Driving to work the other day, I noticed something seemed out of place in a utility easement off to my right. Days passed before I had a reason to drive that way again; but knowing where to look, this time I could clearly see the green crowns of German iris plants scattered in profusion throughout the trenched and packed down right of way.
The New DigsYesterday, my husband and I went back and brought a few of them home to a pampered existence of amended soil, mulched surfaces, and regular watering. After surviving for over 50 years in neglect, they'll probably die from the shock. But it made me unbelievably happy to have this connection to the past scattered about my garden. These irises predictably bloom white or blue, but I don't really care which. They're in my garden to provide a feeling more than a flower.
That spot of town has been a cow pasture for as long as most people can recall, but the railroad used to run along there. The only memory of that now is the name of the street - "Railroad" - and a largely neglected historical sign along a park path. However, in the mid-1890's, our little town had a population of 250. The arrival of that railroad doubled the population. Though the railroad, too, is long gone, back then many of the town's homes were situated close to the commerce along the tracks. No telling what humble home was brightened by my plants' ancestors. And no telling how long they've survived there without any help from anyone.
"Peter's" abutilon (from Barton Sprgs. Nursery)
Source often determines what I will commonly call the plants I've started from cuttings - even when I know their botanical names. In my garden you'll find "Jeri's Llano Pink" (an unidentified antique rose from my friend Jeri's home on the Llano River), "Colleen's Climber" (found and shared by my friend Colleen Belk and later officially named for her), "Doug's Peach Iris" from my friend Doug's unbelievable cottage garden in Austin, "Lucinda's Hoja Santa" (started from an offshoot of my long time friend Lucinda's mother plant), and others.
Most of my shrimp plants were started from cuttings from the extension office demo garden. When I'm admiring the startling blue blooms on the Mexican salvia, I'm thinking of the first time I ever enjoyed the contrast of that color against its lime green foliage at Ila's house, then went home with precious cuttings wrapped in damp paper towel. Even lambs ears hold a memory for me of the day I first felt their soft leaves in the early 1970's and went home with a piece of the plant from Madalene Hill's herb garden in East Texas. It or its descendants have been in every single garden I've had since.
"Ila's" Mexican salvia
Many of our local nurseries propagate plants that become known by the gardener who first shared them or where they were originally found: "Marilyn's Choice" abutilon, "Peter's" abutilon, "schoolhouse" lily, the hugely successful "Martha Gonzales" rose, and the more recent "Peggy Martin" rose.
Schoolhouse (or Oxblood) Lily
When I walk through my yard, seeing these plants makes me feel connected to others, whether to dear friends who sent me home with cuttings, other gardeners with a plant I've admired and begged a piece of, or to unknown settlers who put a few irises on either side of a door to brighten the path. Let me know if there are "pass along plants" in your garden.
"Lucinda's" hoja santa
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Last Spring May Dreams Carol assigned the Felder Rushing book "Passalong Plants" for the book club and Felder himself came to the Zilker garden fest. I wrote a couple of Passalong posts at that time, but still need to post about the wonderful plants from Austin gardeners like Pam's daylily and MSS/Zanthan's oxblood lilies.
Were you able to capture any of this wonderful rain?
Annie at the Transplantable Rose
Pam gave me some 'Amethyst Flame' but it's not established enough to divide yet.
Annie