FOTD: Never enough

Species tulips are just as elegant and interesting as hybrid tulips, but they are small. You have to have a lot of them (sort of like crocus) and you have to observe which ones have the healthiest return rate throughout the seasons and plant more of those types.

Pictured above is humulis “Persian Pearl,” which is one of the most beautiful species out there. I love the combination of it and batalinii “Apricot Jewel,” below. That’s the other thing about species—they can bloom at any time between early April and late May depending on variety. Something else to watch.

And always plant more.

FOTD: Doubling up

Horticultural purists aren’t big fans of doubles. They feel hybridizers can unnecessarily complicate a simple form, making it fussy and ungainly. I don’t like all doubles, but I do enjoy double tulips. Most are scented and they seem to last longer that the singles, especially Black Hero, the double of Queen of the Night. The ones here are Montreaux, as forced by the local botanical gardens for their spring flower show. Double tulips, for the most part don’t seem to buckle under their own weight.

This can’t be said for double daffodils, which emerge earlier and can get clobbered by spring rains. They stems don’t hold up the way tulip stems do. I’ve had these Obdams for years, and they invariably end up face down in the mud. But they’re still lovely.

FOTD: Hellebores, again

A man walking by the house asked me about these today, and I was glad to talk about them. I now have ten, several of which have grown into fairly large clumps. But I never would have gotten addicted to them if not for three important factors:

-Interesting varieties in different colors and double forms are now commonly available, especially from Plant Delights, and they seem to be just as vigorous as the single whites I started out with. It looks like I have Onyx Odyssey and Kingston Cardinal, and (maybe) Ivory Prince, as well as some I can’t guess at.

 -They have a really long flowering period. They start in April (March this year) and the flowers hang on through June.

-They not only love shade, they can thrive in dry shade and compacted, root-ridden soil. 

 

I am considering carpeting the entire front garden in them. 

FOTD: Behold the Parrot

Over the top? Pushing the envelope? Gorgeous beyond belief? Parrot tulips are all that and more, and this is why it is mystifying to me why more gardeners don’t grow them.

It’s possible that parrots don’t return year after year like  … oh, that’s right, very few hybrid tulips return with regularity. Or maybe some feel they’re expensive? Yeah, that must be it—I’m sure I paid all of $8 for the group that yielded this bouquet.

Actually, I couldn’t care less if other gardeners embrace parrots. The only thing that will make me upset is if the demand gets so minimal that I can’t find them anymore. Expect organized dissent when that happens. As for these parrots, a blend from ColorBlends wholesale, they have more than fulfilled any and all expectations of pleasure that I ever expected. In fact, I’d be disappointed if they returned next year. It would lessen the drama.

Flower of the Day

For some time, I have been at a loss about how to invigorate this blog. I already post weekly on another, much more widely read blog, and—to be honest—the task of writing for this blog had become onerous. At best. How many blogs does one person need?

Indeed, in these days of Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest, do we need blogs at all? Maybe we don’t. But blogs are not really about need or readership. They just exist. This blog exists, and in order to keep it that way, I’ve decided to turn it into a project, namely the flower of a day project.

Today’s flower is a hellebore. A fancy one.

No bulb left behind

There are 920 in the house and 150 on the way. It’s kind of crazy, but many will not be going on the ground—they’ll be in big pots to be set out in spring and in smaller pots for forcing in the root cellar. Here’s what I’ve got: Temple of Beauty (top) will fill the two raised beds in front. Prinses Irene, Passionale, Orange Princess, Black Hero, Sensual Touch will be in big pots everywhere.

Oratorio, clusiana Chrysantha, dasystemon, humilis Magenta Queen, and Little Princess will go into the ground, along with some grape hyacinth.

Parrots, hyacinths (Hollyhock, Mulberry Rose, Madame Sophie), and tazettas (Erlicheer, Golden Rain, Grand Primo, Wintersun, Early Pearl) will be forced.

Then there are some Rose of May narcissus that I’m not sure what I’ll do with. It sounds like a ridiculous amount of bulbs. But it’s amazing how they get spread around—creating quite an ordinary display, when all’s said and done. I completely get how people can plant thousands without batting an eye.

When fall works …

Many gardeners say fall and spring are their favorite seasons. Not so with me. I like summer, the hotter the better, with the cicadas buzzing and the lilies filling the air with fragrance. Spring has its compensations (a huge box of which are sitting in my hallway waiting to be planted). So too, does fall, though it can be a somewhat melancholy season, especially when—as I discussed in the last post—the leaf color is compromised.

However, the foliage wasn’t a total wash. This is one of the benefits of fall—with not all that much going on in the garden, there’s time to take drives to where the foliage doesn’t suck, as well as visit some fall festivals. I do prefer the fall country festivals to the summer city ones, which tend to be too hot and crowded. Western New York has not one, but two Pumpkinvilles—the better of the two is south of Buffalo, in Great Valley. Thank god for non-orange pumpkins, or I would have gotten tired of these plants a long time ago.

Rural drives in the fall also offer great farm stand action, and random tableaux like this one. As for the garden, it’s about finished, with a frost expected tonight. Some flowers (the roses, and most annuals) have soldiered on through October, not seeming to realize summer is over. Next spring, I’ll plant more of the best cultivars, as well as try some roses in containers. And so the love/hate affair with roses continues! Another angst-filled saga—suitable for fall.