Fall is fast approaching, and it is time to order or purchase spring-flowering bulbs. The catalogs have been with us since the tulips were finishing this past spring, but I set them aside because I don’t like racing the season. This is also why I refuse to buy Halloween candy in August, even as it takes over store shelves.
I always order bulbs and I generally order too many, which means that I will always have to alternate the last of the bulb planting with turkey basting on Thanksgiving or present wrapping during the holiday season. It doesn’t matter. In spring all of that frantic digging will have been forgotten.
This year I have a new challenge. The four ailing hollies that were removed from the south side of my property in April have left a large planting area in need of spring bulbs. I have already busied myself installing perennials, shrubs and small trees, but I can’t bear the thought of looking out the window next March and not seeing crocuses, daffodils and all their spring-flowering traveling companions.
All bulbs are more expensive this year, even the little ones like crocus and chionodoxa that used to be my go-tos for cheap color. That means getting bang for my buck and ordering larger numbers to take advantage of volume discounts. I have decided that I want a yellow, blue and white color scheme for the spring bulbs that will match the predominating hues in the rest of the front garden.
I will start the season with Crocus tommasianus ‘Hummingbird’, a new variety of an old favorite. ‘Hummingbird’ is a lovely shade of what the vendor calls “suffuse lilac”. The online photo makes it look as if it leans to the blue side of the blue-purple spectrum. I can get 100 of them for $16.75. Planted in groups of five, seven or nine, it should take no time at all to install them. Blessings abound with the tommasianus species. The little flowers return faithfully and multiply quickly. In my yard, tommasianus crocuses are occasionally subject to acts of squirrel landscaping. They come up wherever the squirrels plant them and will multiply in those locations as well. I would like to follow on with some white, large-flowered Dutch crocuses. The hunt continues for a good variety.
Daffodils are invaluable for color and critter-resistance. In the showy, white-flowered category, there is nothing better than ‘Mount Hood’, introduced in 1921 and still among the most popular today. Cost consciousness will make me order 100 of those as well. Sanity will suggest planting them via the “lasagna method” at the same time as I install the crocuses. I always order a few of the more expensive heirloom varieties because they make my heart sing. My favorites are ‘Beersheba’, with an elegant, elongated ivory trumpet, and ‘Broughshane’, with a pure white perianth and a ruffled ecru trumpet.
I love the “poeticus” daffodils, with their tiny golden cups edged in red, juxtaposed against a wide rim of white petals. They are generally the last daffodils to bloom in the garden. This year I am intrigued by ‘St. Clair’, a double-flowered hybrid of the traditional poeticus daffodil and a double-flowered variety. It is white and frilly with a crowded cluster of yellow petaloids in the middle. I may take the plunge and order 50 of those.
Life would be incomplete without a few hyacinths. I wanted a good blue variety, and my favorite heirloom bulb catalog did not offer one for the first time in years. Fortunately, other catalogs offer better choices. I have ordered the relatively new, double-flowered ‘Royal Navy’, which has beautiful shading in each of the fluffy florets. To add to the blue spring show, I am also indulging in some English bluebells or Hyacinthoides non-scripta. These are the true type, not the related Spanish bluebells—Hyacinthoides hispanica, which are all over my backyard. I love the Spanish variety, but I have always wanted some English ones. I can get volume pricing on those as well.
Tulips are wonderful and if I had Jeff Bezos-type cashflow, I would order hundreds, regardless of price and the general unwillingness of tulips to return for a second and third year. I would also order some large dogs to work in shifts and deter the deer that love to snack on tulips. Alternately, I would have my minions construct an enclosed garden, surrounded by a high wall of rosy antique bricks and planted with thousands of tulips.
Since I have none of those things, I am still pondering tulips. If I indulge, it will be in Darwin hybrids, which experts agree are the most likely to rebloom after the first year. Planting them will mean committing myself to spraying the foliage with deer repellent the minute it appears and regularly thereafter until the last petal drops from the last tulip. Right now I am convinced that I am up to the job, but who knows what life will bring next spring? The debate between catalog fantasy and garden reality continues…
My imagination is working overtime right now, as is my credit card, but I know that when all the mental and financial cacophony is long past, I will hear my garden singing next spring. It will be worth it.