Right now it is gray, drippy and chilly outside my window. Even though the last roses are still shivering on the bushes, I feel starved for color. Grabbing at emotional straws, I peer hopefully through the mist for the new growth on the scarlet willow or Salix alba var. vitellina ‘Britzensis’—but the little tree does not seem to have its usual bright red coloring. I need something cheerful to look at and think about while I consider the gnawed remains of the large, colorful ornamental cabbage that I put out in front of the house. Either I raise my spirits now or I will go on a search and destroy mission for the groundhog that gorged on the frilly leaves.
Fortunately, the necessary spirit-raisers are already here, perched on a shelf in my foyer. They are tucked inside the boxes of spring bulbs that have been delivered over the past week. Though not colorful by themselves, the little brown orbs hold the promise of spring fireworks. I can’t plant them during today’s installment of the fall monsoon, but just looking at the packages and reading the descriptions is enough to give me at needed boost.
The first bags hold a daffodil called ‘Feu de Joie’ or ‘Fire of Joy’ in English. The variety has a fancy French name, but was actually bred in England in the 1920’s. It is everything that is bright and frivolous, with pale yellow, frilly petals around a vibrant orange cup. It is the antithesis of the more formal, upright daffodils that are everywhere in the spring. In fact, it seems to have the free-spirited nature that most of us have had to put on hold in the time of COVID.
Continuing with the sunny theme, I pull out the bag of ‘Sun Disc’ daffodils. These bulbs grow into relatively small plants, reaching only eight to 12 inches tall—perfect for planting around the bases of trees, in containers or in the fronts of sunny beds. ‘Sun Disc’ lives up to its name, with the flowers formed in perfect circles of rounded yellow petals and darker golden cups. My Zoom-wearied eyes can see them now, possibly around one of my standard rose-of-Sharon tress, which will be doing nothing in the spring except creating a center for the daffodil circle.
I cannot ignore the voracious animals that populate my property, so I will grow tulips in pots again next spring. That restriction has not prevented me from ordering the most cheerful varieties I could think of. ‘Willem van Oranje’ or ‘William of Orange’ is an absolutely gorgeous orange-peach tulip with a flashy array of double petals. It blooms early in the tulip season and might even appear along with the late daffodils. The containers of tulips will spend the winter in my unheated garage, but will reappear in spring to open in glory on my back porch. ‘Willem’s petals will glow like flames just outside the back door.
Parrot-type tulips feature frilled petals that are striped, flamed or otherwise marked with contrasting colors. They sing in the garden like operatic divas, making it impossible not to notice them. ‘Estella Rijnveld’, which I included in my bulb order, is a delirious combination of bold red and white stripes on frilled, double petals. It borders on the blowsy, but I don’t care and I don’t think I will care next spring either. Subtlety is not for people who have been living indoors under restrictions.
I always order hyacinths. Even if they looked like nothing at all, they smell divine. My bulb shipment includes three: yellow-flowered ‘City of Haarlem’; soft pink ‘Chestnut Flower’, with double petals; and another double, blue-flowered ‘General Kohler’. I always pull out a few hyacinths to put in the fridge and force for end-of-winter color and scent. In my present frame of mind, I think ‘City of Haarlem’ will do the job nicely.
Of course, I still have time to get down to the garden center and buy a few more packages of bulbs before they are moved to the extreme rear of the greenhouse to make way for the holiday decorations. Often the most outrageous varieties are among the leftovers. If so, they will go directly into my basket.
Normally I like to wear tasteful, neutral colors that express my cautious personality and uneventful day-to-day life, but today I found myself reaching into the sweater drawer for a bright red number to brighten up the here and now. If I wrap myself in color and surround myself with bulbs that promise a brilliant spring, I can get through another soggy fall day. Every little bit helps.