Maintaining the optimism of springtime as bulbs battle through
Gardening on the Edge by Diana Wayland
I sometimes wonder why I bother with some spring flowering bulbs. The snowdrops are robust and the daffodils massed along the drive seem impervious to both the gales and the bunnies.
Last year I bought some Crocus chrysanthus Blue Pearl bulbs and planted them in tubs either side of the house entrance, to extend the season of the Nepeta x fassenii already there. This ornamental form of catmint does very well in my windy locality. So well it has expanded from one plant to more than 10 – and a number given to friends as well.
The crocuses came up and flowered into beauty. Then the winds of March arrived. And rain. These beautiful flowers enjoyed one day of sunshine and then were battered into shreds.
Crocus flowers, unlike snowdrops and daffodils, need sunshine to open. And we had one day of it before they were battered and beaten. The Crocus tommasinianus that I found already growing here suffered likewise.
Crocus plants have a large upright flower, atop a rather flimsy stem. It is not surprising that strong winds and rain will knock them into the soil.
However, spring is progressing, albeit slowly. The tatties are now chitting and I will shortly be planting the onion setts in the greenhouse.
I have also managed to obtain some bare root trees and shrubs to plant in the large windbreak along our driveway. I had to send off for these; our local stockist being affected by the pandemic closures. But now they also got in some bare root stock and, happily, these are what I wanted but was unable to obtain online. So the race will be on to get these in!
The windbreak is edged with salix species obtained locally and planted as slips, again at this time of year, and bought Rosa rugosa which I noticed a while back seems to do well in our exposed location. The trees and shrubs I have just bought are to fill in this area to make a dense planting.
I am hoping to obtain more salix slips and start more windbreak drifts around our land. There may have never naturally been trees here but, even never meeting their usual potential, and carved and sculpted into interesting windblown shapes, there will be trees now!
Coming up now in our woodland grotto below Sitka spruce are wood anemones, wild garlic and woodruff. At the front near the Crocus tommasinianus are lesser celandine that I was afraid I had lost after a weasel decided to burrow a tunnel along the front of the grotto bed right where they were.
And every year along the fence by the drive two enchanting little blue-green Iris reticulata blossoms suddenly pop up, flower briefly, then abruptly vanish again. All before I get the chance to try and rescue them and replant them somewhere better. I never planted these. I admire their sheer pluck and resilience in persisting each year when choked by thick grass.
A fortnight after they were ravaged by the weather, some of the Blue Pearl have put up extra flower buds, and the blooms of both crocus species that have survived the onslaught have opened in the periods of sunshine in recent days. And I rather like their air of defiance, too. Battered and bashed maybe. But not beaten.
And that is why I keep trying the spring bulbs.