The Siberian Iris in the little bed in front of the greenhouse have been in dire need of thinning and transplanting for several years now. What with one thing and another, I'm only now getting to it.
But the good news is that a year ago, I wasn't strong enough to even think about hoicking the thick mats of iris. Thanks to my strict regime of occupational therapy with Josie, now I can do it. Not quickly, but I can do it. I spent part of a day getting out two five gallon buckets full and gave them to Justin to plant down in their yard. Yesterday I went at it again.
But first I prepared a place to plant them. The Stairs of Doom, as a friend named them (for the perilous nature of the uneven steps and steep descent) are just beside our front porch. How pretty, I thought, if there were a cascade of Siberian Iris flanking them.
And lo! it came to pass! My gardener's eye sees ahead to a future spring when the deep purple of the iris will look like a waterfall beside the steps.
I've only dug up about half of the iris. But I have plans for the rest. And plans for the bed where they were. Just a few more days of sweaty labor . . .
