Tulips and springtime, what a combination. Every morning I leap out of bed and find a window. Down below, my tulips flourish and my heart sings. All that work back in the Autumn, reading the catalogue, sending off the order, all worth the effort. Then, masses of bulbs arrive, about 400 I think, and I feel stressed getting them planted. Which colour should be next to which? Put the taller ones to the back and the shorter out front. How will they blend with the plants around them? Ultimately, I throw caution to the wind and put them in. It is a very satisfying feeling. Now I can just enjoy them as they present their flowers to the sun, and to me. Even neighbours or people walking past compliment me on how they look, how they cheer everybody up. That is the ultimate joy, the one of cheerfulness.

Strugglers

There were failures, there always is. The dogtooth violets were poor, with nearly half failing to grow at all. The snake’s head fritillaries were also poor with only a quarter reaching the flowering stage. Many daffodils did not appear, which is odd. They are usually tough but must have succumbed to the almost constant wet weather. However, the Erica’s, what many call heathers, flowered their little heads off. Lots of bumble bees visited them so I did my little bit for the environment. The tulip colours seem to attract the bees to the garden even though these bulbs do not offer nectar. Ann also reminds me that most people don’t recognise tulips because very few people grow stuff. Is that really true?

Tulips and springtime

I don’t want to virtue signal but is tulip production good for the environment, principally in Holland? Firstly, the crop does not appear to support insect life at the nursery stage. Secondly, is environmentally friendly fertiliser used to nurture the crop? If I find a negative to this second question then I will finish with them, end of story. As it is, the colours can smack me in the face and overwhelm my eyesite. What a way to go!