redoing the iris bed

Now readers of my blog know that I LOVE my iris beds. Those sweeps of color that seem to echo the sky. I have beds of the carefully bred Siberians--purples and blues, mauves and pale yellows. So many colors that dance in the late spring days. And in front of the house--like a grand entry way--is a sweep of pure blue. The basic Siberian iris planted in a mass of color accented by red poppies. Oh for a week or so it is spectacular.

But as my DH noted recently this year there were just not as many flowers as before. Indeed brambles and golden rod grew in the middle of the bed. Yes, I agreed. The soil was a bit worn. It needed a good pruning and weeding. Digging and work. I kept meaning to do it. But it has been a busy year. The loss of a parent--my FIL, the illness of a treasured friend--too young, too valued for such things to happen.  It makes my worries seem trivial and silly. And rain. Lots and lots of rain.

Oh the excuses mounted. The brambles grew. Until finally today I decided enough was enough. Time to make a stab at it. Sure it would have been easier earlier. But better late than never as they say. So I put on my leather gloves, work pants, work shirt. And went at it. Cut out the brambles. The weak growth. Dig and pull. Dig and pull. Until finally there was a whole in the center where the weakest growth had been.  Then new soil. Some bark mulch. A bit of lime to sweeten the soil. And now I wait. The irises will fill in. At least that is my hope. New and more beautiful than before.

But as I was doing this I got to thinking--isn't this a parable for my life right now? Yes, doesn't it always return to quilts for me.  Sure I have been working hard making new quilts. Pillows. Purses. Table runners.

And it still feels like I am in a rut.  A bit snappy. After all, sales in the Falls have been slow. Lots of new stores opening attracting different markets. Having a movie filmed in town actually doesn't help business--at least not my business. Or is it that I have been so busy making new work, getting ready for a new studio that I haven't had as much time to explore new markets? Maybe my customers are not here just yet? I am taking a break from one show I usually do. Another got changed by the Boston bombing--how long ago that seems. So many reasons float before me.

I pull the brambles and make the quilts. I explore new markets and realize this is not personal. I must calm down and be steady and sure. Add a bit of new soil. A new look. Keep adding the lime. I must stay sweet. Apologize for those I have snapped at.  I do have lots of shows in just a month or two.  And I will need the purses and pillows, the placemats and table runners. And of course the new quilts. Lots and lots of new quilts.

So do you ever feel like you are in a rut? A bit snappy? What do you do? How do you cope?

inhaling blue

OK--it is spring. Today the sun shines. The sky is blue. The irises are out in their intricate outrageous splendor. Such wonderful intense colors. So many complex patterns. Such fleeting beauty.  I rush out and try to examine all the subtle changes. The tiny ruffles and flourishes. Can I store these wonderful colors deep within me? Nourish my soul, so to speak.  I try to capture them in clumps. So much color at once--I breathe deeply and yet my mind sees more than my camera does. I try to remember their names. The changes in the details. And yet that is not their essence--at least not for me

Instead I pause before each one. The new ones that have just opened this morning. The ones that are blooming for the first time ever in my garden. The old favorites. Some in clumps so big they flop over. And in my mind I of course--for you knew this would indeed return to quilts--plan the deep deep blue quilt that I must make. The haunting skies that I must try to capture. The quilt that has been teasing me at just the back of my brain. I see just snippets of it--too uncertain to dare begin--and yet I know that today is the day. Today I must sketch and start. I must try to capture it. For isn't this the essence of the blue--the irises that dance for just such a short time? At least that is what I think today.

Consider the dark intense perfection of teal velvet. So rich I could sink into it.

Or the exuberance of mountain lake. So brilliant that the clump dances in the wind even as I take its image.

mountain lake--Siberian iris--Ann Brauer

mountain lake--Siberian iris--Ann Brauer

The complex colors of Berlin ruby wine.

Berlin ruby wine--siberian iris--Ann Brauer

The delicate clumps of papillon. It takes a year or two to establish and then it just grows and grows.

papillon--Siberian iris--Ann Brauer

One of my newer iris--Miss Apple. Oh I do love the colors. So haunting. So special

The promise of tall, dark and handsome. Yes, it blooms just a little later but it is so present when it arrives.

tall, dark and handsome--Siberian iris--Ann Brauer

The wonderful colors of in full sail.

in full sail--Siberian iris--Ann Brauer

And dare I forget creme caramel. Not blue--but so glorious.

creme caramel--Siberian iris--Ann Brauer

 Oh I could go on and on. But yes, it is time. My "boss" reminds me I have quilts to make. Fabrics to play with. So many things to do. So do you have flowers you look forward to every year? Do you find that the gardens around you inspire your art? What do you think?

thoughts on raspberries, compost and--of course--quilts

June--one of my very favorite times of the year. The garden is alive with color and promise beckoning me outside before and after work. As I weed and plant, I am constantly thinking of new additions. New plans that will make it even better. Shouldn't I move that blue iris over there? What about putting a daylily here? And then there are the raspberries.

Now I confess I love raspberries--so much flavor. Summer in a simple bite. That wonderful rose color. Dessert picked fresh in the garden as the day cools off. Delish!!!

But--and as you have learned--frequently there is a but--my raspberry patch is dieing. The plants become shorter and shorter. And they are in a location where their shoots spread into the asparagus patch. Even invade the Siberian iris. Now that is a problem.  With envy I admired the vigorous bright green rows of berries I drove by on my way to the studio.

So when my DH offered to plow up a patch in the meadow for a new berry patch, I leapt at the chance. Finally a berry patch surrounded by grass. The runners could be mowed. I quickly got on the web and ordered three different types of raspberries from Nourse Farms. I wanted raspberries for all seasons. And I knew that the old plants had played themselves out.

Plant in rich deep loam the directions said. Right, I grin. We live on top of a mountain. Now I grew up on the rich soils of Illinois. The soil there went down two, three feet. Lovely and lush. There is a reason my ancestors moved out there. But here, in Massachusetts there is ledge and rock sometimes even on the surface of the soil.  It is lovely--the views are great-- but the soil is thin, acidic and rocky.

After my DH removes the sod, I double dig the trench by hand, hacking through the stone,  pulling out the rocks and stray roots. Oh this is hard work. I bring in wheelbarrows of soil pushed aside years ago when the  meadow was cleared. But still I worry that this is not enough. The soil is not rich. It feels sandy and thin.

In for a dime, in for a dollar. Isn't that the saying? So I go to the local farm store--Shelburne Farm and Garden--and actually purchase bags of organic composted cow manure and lime. Remember I grew up on a farm. Buying bags of cow manure just seems weird--sorry.  I spend many hours of my youth shoveling manure out of the barn. I don't know if you understand what a big step this is for me. But if I am going through all this work, shouldn't I give my raspberries the very best start possible? I also buy lime. Lots of lime. I will create good soil.

And that is where this post actually becomes about quilts. (You knew I would get around to it, didn't you?) Sure my grandmother used my dad's long wool pants for the quilts that provided the warmth in the bed though she cut out the holes in the knees. And even during the Depression she insisted on selecting the feed sack cloth for the finer quilts that would decorate the top of the beds. I am convinced that sometimes the chickens ate pig food because the fabric was better.

And shouldn't we, if we are going to spend the time and effort making a quilt, make it using the best materials we can get. Not the discount fabrics that are out there. I tried that ONCE. But that is another story. Isn't it better to do it right?

Meanwhile here is the new raspberry bed. I mulched it with leaves raked last fall. Now I just have to wait until next spring. I can taste them already. What do you think? Do you have raspberries? And what materials are important to you?

what's in a name?

This time of year, I LOVE iris. Little iris cristata blooming so bravely in the cold. Miniature bearded iris that burst into bright purples and blues, ridiculous yellows--so complete and outrageous. The blue Siberian iris that I plant in masses of sky against the red poppies. And especially the hybridized Siberian and Japanese with lush variations of whites and blue, lavenders and purples. Each filling an unexplained need within me after the greys and browns of early spring.  I pore over the catalogs dreaming of new colors. Oh spring has come!!

And in western Massachusetts I scour the local paper hunting for that one iris sale. Each year a local farm opens up for one week-end. I never know which week-end it will be. This is a bit of paradise on earth. Last year I bought more Japanese iris than I could imagine. This year the sale was last week-end. Now Saturday was my birthday. My DH had left at 6:15 to assist his students at the State Middle School Science Fair--never let it be said that teachers don't work hard!!! But that was OK--the iris sale was happening.

I left the house as early as I could to drive up to the sale. What a treat! I was the first person there. The son--who loves to talk iris--was there. I could ask him any question about iris. Learn so much. He showed me the Iris Setosa--a flag iris from Alaska. The Iris Versicolor--a New England flag iris in beautiful lavenders and blues. There was the yellow Siberian he had hybridized. It was hard to remember them all. I made a list in my mind.

As he and his dad were digging my "must-haves", I saw another one--so many subtle colors. What was it? Could I have some? Now when I first started buying iris I didn't care about the names--if it was pretty I wanted it. Until I discovered that I had purchased the same lavender iris three years in a row. As the son said, it proves I know what I like--but still.... So now I try to label all my flowers just so I know. I snapped a picture of the mystery iris.

Exquisite isn't it? Alas the label had fallen off this one. The son is getting some advanced degree and isn't around all the time anymore. He said it was by Schafer-Sacks. Same family as Banish Misfortune, Sun Comes Up, Here Comes Dragons. Aren't those names great? Now I confess I didn't recognize the name Schafer-Sacks though I frequent their web site http://www.jpwflowers.com all the times. Do check it out. Aren't they gorgeous?

I mentioned that I loved Sarah Tiffany--yup, the same breeder. Careless Sally. Again. It turns out Schafer-Sacks had been breeding Siberian iris and got some unusual results. They kept pushing these results until they got some very distinctive iris. Roaring Jelly--yes, I have that one also. Mad Magenta.

What fun the challenge is identifying this iris. I get on the internet. What are the colors of each part of the iris? Oh there is so much to learn. Yes, I think this one is Salamander Crossing. Great name. But then I discover another problem. I have this iris labeled In Full Sail--but In Full Sail is yellow. OK. What can it be? Look at that hint of blue in the center. The many different colors. The prominent veins. The hint of a ruffle. So much to note.

Clearly it is not Sun Comes Up. Look at the different colors. The center here is not white but almost lavender.

Maybe Echo the Sun. Oh so much to learn.  I must examine it more carefully. Look at some more pictures. What fun it is. Being forced to pay close attention to detail. Knowing that there is a style--part of a series--but then trying to distinguish it.

Interestingly I receive an e-mail from a fan this week. She had seen my quilt prairie dawn in The Art Quilt Collection. See this really is a blog about quilts--it just sometimes take me a while to get there. Anyhow, her question to herself was why did this quilt look so familiar. After all, she is from Florida. Never seen my work in person. Then she realized that I had also written an article in Threads magazine way back in 1999.  She was still making the little purses that I showed in that article. Isn't that cool? I  confess her e-mail made my day. Not because I am still making those little purses--I have redesigned them. Nor because I am still making quilts like prairie dawn--I am trying to explore other concepts. But because my quilts are recognizable.

Among all the quiltmakers out there, she knows it is mine. Isn't that great? Isn't that what having a style is all about? Taking a concept and exploring it--seeing where it leads. Not because you can't do other styles--make other pieces--but because there is something very powerful in paying such close attention to detail and pushing the envelope. Schafer-Sacks now have the most wonderful iris in cinnamon and whiskey, a warm rose plum. My wish list is growing. I must find out if their garden is ever open to the public. I really should join my local iris society--maybe they offer tours.

And you--do you work on a consistent style? Do you keep pushing the envelope? Do you even think that is important? And what is your favorite iris?