By the Plant Ladies, Christina Prime and Teri Chace
In Freeport, where I live, there is a small cove. This cove, when it was named, surely was being gazed upon by a person whose eyes saw what so many others have nodded with agreement at since then. This place certainly deserves the name “Beautiful Cove.” However you travel there, by car or foot, you will notice that the wild beauty is not limited to the actual cove, but extends the length of the road leading up to it. The plant life may look overgrown but if you peer intently, at this time of the year you will certainly notice July’s stunning plant, the blue flag (iris). A plant so familiar to me that it’s amazing it has taken Teri and me this many years to feature this island stunner in an article.
My memory of this plant goes back to summers gone by, every one of them, but I am especially drawn to decades ago. I spent many wonderful days at Beautiful Cove, as a kid, enjoying all the wonders of the area, including the sight of this flower. I do see it today, often, but in my mind, I am still looking at it with the delight of a child’s eye.
Now please join my fellow plant lady as she guides us along the shoreline, leading us on a winding dusty path to our own blue heaven, found where the blue flags grow.
I am wishing you all a wonderful summer, filled with many days of enjoying all that the wilderness has to offer, here and away, plus all manner of places in between.
Where the wild things are
Our blue flag iris, as Chris has so eloquently described, lives on both sides of the road down to Beautiful Cove as well as other similar sites on the Neck and Islands, such as Big Meadow Bog Trail on Brier Island and other area hiking trails. Common to them all is damp or wet soil, everything from boggy. marshy ground or areas around freshwater springs to decorating the edges of streams, ponds, and lakes. Blue flags also have a preference for open air and bright sunshine in which to lift up their pretty heads.
Normally, of course, we don’t hardly notice this or other wild irises, though their grassy or bladelike foliage is distinctive, not to be mistaken for any other native flower or weed—they blend in with surrounding plants such as (typically) meadow grasses and other native wildflowers.
Blue flag, Iris versicolor, is the most common one around here, but there are others worth mentioning. I had thought there was only regular blue flag around here, but I have noticed some smaller ones over on Brier Island. June Swift’s excellent little book Brier Island’s Wildflower Field Guide clarified: there is a shorter but otherwise quite similar one, aptly named “beach blue flag,” Iris setosa var. canadensis. Evidently its flowers are more fleeting, so spot one while you can!
Another one known as “slender blue flag,” Iris prismatica, has narrower leaves; I’ve seen it growing in damp areas of coastal Maine and would not be surprised to find it in this province one of these days.
The yellow-flowered one, Iris pseudacorus, is an attention-grabber because it has big yellow flowers and grows in patches in wet areas, sometimes right in shallow lake water. Unfortunately it is not native. It was introduced long ago from Europe and has spread around; some botanists and land managers consider it an aggressive weed and indeed, this one is on the Nova Scotia Invasives List. It’s also full of toxic compounds, in the roots but also in the sap, which may discourage you from messing with or deliberating planting it—wild and domesticated animals also give it a wide berth, adding up points against it! Just wanted to mention all this about the yellow one; you won’t see us featuring it here because we tend to prefer profiling our many native plants.
If you spot a wild iris with purple or blue flowers in drier ground, and it’s only a few inches high, it’s probably Iris verna or Iris cristata. These will even bloom in somewhat shady locations, even woods. Honestly, I’ve only ever seen these in cultivation, that is, in somebody’s stylish rock garden, where they look terrific and do great.
What’s in a name?
As we sometimes point out, plants have scientific names to help with understanding classification and relationships. Iris is a case of a plant whose scientific name and common name are the same (others are hosta, dahlia, and begonia). The scientific name is fixed (named with a “dead” or little-used language, Latin or Greek) and the common names vary—which is why it can be helpful to have both handy for clarification.
“Iris” means “rainbow” in Greek, and I daresay that makes more sense when we view the garden irises. Wild ones like blue flag are not full of colour—just blue or purple, some yellow and white detailing.
As for “blue flag,” I consider this common name to be slightly a misnomer, as the flowers aren’t literally blue but trending more purple. The “flag” part refers to the leaves, actually. Do these flattish, tallish leaves flutter in the wind like a flag? Nah, I don’t think so. Actually it turns out that the old English word “flagge” meant “reed” or “rush,” good swampland plants.
Wild vs. domesticated
Yes, wild irises are the (distant) parents of those big garden favourites, “bearded” irises. And wowza, their colours, especially if you shop around or get some rhizomes from a specialty nursery. The blooms may be two- or-even three-tone, making for some truly gorgeous flowers. Coppery oranges, ruby-reds, yellow-gold-and-creamsicle-orange, ivory rimmed in lilac, pink-and-purple, and so forth. The bearded irises, alas, have a weakness. A dastardly borer hatches in the spring and works its way down the stem into the rhizome, eating voraciously as it goes and usually killing the plant. Wild irises have no such enemy, thank goodness.
One more iris I should mention, especially since I have it in my perennial garden, is Siberian iris (Iris sibirica). The flowers actually look similar to those of blue flags, but, to be honest, they’re plain in comparison, simply not as lovely.
The root of the matter
Iris leaves and flowers grow directly from a thick rootstock technically called a rhizome. Over the years it grows and branches out, sending up more and more leaves and flowers from a given area. This is why you can see blue flags and other irises growing in slowly-spreading-out clusters.
The rhizome lives just under the soil surface, often even a little bit exposed. (Garden rhizomes should be planted shallowly, therefore. If your bearded irises don’t bloom, you’ve planted them too deeply.) If you want to get down on your knees and take a closer look, you’ll probably see all this and then be able to determine a plant’s size and extent.
You may have heard of the “orris root” iris, which is not this one, but a European wildling, Iris florentina. Someone, somewhere, long ago discovered that the inner part of a dried root could be powdered and used as a fixative—that is, it absorbs other fragrances and slowly releases them. Thus orris root is popular for use in making potpourri, as well as in perfumes and cosmetics. (Sadly, blue flag’s root doesn’t have this property.)
Insect-eye view
Checking out how a flower is pollinated is always an interesting exercise because it makes us look very closely. Blue flags attract a variety of pollinators! Hummingbirds (I’d love to see that and will be watching this year), bees of course, occasionally butterflies, as well as little insects called syrphid flies.
The larger, curving outer “petals” (sepals) make a good landing site and the markings are thought to guide or coax the pollinator in toward the center (the plant world equivalent of airport runway lights) where there is a bounty of nectar. To do this, it has to wedge its little body into the opening under the female part, where the previous flower’s pollen is scraped off and new pollen then dusts its back (thus, self-pollination is prevented). The pollinator may not come into close contact with the actual upright petals in the very middle—weird but true. In the end, the goal is a signature thick, cylindrical seed capsule, not much to look at but full of potential for future beauties.
Fancy symbology
Irises have often been viewed as regal flowers. The distinctive three-part blooms were used in art and décor and even copied in the design at the top of a royal scepter: three parts for courage or chivalry, faith, and wisdom…or divine right, purity, and light…or the Holy Trinity…take your pick. The French crown and Quebec flag “fleur de lis” is a stylized iris bloom.
I was amused, when looking into this, to find a debate about whether the fleur de lis referred to an iris or a lily (“lis” means “lily” in French). The river Lys in Flanders is touted as proof that iris wins, because the marshy banks of that river are full of wild irises. There you have it!
In praise of blue flag
I’ve often thought that an iris flower that’s done, dried, crumpled and curled up, looks raggedy and forlorn. If the summer is a dry one, the irises flowers don’t last long—sad.
This possibly brief show is not reason to dismiss or ignore our wild irises. Because when they are in bloom, in their prime and fresh, there isn’t a more thrilling flower to view. Peering at their pure purple or softer lilac colours, delicately enhanced by a splash of yellow and a tracery of dark lines (the “landing lines” for pollinators as mentioned above), is there anything more elegant, more exquisite? They somehow remind me of the soft jewellike light of a ray of sun coming through the stained-glass window of a great cathedral. Oh, beautiful blue flag, we know you can’t stay all summer, but we promise to soak in your beauty while we can.