Life must be filled up

Picture on LJ.

In spite of Storm Dennis, I have a row of miniature daffodils flowering in front of the shed. I can see them from the house and very cheerful they look but I think that, like the snowdrops, they’re best appreciated indoors, where I can really look at them. I planted various varieties in that narrow bed years ago and they’re amazing. It’s the place I plant out seedling foxgloves when they’re big enough and when transplanting, I often disturb the daffodil bulbs. I just push them back into the soil with my finger and up they come again the next year. So much pleasure from an inexpensive bag of dry bulbs.

daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty;

Shakespeare’s daffodils wouldn’t have been like the ones in our gardens; more like those Wordsworth wrote about, I imagine. The principle remains though: however foul the weather, the daffodils don’t fail us. There are masses of daffodils of the larger type in my garden but they’re not out yet. They were all here when I moved in. The miniature ones I planted myself, in front of the potting shed, where they do very well. I had to cut this little beauty because I wasn’t prepared to lie down on wet grass just to get a photo.

Yesterday was a glorious spring day and I could garden outside feeling the warmth of the sun. Today we’re back to the November-like murk which has plagued us for the past week. But still there are daffodils. By the end of their season, I always feel they have delighted us long enough, but it’s worth waiting for the late flowering of the beautiful Pheasant’s Eye type, as shown in the userpic.

Our annual spring flower show today and this exhibit (from our Secretary) won best bloom in show.



The show wasn’t very well supported, I don’t know how much longer we can keep going with it. Sad.

Outside it’s very frosty and cold. Inside, I have flowers.



The trumpets aren’t orange; it’s a trick of the light. They're miniature daffodils which I bought in pots at the market. I'm cutting the flowers as they open (the pots are ugly) and later I'll put the bulbs in the garden. Win!

It was on the news this morning that the late spring means a shortage of daffodils. Really? They're still a pound a bunch from Tesco's, so you can have LOTS.

Today's the day of the annual Spring Show of our local horticultural society. Nothing grand but some extraordinary skill shown to get daffodils of show quality (RHS rules) when most of the garden ones are nearly over. Above: the show bench. ( see more )

Of course, it rained all day yesterday, so no gardening got done. Today all I managed was to deadhead the daffodils which needed it. I wish other people would follow my good example. Daffodils delight us long enough as it is and the sight of dead ones is grim indeed.

The new usericon is Tulip 'Ballerina'. (It's actually a subtler colour than the pic suggests, with more orange in it.) This is currently my utter favourite, partly because it has actually survived our clay soil and armies of slugs to come up three years in a row. Last year I had wonderful wallflowers with it, which was quite a Riot of Spring but, as reported earlier, there are no walflowers this year. I have spent a fortune in the past on tulips, especially the lovely Viridiflora ones, but they shine for a season and then succumb. Some people hold that you should lift all tulips, dry them off and store for replanting. This is supposed to prevent disease but who can possibly have the time or space? I'm sure mine would rot rather than dry.

I absolutely love species tulips and have grown quite a few in the past, usually in pots. Tulipa acuminata is a gorgeous little thing with narrow, pointed petals flamed red and yellow. Tulipa clusiana (named for the Dutch botanist Clusius) is a very pretty pink and white. For a rockery, if you have one, Tulipa batalinii (I suspect this has been reclassified as something else) is fab: I love the form 'Apricot Jewel'.

Heigh ho, every year I drool over the catalogues and resolve that next year I will have more tulips. The problem is planting. With daffodils, the earlier you get them planted, the better, so you can do the job in pleasant September sunshine. Tulips are the opposite and too often foul weather in November/December means soggy ground and, I'm ashamed to say, sometimes tulips I have bought remain in the shed, unplanted.

For people who like to read about plants, Anna Pavord's book The Tulip tells you everything you could want to know about tulips and their history and has some ravishing illustrations.