Each morning as I check my email to see if anyone else has provided
potential identities for my unknown irises, I am reminded of how much I
enjoy these particular plants and the special place they hold in my
heart. A dearly departed irisarian used to urge me to eliminate
all the unknown irises from my iris beds. I could understand his
reasoning, as it came from the perspective of a commercial iris
background. Unknown irises have little to no value for a commercial
seller. They aren't marketable as anything but inexpensive landscape
plants, yet they take up just as much space, fertilizer, water, and labor
in the garden as the more profitable named cultivars.
I, however, have a very different perspective on my unknown irises, and I
would never deliberately rid my garden of a single one. Whereas named
varieties can be easily replaced if they should meet an untimely end in
one's garden, a lost unknown is lost forever. And because most of my
unknowns are historics, I embrace the alluring possibility that my beds
may cradle rare treasures from the past that exist only here - treasures
that someone somewhere is eagerly seeking and that are my responsibility
to keep safe until discovered and given their proper recognition and
respect.
How likely is it that my unknowns are, indeed, precious to anyone but me?
Probably not terribly. But it's the possibility and the mystery of
these plants that make them so irresistible. Do I really want to know
their true identities? Yes and no. It's a bit like finding an old piece
from your great grandparents' house in your attic. As long as you don't
take it to an antiques expert for appraisal, you can hold dear its
priceless potential.
So, my tough old unknowns who grow circles around their more modern and
thoroughly known counterparts will always hold their places in both my
heart and my garden. And if someone from the "Antique Iris Road Show"
should appear on my doorstep with $10,000 in hand for a start of unknown
#56, I won't be complaining.
