The fall bulb packages have arrived, nearly submerged under a high tide of holiday catalogs. Since I have long since forgotten most of what I ordered at various times during the summer, the boxes are full of glorious surprises. Unpacking them gives me a feeling akin to opening the boxes of Christmas ornaments in December. The pressure is the same too—Christmas ornaments have to be unpacked, and decked around the halls, while bulbs have to be buried in the ground before it freezes into concrete.
Last spring, when I looked enviously at my neighbors’ tulips, I vowed to invest in a few of my own. To facilitate the triumph of hope over tulip experience, mine will grow in pots on the porch, far from the marauding animals that dig and eat the bulbs, or nip off the young shoots in the spring. No deer has yet climbed the porch steps, though we have a squirrel that amuses himself by excavating the geranium pots. I will treat the tops of the tulip planters with deer spray just to deter that squirrel and any of his relatives with similar ideas.
The tulips include the pristine, white-flowered ‘Maureen’, and the pale purple and white fringed tulip ‘Cummins’, with its dark heart. In the heirloom realm, I also invested in Tulipa clusiana, which dates back to at least 1607, and has pointed red and white petals. I will certainly lift and store it after bloom time next spring, as species tulips often rebloom year after year. ‘Maureen’ grows tall and white, striped with cream. It should be a good foil for the exotically fringed ‘Black Parrot’, which isn’t really black, but darkest maroon. All the tulips will work well together when I mass their containers on the porch.
Crocuses please my frugal nature because you can buy lots of them for relatively little money. They also are among the first surprises of the new growing season, popping up just when you are ready to give up hope that winter will ever end. I will be planting the golden orange ‘Orange Monarch’, which is flamed with dark maroon. ‘Zwanenberg’, with its mauve and darker purple striations, will be a vibrant contrast. ‘King of the Striped’, an old, purple-striped variety is one of my favorites. Being a large-flowered crocus, it blooms later than little ‘Cream Beauty’, which is white and winsome.
I order hyacinths every year because they smell divine. First year hyacinths are always plump and handsome, while their longer-established siblings tend to become a bit more sparsely flowered as the years go by. Earlier this year my Victorian self reasserted dominance in the garden realm and I chose two double-flowered varieties, the rosy ‘Chestnut Flower’ and fluffy white ‘Madam Sophie’. In spring I prop up their fat flower stalks with small stakes and clip one or two for the house. Any more than that and the aroma is too much for the average room or the average nasal passages.
I love blue, but have never before indulged in camassia, a native plant bearing medium to tall stalks adorned with feathery blue flowers. I don’t know why I waited so long, because I have admired camassia in botanical gardens and recommended them to friends. Now the bulb boxes hold a few camassia and they will go into the grounds as soon as I can find a few minutes and a trowel. If they succeed, I anticipate that it will be the start of a new obsession.
Fall is also the time to plant some of the showier lilies and I need more of those, despite the fact that the deer like to nip off the delectable buds. I will counter that with a strong will, a supply of deer spray, and some additional ‘regal lilies or Lilium regale. These gorgeous Chinese lilies, beloved of mid twentieth century garden writer/bon vivant Beverley Nichols, grow between five and six feet tall. The “regal” part comes from the enormous, trumpet-shaped flowers, which can be up to eight inches long. These marvels are white, with golden throats and a lovely fragrance. The outsides of the petals are flushed with maroon. Nichols grew armloads of them and gave them to fashionable friends like Noel Coward. I just want enough to enjoy the fragrance and wallow in a little of that glamour.
And, of course, I will have daffodils—many daffodils–to complement the many that I have already. Little yellow and white ‘February Silver’ may not bloom in February, but I know it will be among the earliest to appear. ‘Xit’ is even smaller—only four to six inches tall—but it is whiter than white and a joy to have in the garden. ‘Daphne’, an old-fashioned white double from the World War I era, is at the limit of its hardiness in my garden, but I will put it in a protected spot and hope for the best. ‘Van Sion’, loved since at least the 17th century, is a double yellow daffodil. Sometimes when the buds open, the doubled petals are confined within the cup. Other times, the entire flower looks like a mass of exploded petals. Both are lovely and I can’t wait to see how they will appear in my garden.
So now the loaded bulb boxes have been opened like the horticultural presents that they are. The bulbs await me and my trowel. As always, getting them in will be a race against the cold weather. Daffodils, lilies, camassia and crocuses will go first, followed at last by the tulips. Some years I have alternated turkey basting and bulb planting on Thanksgiving. This year I vow to be more organized. I will block out bits of time and dream of spring.