July, 19 19 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



227 



sound to our ears. And I feel strongly that all 

 Iris lovers should take part in it. . 



Perhaps if the German Iris were in truth a 

 German the discussion would have little point, 

 for a German by any other name would continue 

 to be one. But as far as I can learn the great 

 variety of hybrid Irises that are known as Ger- 

 man — perhaps from a resemblance or a sus- 

 pected kinship to the species I. germanica — are 

 creatures without a country, born of gay affilia- 

 tions in gardens, and so are native broadly of 

 the entire gardening world. Certainly their 

 parentage is pretty generally problematical, 

 though attributed somewhat vaguely to various 

 European and Asiatic species, their own begin- 

 nings not at all exactly established. The 

 "Standard Cyclopedia of Horticulture" is au- 

 thority for the statement that the so-called species 

 — neglecta, squalens, florentina, albicans, lurida, 

 fiavescens, Kochii, variegata, plicata, aphylla, 

 Cengialti, Swertii, sambucina — that are generally 

 credited to have borne a part in the creation of 

 the German Irises, are, many of them, of garden 

 origin; and that even I. germanica, itself, is not 

 certainly known to occur in a native state! 



This being the case there seems ample reason 

 why we should give this lovely flower, that is 

 becoming more and more important in the world 

 of American horticulture, a more accurate desig- 

 nation, and while we are about it, a name that 

 shall have none but happy associations for us 

 and all the world. 



Numerous suggestions have already been ad- 

 vanced. Mr. Rollins in Horticulture calls it the 

 French Iris, but unless the fact that an Iris is 

 the national flower of France constitutes it, 

 there seems small reason for this choice. Liberty 

 Iris has been suggested, I believe; and Mr. Grosch- 

 ner in the Flower Grower lays stress upon- the 

 charm of the old name Fleur-de-lis and sug- 

 gests that we adhere to this, out of compliment 

 to our great ally. There is ample precedent for 

 our adoption of this name for so all Irises were 

 called as far back as the days of Parkinson and 

 Gerarde. "Flour-de-luce" they termed it to 

 suit their less nimble tongues; and probably the 

 plainer American tongue would ring yet other 

 changes upon it, and have some difficulty in get- 



ting it into the plural successfully when occasion 

 demanded, suddenly. 



For myself I like the old English phrase Flag 

 Iris. It has long been in use, and seems to me 

 peculiarly suited to this class of Iris because so 

 appropriate. To me these lovely flowers suggest 

 nothing so much as victorious flags and banners 

 as they unfurl along the borders, making the 

 garden for the period of their occupation the 

 scene of a triumphal pageant: 



Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled, 

 Which will you have, yellow, blue, speckled. 

 Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow, 

 Each in its wav has not a fellow. 



In Praise of 

 Magenta 

 With Blue 



pLSEWHERE I 

 *—* have spoken of the 

 really fine effect of these 

 two flower colors when 

 placed together. It does not at first thought 

 seem a felicitous arrangement, but the effect 

 produced is in truth one of great depth and rich- 

 ness. I have before spoken of the fine effect of 

 the purely magenta Loosestrife and blue Monks- 

 hood (Aconitum Napellus) in each other's com- 

 pany and now I have seen two other examples 

 that confirm my pleasure in this color associa- 

 tion. One was a planned arrangement in a 

 friend's garden, the other a " happen " in my own. 

 They were equally successful. My friend had 

 planted a great spread of rocky ground with the 

 common Moss Pink (Phlox subulata) and thickly 

 interplanted it with bright blue Grape Hya- 

 cinths. I have seldom seen a spring picture 

 more lovely, and the rather commonplace ap- 

 pearance of the Moss Pink was changed to some- 

 thing rare and fine by the hundreds of deep blue 

 points that pierced it. 



Yesterday in an out-of-the-way corner of my 

 own garden I came upon a thicket of Blue Spider- 

 wort (Tradescantia virginica) closely set with 

 the very old fashioned and brilliantly magenta 

 Flower-of-Jove (Lychnis Flos-Jovis). These two 

 had come together somehow, perhaps from an 

 innate sense of their supreme fitness to set each 

 other off, when alone they would have, in all 

 probability, been hustled out of the way as too 



old-fashioned and too easy to grow to deserve 

 notice. Anyway the effect they combined to 

 produce was sufficient to halt the steps of several 

 very grand visitors and to call forth very genuine 

 expressions of admiration. One could almost 

 see the "malignantly" colored, gay little Flower- 

 of-Jove preen her gray velvet leaves. 



Other associations of these two colors that 

 occur to me are Lychnis Coronaria and Veronica 

 spicata, Salvia pratensis rosea and blue Lupines. 

 The lovely Iris Queen of May, that perhaps no 

 one will admit even verges on magenta, is 

 greatly enhanced by a background of the Blue 

 Meadow Sage (Salvia pratensis). 



When the Morning 

 Glory saved 

 the day 



A LWAYSIhavehada 

 **■ weakness for Morn- 

 ing Glories. I say "weak- 

 ness" for I am sure my 

 feeling for them would be considered as such 

 by gardeners of standing. Moreover, it is just 

 the simple five-cent-the-packet kind that appeals 

 to me, not even the grand Imperial Japs! 



One of those war gardening summers I suddenly 

 awoke to the fact that I had raised no Petunias 

 for the stone pots that ornament the low wall that 

 separates one part of the garden from another. 

 They are very large pots with a good depth of 

 soil, but the situation is exposed and hot, and so 

 far Petunias had been the only flowers that had 

 managed to look comfortable and happy in them. 

 But there were no Petunias, and those being 

 rather distracted and economical days, I tucked 

 into the pots all the left-over Morning Glory 

 seeds hoping, at least, for a showing of green. They 

 came up pretty thick; but I left them all in, and 

 they climbed upon each other and in and out 

 until they had woven in each pot a great mound 

 of green, with now and then a graceful streamer 

 flung over the side. They were simply "mixed" 

 seed, but when the vines began to bloom — rose 

 and purple, pink and white, the effect was as 

 charming as a pattern of old chintz. And how 

 they did bloom! 



How often it happens that by some such simple 

 means as this our best garden effects are brought 

 about. 



SHALL IT BE "FLAG IRIS?" 



Quite a merry argument may be put forward in favor of calling these Irises by the venerable, honored, and picturesque name of "Flag Iris" instead of German Iris 



which, ail-apparently, it is not 



