Irene and I will be heading over shortly to Exline Iris Garden in Berkeley Springs, where they have more 1,000 varieties of bearded iris spread over several acres.

We picked up a dozen or so new (for us) varieties during a visit last summer. None of those have bloomed yet this year, though some of them will over the next few weeks. What we’ve been seeing in bloom so far have been the returning iris which are strong and over their transplant shock.

Here are three others blooming today on top of the ones you’ve already seen.

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If you’re not interested in gardening neepery, you might have to avert your eyes the next week or so, as I’ll be sharing more flower photos as the buds begin to pop.

Here’s the second iris to show its face in the garden, somewhat similar to the one I posted yesterday, but tending toward purple rather than brown. I’m hoping for two more varieties to burst tomorrow, one yellow, the other white, with the salmon-colored ones coming over the weekend.

We’ll probably be visiting Exline Iris Garden Sunday to check out their display—because it’s never too early to start thinking about the 2011 garden!

I went out after dinner and deadheaded another 217 daffodils, bringing the total snipped to 4,973, with no more than a dozen left. Daffodil season is now basically done, and it’s time for the garden to yield to other stars.

It’s interesting how the twin blizzards affected both the high point and the end of the daffodil season this year. Due to the blanket of snow, sometimes reaching four feet, the daffodils were insulated from winter, and kept warm, and ended up hitting their peak about 10 days earlier than usual. The same thing happened at the end of the season, since we normally have daffodils until May 15, and here it is the 5th and we have only a few left. I’m assuming (and hoping) it all returns to normal next year.

The bamboo, on the other hand, was unaffected by the snow, and began to send up new shoots around the same time it always does.

With daffodil season ending, we’re now at the start of iris season. We already had many iris in the ground, but last year added several hundred more, not all of which will bloom their first year. One of our veterans, though, has just begun its display.

I’ll share the other varieties as they begin to burst. (more…)

Today has turned into a day of many firsts. (And the day isn’t even halfway done.)

The first iris of the season is almost completely open. The first hummingbird moth was spotted poking about in our annuals. And, making us smile the most, the first box turtle woke from its winter’s sleep and started wandering our garden.

As soon as I snapped its photo, the shy thing padded off to hide under the deck where it could avoid the paparazzi. But considering how many times we saw turtles last year, we have hopes it will be back … along with its cousins.

While wandering through our daffodils, I came across another sign of Spring. The moss, having greened up nicely over the past week or so, has now begun to sprout.

Here’s a worm’s eye view of the mossy forest:

Only a handful of the many thousands of daffodils which have been in bloom since mid-March remain, but there’s no reason to be sad, for that’s as it should be. Other blooms have just popped to take their turns coloring the garden.

The pink rhododendron by the front of the house began to burst at the end of last week, the many yellow, brown, and purple iris are standing tall all around the property, the bleeding hearts are showing why they got their name, and the lupins, which long before I’d ever seen an actual flower I only knew as a word in a Monty Python sketch, are showing off strong pink, yellow, red, and purple stalks.

But as much all as I love all of those (and the lupin could very well be my favorite flower), the blooms that fascinate me the most right now are those of the Allium Nectaroscordum, which are also known as Mediterranean Bells. Up until two years ago, I’d only ever known the sort of allium that looks like a purple pom-pom, but then I discovered these bulbs in a local gardening store and was attracted to their weird, delicate look. They almost seem alien, and so I picked them up immediately. Their odd bells can now be found atop three-foot stalks rising out of the beds where the daffodils had previously bloomed.

Next in line to bloom—the poppies.

Even though it’s long past Easter by the calendar, it’s always Easter on our West Virginia island, as you can see by the daffodil that just popped by our moai. Though I’ve visited all seven continents, making it to Easter Island is one of those dreams I’ve yet to fulfill, and so I set up a pretend piece of that faraway land about 400 feet out back from the house, just before you get near the area with the bamboo and the Buddha.

As you can see here, the daffodils continue to explode. We had 1,494 in bloom yesterday, he admitted sheepishly. (As I’ve said, I do count them every few days, because I’m perversely interested in the bell curve of the blooming season.)

Just to torture Paul Riddell, who has been bemoaning his fallow Spring, here’s a photo I snapped of some of our daffodils yesterday afternoon, when we had 846 blooms scattered about the acreage. (And yes, I counted them!)

Those of you who are interested can check here for further daffodil images.

The only drawback to heading off for Salt Lake City tomorrow to attend the World Horror Convention is the timing of it—by leaving home during the last weekend in March, I’ll miss the biggest explosion of daffodils our garden gets. Oh, we’ll have blooms through mid-May, since over the years we’ve planted many different types of daffodils, so it isn’t as if I’m losing out on the season completely, but the difference between your average March 27 and April 1 is amazing.

As you can see, the Dutch Masters (what used to be called King Alfreds) just started to pop today, joining the Tete-a-Tetes that began to bloom a week and a half ago. I counted the blooms this afternoon, as I do from time to time, and we had 220 daffodils brightening up the acreage today. We’ll likely have an increase of at least another 500 over those few days.

I’ll miss seeing the daily, sometimes hourly, changes to the landscape that—forget the calendar—are the true sign that Spring is here. Gardeners will understand. But for the chance to attend another Stoker banquet as a nervous nominee … well … I guess the daffodils will just have to take care of themselves until I get back.

I’m in the midst of the deadline crunch on the next issue of SCI FI magazine at the moment, so I was only able to spare a few minutes outside wandering our property today. I’m lucky that I managed to get out there, or else I would have missed one of my favorite moments of the year.

Thanks to the high temperatures, the first daffodil of the season popped open this afternoon, a tiny Tete-a-Tete. I’ve always found something hopeful about daffodils, which is why I spend much of my October and November each year digging them in. Looking forward to them always makes Winter zip by.

By the end of the month, we’ll have hundreds of daffodils in bloom, and by the middle of April, perhaps thousands. But the first is always special.