The race is on. Eagerly we have stocked up on bulbs from our local garden emporiums, and for those rare treasures seldom found in retail outlets, our fingers have pushed (far too many times) the add to shopping cart button on the wide, wonderful, world of the Internet. Now, this week, many packages have arrived on our doorsteps, and we have decided, for these magical springtime bulbs, we simply will not calculate a carbon footprint. The time has come to slip all these treasures into our "dreams" about the spring landscape.
Preparing the bulbs into an easy receptacle to carry out to the garden takes a bit of time. There is the fuss of removing the papery excess, and then remembering to note in the frayed garden journal just exactly where the treasures are to be buried. Where did that half-hour go? And then preparing the garden beds requires a little (?) bit of cleaning out of the old pine needles and fresh-fallen and oh so colorful autumn leaves. Aha, now to dig in those bulbs. Except it would make sense to move that fern which is blocking the pleasure of seeing the growth of that small, rare azalea - and it makes sense to fill in that space with those Heucheras that need to be divided - the ones in the crowded bed over by the....
The instructions that come with most bulbs advise that you add some rich bulb food as you plant the bulbs. I am going to sprinkle into each bulb hole a dollop of plant food? NO. It is all that I can do to try to get the @$@(&$*&%! bulb at the proper and advised level. And I bought 100 of these?
Now the smarter garden makers have decided to have their spring bulb displays in pots! While I struggle to get the bulbs into my garden beds, they just simply line up their gorgeous and extensive garden pot collections, add fresh potting soil and lay out the bulbs. It is possible to plant up a pot with tulips at the greatest depth, followed by daffodils and then some wonderful crocus on the final layer. Dress it all off with handsome potting soil, water thoroughly, keep damp through the winter months and voilà, a gorgeous spring display.
However, my not so quiet tsk-tsk comes when they all say, "Well, of course I get fresh bulbs every year." Vehemently I say, this is not gardening, this is window dressing. But then there is an enchanting beauty, in the spring, with their beautifully articulated arrangements. I look out at my garden beds, hoping to see my bulbs emerge - and they do, but never as thoroughly and dramatically as my brilliant gardening friends' potted spring displays. I admire with relish their drama. Then I console myself, as the light gets longer and stronger, and as I stroll through the spring garden, with the hardiness and beauty of the bulbs I planted when the light was waning.
But of course I want the best of all worlds, yet I have not yet been able to make my own collection of spring bulb containers. I continue to leave that to the artistes for I need to concentrate on getting all the bulbs planted before Nov. 16. Yes, it is a totally arbitrary date, but from past experience, it is a totally necessary date. There have been years when I have found paper sacks filled with bulbs, dry and empty as dust. The days in late autumn flew past and those bulbs did not get planted.
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