summer drought, and never look back. In some ways, I would really like to have the whole garden be on the same watering schedule as the front yard (that is, never), but, like a lot of gardeners, I have this problem. I want the garden filled with plants, and unless I start duplicating or triplicating what I already have, there aren’t many things left to choose from.

Maybe the upcoming plant sale (oh, there went my pulse …) at DBG, hosted by the Rocky Mountain Chapter of the North American Rock Garden Society (RMCNARGS for short, thankfully) this weekend will have something I never dreamed of, that I never knew I needed or wanted. The sale always does. Members only, tomorrow evening. Note to self: put credit card in wallet.

Changing the subject slightly, Iris missouriensis is blooming, for the first time in its new, third location. It was in a wetter spot before that, but recalling what Barr wrote about the plant, it seems to do okay with what’s called “regular” watering around here (meaning, when I remember), though in real life the iris is much happier growing in bogs or fens.

Which is where it first grew. In the fens in South Park, just off the Boreas Pass Road. Really a stunning sight to seem them in full bloom. I collected some seed one year, and even dug up a plant in the middle of the road. I’ve never done this before or since, but the poor thing had just been flattened by an SUV, so I rescued it. Why didn’t its parents tell it not to germinate in the road? Darwinism in reverse. But maybe the supposedly dumb plant, the one I rescued, will be the only survivor, along with the ones I grew from seed, and the fens will be drained and trophy homes built on the graves of ten thousand irises.