Plant those bulbs deep

It might be optimism, it might be delusion, it might be weakness, but whatever it is around here there always seems to be an unreasonable amount of bulbs in need of planting….  or there might not be enough.  No one is ever really sure but one thing is definite.  I have never regretted planting too many bulbs, so until I do it’s always better to err on the side of caution and overdo it if possible.

planting spring bulbs

Last weekend I tried to put everything out in order to see exactly what still needs planting.  Tiny bulbs add up, and this innocent collection is well over 1,100 bulbs.

There’s no denying that I’m a bulboholic and I think if you keep up with this blog you already know that fact.  They’re my favorite plant type and for good reason.  Each spring they just explode into growth, bloom like there’s no tomorrow, and then politely fade away, all within a few weeks.  They’re like a spring fling which burns hot and then ends on good terms.

Somehow the bulbs just find me during the summer.  I dig a clump of daffodils to thin them, find a clump of tulips when moving something else, more daffodils come out when I move a bed… before you know it there are bulbs in saucers, bags, and boxes all over the garage, plus a few I pick up at the nursery.  This year an early clearance sale at Van Engelen’s added a few hundred more crocus and muscari.  You can’t overdo crocus and muscari, so obviously those needed to be purchased as well.  Since I don’t enjoy planting bulbs, 850 new crocus corms can border on autumn torture so I try to deal with them as efficiently and quickly as possible.  Here’s a trick I read online which I now love that really moves things along when planting larger numbers of small bulbs.

naturalizing crocus bulbs

Tools of the trade for naturalizing larger numbers of small bulbs in turf.  Gloves, masonry hammer and small bucket stolen from the children.

A masonry hammer seemed necessary at some point for chipping stones and breaking cinderblocks, but it’s now become invaluable for planting small bulbs in the turf of the meadow garden.  Using a shovel is much more work than I’m willing to do and when you’re trying to naturalize bulbs, or make them look like they just seeded out into your lawn on their own, then digging large sections of turf up is just out of the question.  I find the hammer much easier to use.  One swing and it’s into the ground, a pivot back and you have just the hole you need for a tiny bulb or two.

naturalizing crocus and small bulbs

One down, 849 to go.

I start off carefully, trying to get the sprouting end up and the bulb gently eased down into the hole, but after the first 100 they’re getting dropped in and jammed down whichever way works.  A quick swipe with the hammer also closes the hole.  After about an hour and a half (including two 20 minute breaks to unlock my knees and back) all the bulbs were in.  People talk about the joys of gardening but for me I far prefer sitting back after the job’s done and visualizing the results.  I have plenty of other things which need doing in and out of the house, so the less time spent prepping cute little holes and overdoing a job the better.  If one had to sum up my entire bulb planting philosophy I think ‘shallow graves’ might not be the worst term to apply.  For larger tulips and daffodils I’m not above digging out a shovelful or two of dirt, throwing in a handful of bulbs and carelessly kicking the dirt back over them without bothering to prep the soil or put the bulbs right side up again.  In the vegetable garden some bulbs go into trenches so shallow that by the time the compost rots away from above them the tops of the bulbs are actually at the soil surface…. although this has just as much to do with thin soil and poor drainage as it does with a lack of enthusiasm for digging.

shallow tulip bulbs

These tulips might be on the shallow side. The original bulbs have split in two and both appear to be healthy blooming size bulbs, but if left uncovered mice and rabbits will likely find them and have a nibble.

I often read that in order to have bulbs such as tulips last longer and re-bloom reliably they should be planted as deep as possible, sometimes up to a foot deep.  This sounds like a lot of unnecessary work and I’m completely against it.  Perhaps a shallow bulb is more likely to split due to stress such as drought, but for the most part mine come back best when the spring is long and cool, tulips are deadheaded (daffs and hyacinths don’t seem to care), and tulips are either dug up for the summer or not watered in a spot which is nice and dry.  Planting depth, as long as it’s at least a couple inches down, doesn’t seem to factor in much at all and unless someone shows me actual research to prove otherwise I’m going to say deep planting is one of those often repeated bits of advice which don’t really do much here or there.

pink impression tulips

I planted these ‘Pink Impression’ tulips a few years ago and finally got around to getting more this fall. The new bulbs are from a good nursery and huge, so I know they’ll add to an even more awesome show next spring!

So we’ll see this spring if my lazy planting methods pay off again.  Good soil prep and proper planting depth are always a great thing, but I prefer to not overthink gardening.  If a squirrel can successfully plant sunflowers and oak trees throughout my flower beds, and the best iris can survive a year under the compost pile, I think I can pop a few bulbs into the ground without a PhD and still get good results.  I’m already looking forward to seeing the ‘bulked up’  meadow plantings next spring.

crocus lawn of dreams

The crocus plantings in the meadow garden began with approximately 500 bulbs,  this fall I’ve more than doubled that number 🙂

Two issues may still stand in my way.  Rabbits have huge appetites once they discover fresh crocus flowers, so I may have to do something about that come springtime.  The second worry is that the mixed crocus were irresistibly cheap when compared to the single color varieties I had been planting in the past.  Hopefully the Technicolor patches look as nice as the solid color patches I have now.  I did try to keep the single colors closer together and the mixed ones more spread out but who knows how this naturalizing theory will work out in the real garden.  If worse comes to worse the bunnies will make quick work of any mistakes.

Have a great weekend and I’d love to hear which bulbs have made the cut for you this year.  One request though,  please don’t rub it in too much that you’ve already completed your planting 🙂

Why wait for spring?

I’m halfway enjoying fall this year.  Yes, everything is dying, it’s too dry, and we face months of snowy gloom, but right now the fall bulbs are blooming and it’s a little bit of rebirth right before *the end* (sorry but I will never actually look forward to the arrival of winter).  The hardy cyclamen, in this case cyclamen hederifolium, have been blooming for several weeks now.

naturalized cyclamen

I was ambitious this year and spread a little shredded wood mulch around the cyclamen bed. For a while it looked immaculate under the cherry….. but within minutes the dirty little tree resumed its leaf dropping….

Last winter the polar vortex was brutal on these little guys.  Fortunately they’ve shrugged off the foliage loss and act as if nothing at all happened.  I wish I had clearer photos, but out of the dozens of cyclamen pictures I took, these were the only two which came out halfway in focus.  I need a photo mentor who can begin to point out some of my worst mistakes 🙂

hardy cyclamen hederifolium

For me the best thing about these hardy cyclamen hederifolium are the leaf patterns, but the flowers aren’t too shabby either….

Cyclamen are the best, but colchicums follow at a close second.  Actually the colchicums do put on a more impressive show, but it’s all or nothing with these ladies, and ends more quickly than the slow and steady cyclamen display.

colchicum flower bed

Most of my favorite colchicums are together in this bed. It’s bone dry (the third gooseberry bush actually died this summer) but the bulbs seem right at home.

I’ve devoted the way-too-dry-for-vegetables end of the veggie patch to colchicums and daffodils, and they seem happy enough here, but as the garden grows I’m thinking there might be something better to do with this spot for the other 11 months of the year.  Amaranthus once filled the bed, but the soil was too dry for them to survive this summer.

colchicum '‘Harlekijn’ 'Harlequin'

New this year, colchicum ‘‘Harlekijn’ is what I’d call “interesting”. Most pictures show more pink to the bloom, but that might change from year to year. Overall I like the curious rolled (or quilled) petals and they do make for something ‘different’ 🙂

The few colchicums I have planted in the meadow seem just as happy and to my eye look a little more comfortable growing amongst the barely green grass.  In fact the only bulb of colchicum autumnale ‘Pleniflorum’ to bloom for me is this one planted in the lawn.

colchicum autumnale 'Pleniflorum'

The colchicum autumnale ‘Pleniflorum’ planted in the official colchicum bed don’t bother blooming. This one in the lawn seems marginally more happy and is even gracing us with the sprouting of a second flower bud.

The (I think ) ‘Lilac Wonder’ planted in the lawn is possibly my favorite colchicum.  It blooms long, large, and heavily and makes quite the pool of color.  I’m thinking next summer might see a lot of these moving around, since they’ve multiplied like rabbits and are ready for dividing, but it’s not something I want to tackle this fall.

colchicum 'lilac wonder' in lawn

Colchicum ‘Lilac Wonder’ growing happily in the (now mowed) meadow.

You might be wondering why I’m even talking about moving flowering bulbs in the fall.  According to what I’ve read and heard (and done) colchicums are ok to move while in bloom.  It’s probably better to wait till the foliage dies in the summer and the bulbs are dormant, but I’m more of a do it while you remember kind of guy, and it’s much easier (and more fun) to move them while in bloom.  You can’t always be a slave to your plants you know, and every now and then they have to just suck it up and deal with things at a less than perfect time.

tranplanting colchicum in bloom

This unknown clump of colchicums which I call “not the giant” comes from a single stray bulb left behind from the last digging. It’s in full bloom and the roots have just begun to sprout from the base of the corm…. even in soil so dry I could have used a dust mask while digging.

Obviously you want to take a little care with the roots while planting, but to be honest I was more concerned about snapping off the blooms.  Instant gardening is what I call this, and the bulbs were planted individually right under the turf without any soil prep.

naturalized colchicum in lawn

Two days later the blooms look as fresh as the day I dug them. After being planted into more bone dry soil… and not even watered while transplanting… this will be a true test of how well colchicum handle autumn transplanting. We’ll revisit next fall!

Kathy at Cold Climate Gardening is a truly addicted colchicum lover (I’m just a dabbler), and her recent post on how colchicums know when to bloom asks a lot of the same questions I have.  They’re growing in soil so hard and dry I don’t even know how the roots penetrate the soil, yet they do, and cyclamen perform a similar trick.  Somehow these bulbs seem to have an odd internal clock that just goes off one day and they start growing.  Maybe it’s better I just ignore this heavy thinking and stick to enjoying the blooms, so here’s one last flower to end the post.  Not hardy, it’s one of those odd things that find their way into your online cart and then surprise you when you’ve forgotten all about that weak moment with a gift certificate.

bessera elegans flower

A fascinating flower shape, bessera elegans also comes in a rare deep purple. Mine are just blooming and I love it. Keep in mind though that the foliage is a floppy mess of green. Imagine thin dark green daffodil leaves so spineless they can’t lift themselves up off the ground and you have an accurate picture.

So fall flowers are off to a strong start.  I wish I had an autumn snowdrop to go with them, but I fear I’ve killed off my one bulb.  Obviously I don’t want to talk about it :/