The third flush

I take it all back. The iris colour fest is still going. Six weeks after I wrote about the first irises bursting into life mid April. I came back to the farm last night to find that yet more flowers are emerging.

Today I bring you act three. The next in the colour palette. This along the top edge of the orchard.

Inky dark crimson beauties. With orange throats. Do we call them throats? No. Stigmatic lip apparently. Wish I hadn’t looked. Because it could also be the haft of fall. And that just doesn’t sound right and it’s too early in the day to delve.

And a mustard yellow one that is more pleasing than the garish lemon yellow…

But I do prefer the crimson critters.

Yep. That eye watering bright yellow does not work with any other colour. I might accidentally behead that one next time I’m ambling past with intent and a pair of secateurs in my hand.

But I take what I can get. And it’s fun to have such strange tall spikes of the colour wheel in among the absurd lush green.

If I really had time I would wander around the whole garden and place discreet markers where the particular colours are. Especially the mad clashing ones.

And come autumn, lift, and swap and create a bit of cohesion.

In fact that is a rather good idea.

What a shame I have no hope of achieving it. There are a few acres of grass to mow. That will take a day. And I have to prepare the soil for the Great Re- Seeding of the Bare Earth.

Still, you can imagine that I’m the sort of organised gardener who could do that sort of clever tweaking of the iris collection.

But you know I won’t.