"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

White Iris Mysteries (2 of 2)

From “White Flags” in Garden Bulbs for the South by Scott Ogden:

“The first perennial irises to bloom in spring are several antique bearded types of dwarfish stature…. The ‘beards’ of these species are formed by long rows of feathery stamens, which mark the centers of the three outer petals, or falls. The inner petals, or standards, curve upward and inward to create the familiar fleur-de-lis seen as a motif in historic art and architecture….

“The most familiar of the historic irises in the South is the old white flag,
Iris albicans. The Latin epithet, which translates as ‘off-white,’ was given to plants found growing in Spain during the mid-1800s. Although these irises are now common waifs in many warm countries, their original homeland appears to be on the Arabian Peninsula. Tradition holds that the Moors carried this iris wherever they traveled in conquest, planting the flowers as memorials on the graves of fallen Muslim soldiers….

“When Spanish colonists came to Florida and Mexico, they brought this Mediterranean flower with them and continued the tradition of planting them in cemeteries. These are now the most common irises in the South.

“The leaden flowers and gray, sword-shaped leaves of
Iris albicans line paths and fill graveyards and vacant fields in March. They are often accompanied by early blue flags, thought to be variants of the same species: on some occasions a blue flower may be seen sporting from the side of an old clump of white I. albicans….

“For as long as
Iris albicans has been in gardens, it has suffered confusion with a near relation, the pale white I. florentina (Florentine iris). This famous plant is the preferred source of orris, a fixative used in the perfume industry…. This iris is still raised for this purpose in Tuscany….

“The Florentine iris differs from
Iris albicans in its taller, more open spikes of bloom. These carry papery bracts that often dry and turn brown by the time the flowers open. Although the blossoms are larger than those of I. albicans, they open sparsely and are less effective in the garden….

“Early garden writers described
Iris florentina as a natural species, but botanists now regard it as an ancient hybrid. Like I. albicans, it has a blue variant. Although less common and prolific in Southern gardens than the early flags, I. florentina tolerates the climate better than many modern bearded irises. It appears occasionally in old gardens and may be seen blooming in April, several weeks after I. albicans finishes for the season.”


Hello!

This is the second of two posts with photographs of white irises that I took at Oakland Cemetery earlier this year. The first post is White Iris Mysteries (1 of 2), where I dug into how the names of white irises like these have evolved, from their historically early designation as Iris florentina through many intervening variations to the widely accepted name Iris albicans, then back to Iris florentina again. You might wonder why anyone would even do that research — I know I wondered! But as the picture became clearer, I realized I had unexpectedly come across an event that is rare for someone who is not a scientist, nor a naturalist, nor formally trained as a botanist to encounter: the reclassification of a plant species that was in progress, one not yet universally accepted by experts in the field.

While I’ve often encountered historically varying plant names and written about them here, the context was typically associated with past events: a plant got named decades or centuries ago based on its visual or environmental characteristics or its cultural significance, then got renamed subsequently as more information became available through additional exploration, discovery, and scientific analysis — all stemming from the way knowledge advances in concentric circles or connected spirals rather than in a strictly linear fashion.

For my purposes here, identifying a plant and researching its name changes provided a way to develop a partial and condensed story suitable for writing about on a blog — as opposed, say, to the entire chapters in botany books that might be devoted to seminal events where nomenclature changes occurred. The identification served me as an anchor for a story, that anchor pointed toward other names and other threads I could explore, and I’d pick a few of those threads to pursue and write about them here.

What we have with Iris florentina is a little different than that: the kind of anchor I’m used to launching my research from has been replaced by a contemporary rather than historical event, and it’s just unfolded recently. Its recency is reflected in the excerpt I included at the top of this post — which shows that when Scott Ogden published his book Garden Bulbs for the South in 2007, the plant commonly observed as a White Flag or Cemetery Iris in the southeast could have been either Iris florentina or Iris albicans.

The author goes into a lot of detail (part of which I excerpted last year to support my original identification) about what allegedly separates the two species, encompassing historical understanding of their visual and structural differences — which are now believed to reflect variations based on the plants’ propagation under different growing or overall environmental conditions. That section of his book would have to be rewritten now to accommodate how Kew Plants of the World Online has collapsed the two species into one by treating Iris albicans as a synonym of Iris florentina rather than a separate species. But that part of the story can’t yet be fully told: what I uncovered in the first post establishes a marker reflecting the recent reclassification, something I plan to take another look at when — as is likely — I photograph these white irises again in 2027 and can assess how widely accepted Kew’s reclassification has been, or if the debate “rages on.”

Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading and taking a look!










White Iris Mysteries (1 of 2)

From “Iris florentina” in Classic Irises and the Men and Women Who Created Them by Clarence Mahan:

“One iris was an important economic commodity in centuries past: Iris florentina. The story of Iris florentina is fascinating and complex. The complexity of the history of Iris florentina stems both from the existence of a widely distributed imposter and from taxonomic reclassification.

“The authority of taxonomists is an awesome power for advancing our knowledge of the physical world. But taxonomists are not immune from errors of fact or judgment. This is exemplified by the history of
Iris florentina. The history of Iris florentina is also evidence of the wisdom of the illustrious 15th-century Florentine architect Leon Battista Alberti who observed that ‘nothing overshadows truth so much as authority’….

“During the Middle Ages the city of Florence became famous for three products: gold coins, fine silks, and orris root. The Florentines, who seldom missed an economic opportunity, were known to sell the finest quality orris root. It was made from white irises grown on the hillsides of Tuscany. These white irises owed their fame and their name to the city of Florence….

Linnaeus described and named the white bearded iris in 1759. He gave it the name
Iris florentina, which is what herbalists had been calling it for at least two-hundred years.

Pierre Joseph Redoute painted the first detailed and botanically accurate picture of
Iris florentina. Redoute’s painting was reproduced in Les Liliacees, often considered the finest set of botanical prints ever produced, in 1802….”

From “Iridaceae: Iris albicans Lange” in  P. J. Redoute Lilies and Related Flowers by Brian Mathew:

“It is unfortunate that the plant illustrated so beautifully by Redoute was not the same plant as the Florentine Iris, from the rhizome of which the perfume and medicinal agent known as orrisroot was obtained. The plate actually depicts an Arabian species, which was later described by J.M.C. Lange as Iris albicans. The true Florentine Iris is the more well known of the two and is also white-flowered, but is almost certainly nothing more than a colour form of the common Iris germanica and not a distinct species….”

From “White Pigeons” by Laura Maner Sams Sanders in The Yearbook of Contemporary Poetry 1936, edited by Margaret Nelson:

Today I saw white pigeons fly
O’er a snowy dogwood tree.
The background was a slaty sky,
With white clouds, foaming mistily.

White, densely foliaged Cherokees
Were blooming on a near-by fence.
Among them supped the honey bees,
Enjoying their fresh fragrance.

White irises on cool green stems
Were gleaming in the shady light.
Each flower held clear, dewy gems.
A symphony in green and white.

O’er this space of white and green
Six pigeons chose to wing their way.
As if to help complete the scene,
And add more beauty to the day.


Hello!

This is the first of two posts with photographs of white irises that I took at Oakland Cemetery earlier this year. Oakland’s white irises are among the first irises to appear in March or as early as February, continuing to bloom for six to eight weeks, with a few exuberant ones making an appearance well into the summer if their growing conditions permit. The poem I included above describes one of their key visual characteristics — white gleaming even in shady light — and they tend to be visible from great distances because of that glow and their presence on a landscape not yet quite filled with spring color. The poem also highlights the color white’s appearance in other parts of the scene it describes, including the blooms of a Cherokee Rose — a plant I photographed at Oakland around the same time (see Rosa laevigata, the Cherokee Rose (1 of 2)).

I wrote about these white irises last year as part of a series of posts (see Natureโ€™s Palette: Exploring Iris Colors, Their Culture, and Their History (6 of 10)) and identified them there as Iris albicans. While that identification is still not inaccurate (!!), it doesn’t reflect the intricate history of this plant’s names, something that became apparent to me when I tried to follow a link I’d included to a Wikipedia page about Iris albicans. The linked page — originally “https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iris_albicans” — no longer exists, and Wikipedia instead redirects automatically to its Iris florentina page instead.

Now, while it’s true that my approach to this blog has evolved into an informal “take pictures and teach yourself botany” methodology, it struck me as unlikely that I wouldn’t have noticed that an Iris albicans Wikipedia search took me to a plant with a different name entirely. By digging around in the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine, I found a snapshot of the article I’d originally linked to dated October 2025, shown here…

… where you can see a note that says “It has been suggested that this article be merged into Iris florentina” near the top of the page. As good news to this amateur botanist, the snapshot of an October 2025 Iris albicans page meant that when I had previously linked to it — in June 2025 — it did indeed exist on Wikipedia. Nevertheless, this recent and very deliberate name change struck me as an emerging mystery that I needed to dig into.

As I’ve mentioned here many times, I use PlantNet to try to identify plants I photograph at Oakland, then use other resources to support PlantNet’s suggestions. PlantNet anchors its identification intelligence around various floras — roughly, geographic regions aligned with the body of native plants typically found there — so I uploaded four of these white iris photos to see what PlantNet had to say about them, using the Southeastern U.S. Flora (because that’s the region where I photographed the plants).

As you can see from this screenshot, PlantNet only identifies these white irises by their genus name Iris — something that happens mainly because they’re not native flora in my southeastern corner of the United States. This isn’t too unusual, and it’s often true for plants I find specifically at Oakland where — reflecting its Victorian history — the plant residents include a wide variety of non-native species whose ancestors would have been imported in the nineteenth century when gardens and garden cemeteries like this were being established. And in this case, PlantNet provides a useful message explaining that “A similar-looking species has been detected in another flora” with a handy button to click to identify the same images in World Flora encompassing the whole natural world.

Based on what I thought I knew about these irises, I would have expected PlantNet’s World Flora to tell me they were Iris albicans, as I identified them in 2025, but their identity comes up as Iris florentina instead:

So now I have two data points sending me away from Iris albicans toward Iris florentina; or, in the words of Rabbit from Pooh’s Heffalump Movie: “What we have here is a mystery of the most mysterious kind.”

Resolving (or merely understanding) the mystery took me back to the fifteenth century, where — as the first quote at the top of this post explains — the original plant name Iris florentina derives from the connections between the plant’s native presence around Florence and the commercial development of orris root for medicinal use in Italy. The blending of botanical and economic disciplines often lends weight to the cultural significance of plant families and species, and Iris florentina fits that model: the plant became widely studied and appeared in art and literature, such as in the Portinari Altarpiece painting from the 1470s where it carries significant religious symbolism. By the 1800s when botanical artist P. J. Redoute famously attributed a white iris drawing as Iris florentina in the first volume of his Les liliacees series (you can see the drawing here), the name was well entrenched for similar-looking white irises (in part from Redoute’s influence as an illustrator), even as botanists began to suggest other potential names and species differentiations for various observed white irises.

That helps explain why the definitive-sounding cliffhanger at the end of the Mahan excerpt above can be contradicted by the second excerpt from Brian Mathew’s book P. J. Redoute Lilies and Related Flowers, where Mathew stakes a different claim: that Redoute’s Iris florentina is actually a drawing of Iris albicansIris albicans being one of several names proposed for these white irises in the decades after Redoute published his Iris florentina drawing. But with discussion over whether these irises should be called Iris florentina, Iris albicans, or grouped with Iris germanica spanning both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Mathew’s claim isn’t the last word either — a conclusion we can safely derive from my discovery of the recent Wikipedia article switch-up and unexpected PlantNet results.

Both the Wikipedia article and PlantNet’s floras use Kew’s Plants of the World Online for plant scientific names and plant family relationships (or taxonomies), and Kew now treats the name Iris albicans as a synonym for Iris florentina rather than as a separate species…

… supporting that conclusion with research produced as recently as 2024. So we have, in effect, returned irises of a particular species to their earlier European names and collapsed two species of irises into one — which means that the cultural, botanical, and historical threads of Iris florentina and Iris albicans are now intertwined.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!













Iris domestica: From Summer to Fall (4 of 4)

From “The Flowery Land” in Gifts from the Gardens of China by Jane Kilpatrick:

“It was during the peace and prosperity of the Tang period (AD 618-907) that the Chinese people first really had the security and leisure to devote themselves to gardens and to the cultivation of an expanding range of ornamental plants. In addition to the peach and the apricot, several other flowering trees became popular, although this was probably as much due to their mythological attributes and practical uses, as to their flowers and handsome shapes….

“Shrubs seem to have been uncommon in gardens before the seventh century, although
Weigela florida was sometimes used as a hedge plant, but references to the beauty and flowering season of magnolias, daphnes and hibiscus indicate that these very attractive plants were being brought into cultivation by this time. Herbaceous peonies (Paeonia lactiflora) were already favourite ornamentals, as were annuals such as the Chinese Pink and the Chinese Aster (Dianthus chinensis and Callistephus chinensis); but many plants grown as ornamentals today, such as the Tiger Lily (Lilium lancifolium), the Leopard or Blackberry Lily (Belamcanda chinensis) and daylilies, were still principally grown for their medicinal rather than their decorative qualities.”

From “The Story of the Fire Lily” in Someone Cares: The Collected Poems of Helen Steiner Rice by Helen Steiner Rice:

The crackling flames rise skyward
as the waving grass is burned,
But from the fire on the veld
a great truth can be learned…
For the green and living hillside
becomes a funeral pyre
As all the grass across the veld
is swallowed by the fire…
What yesterday was living,
today is dead and still,
But soon a breathless miracle
takes place upon the hill…
For, from the blackened ruins
there arises life anew
And scarlet lilies lift their heads
where once the veld grass grew
And so again the mystery
of life and death is wrought,
And man can find assurance
in this soul-inspiring thought,
That from a bed of ashes
the fire lilies grew….


Hello!

This is the fourth of four posts with photos of Iris domestica, and the second post with photos of Iris domestica ‘Hello Yellow’. The previous posts are Iris domestica: From Summer to Fall (1 of 4), Iris domestica: From Summer to Fall (2 of 4), and Iris domestica: From Summer to Fall (3 of 4).

I took the photos in the galleries below at Oakland Cemetery on June 21 and July 17, so they show the plant’s transition from its primary blooming period to the second phase where it produces seed capsules. You can see this transition about halfway through the galleries, starting with the photographs of the capsules, which show how this cultivar maintains quite a few flowers even as it starts generating seeds. When I went back in October to photograph the blackberries Iris domestica typically produces that I showed in the first post, however, only the orange-spotted variety had blackberries; those of Hello Yellow had already been dispersed. Together these characteristics suggest that Hello Yellow may have a more condensed reproductive cycle — moving from flower to capsule, blackberry development, and seed dispersal over a shorter time frame — but that could also reflect different environmental conditions, or simply that Hello Yellow was new to Oakland this year and may still be establishing its own rhythms.

The two varieties’ overall growth pattern is also quite different. The first two photos below show a typical group of orange-spotted Iris domestica, which produces fewer plants in any given location that tend to be spread up to a foot apart. This more solitary arrangement may indicate that the plant has evolved to disperse over wider areas — something that’s closer to its wild or native origins — which I observe by finding these orange flowers scattered throughout Oakland. Hello Yellow, on the other hand — as shown in the second two photos — has been bred to produce plants that grow in compact masses: the number of flowers and leaves in any square foot of the garden leaves little space between them as each plant produces crowded clusters of flowers. While both plants will present opened and unopened flowers while they’re blooming, these photos illustrate how differently they’re arranged, from a handful of flowers on each orange Iris domestica stem to Hello Yellow having so many flowers per stem that it’s hard to count them individually.

Because of these distinct growth patterns, the orange Iris domestica appear throughout Oakland as transitional plants marking the boundaries of roadways and blending among other plants, where their bright orange flowers draw your eye toward them and their immediate surroundings. But as we can see from this photo, Hello Yellow, by contrast, produces densely packed leaves topped with bright yellow flowers that are visible from a long distance, making them integral components of a memorial scene:

These Hello Yellow cultivars are growing in one of the many raised sections of the cemetery, about three feet above the roadways that surround it (a very handy position for photographers), and constrained on all sides by a stone wall. When you face that particular plot, you first see the low, soft textures and colors of Lamb’s Ear, which allow shorter memorial markers to remain visible even as Hello Yellow consumes more territory but doesn’t displace the smaller plants. Hello Yellows grow abundantly behind the Lamb’s Ear bunches, where they come close to matching the height of taller gravestones, as well as those in the background, but don’t detract from them visually.

Arrangements like these are not accidental: it’s apparent from their visual characteristics that Oakland’s landscape designers chose these plants intentionally, to provide different visual layers to the scene as time passes and to blend these plants with the immovable parts of their surroundings — like the memorial stones and even the remains of an old tree trunk whose dark colors provide additional contrast for the scene. Given its origins in seventh-century China (as explained in the excerpt from Gifts from the Gardens of China above), Iris domestica (in all its forms) seems especially appropriate for historical garden settings like this, but we’ll have to wait until next year to see if Hello Yellow takes after its orange relative and ventures beyond its present borders.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!