Showing posts with label Dutch Iris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dutch Iris. Show all posts

Monday, May 25, 2026

A good day at Dr. Cho’s dental office.

May 25, 2026

  



Not all days are good days in the garden. Sometimes things look pretty rough, but right now everything is blooming nicely. Here you can see orange Asiatic lilies, daylilies, purple salvia, Snow-in-Summer, ornamental alliums or walking onions, garden phlox, and iris foliage. There may also be some Silver Mound artemisia mixed in with the Snow-in-Summer.

The orange Asiatic lilies are the dramatic stars of the bed. They grow upright with glossy leaves climbing the stems like little green ladders. Asiatic lilies are hardy perennial bulbs and usually bloom in early to midsummer. They like full sun to part sun and average watering, especially during dry spells. After they bloom, I can deadhead the spent flowers, but I should leave the green stems until they yellow naturally because the bulbs are recharging. Mulch helps keep the roots cool, and they can be divided every few years if they become crowded.

Important note: lilies are extremely toxic to cats, even the pollen.

The purple salvia is probably ‘May Night’ salvia. Salvia is an absolute pollinator magnet. Bees treat it like a tiny airport terminal. It likes full sun and is drought tolerant once established. If I cut back the flower spikes after the first bloom, I may get a second flush of flowers. It can also be divided every few years if it starts to get woody in the middle.

The daylilies are almost indestructible. They spread steadily and thrive in Indiana gardens. They like sun to part sun and moderate watering. I can remove the spent flower stalks to keep them tidy, and divide them every four or five years if they start flowering less.

The white and silver mounds in front are Snow-in-Summer  mixed with Silver Mound artemisia. They add a soft, silvery edge to the bed and make the bright flowers stand out even more. Snow-in-Summer likes sun and well-drained soil. It can spread, so I may need to trim it back when it gets too enthusiastic. Silver Mound artemisia also likes sun and good drainage and does not want wet feet.

The upright onion-like clumps with round buds look like ornamental alliums or walking onions. They add excellent vertical texture, like little garden exclamation points. They prefer full sun and well-drained soil and are very drought tolerant once established. I should leave the foliage as long as possible so it can feed the bulbs.

There is also garden phlox coming along and iris foliage adding height and structure. Even when the irises are finished blooming, their leaves still help hold the shape of the bed.

This is the kind of garden moment I like: not perfect, not finished, but full of color, texture, bees, bulbs, and possibility. A dental office garden is not where one necessarily expects drama, but the lilies are absolutely giving a performance.

Tuesday, October 14, 2025

Fall gardening

October 14, 2025


I’ve learned how to handle both my Dutch iris and gladiolus, and I’m starting to trust what my own garden is teaching me.

Dutch Iris

Every few years, when the clumps get crowded, I need to divide my Dutch iris. Late summer to early fall—August or September—is the best time here in Indianapolis, after the foliage has fully died back. I let the leaves yellow naturally so the bulbs can pull their energy back in. Then I lift the clumps gently with a garden fork, separate the bulbs and any offsets, and throw out anything shriveled, mushy, or rotted. I can either replant them right away about four inches deep or store them somewhere cool and dry until I'm ready.

Gladiolus

Gladiolus are a little different because the mother corm dies after blooming. I’m supposed to divide them every year, usually after the first frost in late October or early November, when the foliage browns. When I dig them up, I cut the foliage down to about an inch. I’ll find the dried-up mother corm to toss, the new corm or two that I'll replant, and smaller cormlets I can keep growing. The healthy corms need to cure for about a week in a cool, dry spot before I store them in paper or mesh bags or in something like peat moss or sawdust, at around 40–50°F in the dark. Then I plant them again in the spring, after the frost danger has passed.

What I Noticed in My Own Yard

Even though the general advice says gladiolus won’t survive winters in Zone 6, mine come back every other year. That tells me my conditions must be helping them overwinter. They might be deeper in the ground than most people plant them, or maybe leaves and mulch are protecting them. It’s also possible that new cormlets are maturing and coming up in place of the old ones. I could also have a hardier strain, or maybe they’re tucked into a warmer microclimate without me even realizing it.

Because they’ve returned in my yard, I feel better about planting them in the fall—especially in the same spots where I’ve seen them survive. To give them the best chance, I’ll plant them six to eight inches deep, mulch with leaves after the ground freezes, and avoid spots that get too wet.

What I’m Taking Forward

The “rules” may say one thing, but my garden keeps showing me what actually works. My Dutch iris will go on their usual fall schedule. And even though most people in my zone dig up gladiolus for winter, mine have already proven they can handle being left in the ground—at least in certain areas. I’m going to work with the conditions I already know are successful and trust the evidence I’ve seen with my own eyes.

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

Bulbs arrived!

September 24, 2025

 

My new bulbs arrived, and I’m so excited to plant them! I think I’ll wait until after October 4 to put them in the ground. For now, they’re tucked safely in a box in the refrigerator, just waiting for their time.

One evening this week, I also need to head over to Dr. Cho’s to trim the lilacs and do a bit more work in his garden. I’m leaning toward Friday night—there’s nothing else going on then. It will be nice to spend some quiet time outside, get the work done, then come home, take a long shower, and settle in with a good movie.

There’s something comforting about this rhythm—gardening, caring for plants, making plans, and then rewarding myself with rest. It feels like a reminder that balance is possible: a little work, a little care for others, and then time to recharge in my own cozy space.

Saturday, September 13, 2025

Each sprout, bloom, and fallen leaf reminds me to notice, to nurture, and to find beauty in patience.

September 13, 2025




I woke up with allergies in the night and again this morning. I should probably take a Benadryl, even though it makes me feel like a zombie—but I need my energy for the garden this weekend. The grass in the front and back yards is begging to be mowed, and there are plants that need attention. Maybe I’ll even find time to work on my paintings.

The squirrels are loud this morning, chattering and rustling through the trees. I hope they don’t leave a surprise on me again! The birds are noisy too, their songs mixing with the rustle of leaves and the soft hum of the wind. I love how slowing down makes me notice these details. I used to walk in Broad Ripple, moving quickly past everything, but for the last couple of years I’ve stayed in the park with Chewy. I see the trees’ bark textures, the way the light hits each branch, and even notice familiar faces. The park feels alive and intimate now, not just a path I pass through.

Gardening feels different this year, too. The recent limb trimming has opened the backyard, letting sunlight spill into areas that were once shaded. The patch by the gate now basks in morning sun, and I think I might finally grow something there. The creeping Charlie is still making its rounds, but I feel like I’m gaining the upper hand. I remember battling clover years ago—now it’s gone. Gardens come in waves; patience is key.

I picked up some baby onions at Walmart and plan to plant more whenever I move other plants around. I’m imagining a spring bulb bed: Dutch iris with deep violet petals, day lilies opening in soft gold, gladiolus in striking pinks and reds. Perhaps I’ll order some for myself and some for Dr. Cho. Later in the season, daffodils will trumpet cheerful yellow among the green, alliums will rise like little fireworks, and iris will add elegant purples and blues.

I can almost see the ultimate bulb garden: daffodils, alliums, Dutch iris, iris, gladiolus, and day lilies all blooming together in waves of color and texture. It’s ambitious, but I think I can make it happen. Gardening isn’t just work—it’s a way to watch life unfold slowly. Each sprout, bloom, and fallen leaf reminds me to notice, to nurture, and to find beauty in patience.