The (Impulsive) Gift of Bulbs

If last week’s post on my forethought of sowing seed made you think that I always have everything planned out, this week’s writing will change your mind. I like to think that I’m not too much of an impulsive gardener, but perhaps I just live in denial.

When Brent and Becky’s Bulbs announced a 50% off sale on bulk orders last week, I jumped at the chance to view their offerings online. At first, it was casual scrolling, but the adrenaline started pumping as I watched inventory of some bulbs vanish before my eyes. Maybe next time, ‘Gravetye Giant’ Leucojum.

There was no time to let family or Santa Claus know what I wanted. I would splurge on bulbs that I’ve been wanting to get and call it an early Christmas present to myself.

I love seeing the underground structures that produce the flowers we so enjoy above ground. Bulbs clockwise from top, the chunky Ipheion uniflorum ‘Wisley Blue’, the tufted Tulipa clusiana ‘Cynthia’, and the rupturing tunics of Narcissus papyraceus ‘Galilee’.

I was delighted to see Ipheion uniflorum ‘Wisley Blue’. I think some consider these geophytes second rate, but beggars can’t be choosers. In Zone 8b, this bulb is a reliable grower for us. I found some years ago in an abandoned lot here in town, added them to my garden beds where I have a cool-colored planting, and they thrived. In the time since, they have multiplied, their glaucous blades having already emerged this fall. I’ve also noticed how they can be good groundcovers to prevent too much weed growth in the spring.

 

A close up of Ipheion uniflorum ‘Wisley Blue’

 

I zipped down the page to see the status of the tulip selection, and sure enough Tulipa clusiana ‘Cynthia’ and ‘Lady Jane’ were available. Lady tulips are known for growing well in the south. You can identify those of this lineage with their candy-like bicolored petals and the little tuft of hairy trichomes at the top that resembles a mouse’s ear. I have been looking for warmer colors to play off the browns in our log cabin, so I only ordered ‘Cynthia’. I already had a handful of them growing well from the Smith County Master Gardeners bulb sale and ‘Lady Jane’ is a bit too pink for where I want it. Even in impulse there is some restraint!

‘Cynthia’ Tulipa clusiana in my home garden

And, then I backtracked to Narcissus where I knew I would spend some time. I’ve been wanting to add some more Narcissus papyraceus to my garden, which are just starting to bloom well here. I settled on ‘Galilee’, a cultivar that was bred for indoor forcing in Israel in the 1970’s but is still a handsome performer for outdoor plantings in the deep south.  Even though paperwhites are already coming into bloom, these will have a late start this year and catch up later.

By chance the other three Narcissus I ordered all have Narcissus cyclamineus in their pedigree.  They typically need growing conditions to be colder and wetter than what we have in the south, but hybrids like the three I purchased—‘Jetfire’, ‘Tête-à-tête’, and ‘February Gold’—should perform well.

I have fond memories of visiting the JC Raulston Arboretum around Valentine’s Day and seeing a large number of ‘February Gold’ in flower. We need more winter interest in front of our house, and I think that these will go well in that spot.

‘February Gold’ at the JC Raulston Arboretum in Raleigh, NC

‘Jetfire’ was one of the first daffodil varieties I ever grew.  My friend Jimmy Williams of Paris, Tennessee introduced me to it.  He had it planted throughout his back woods where the reflexed yellow perianth and orange cups would catch the warming March light and glow.  They should go well with ‘Ceylon’, another orange-cupped selection that does well for me.

‘Jetfire’ Narcissus at Duke Gardens in Durham, North Carolina

I also got ‘Tête-à-tête’, a popular diminutive cultivar that I grew back in Tennessee. ‘Tête-à-tête’, which is French for face-to-face, is a dainty little Narcissus that can sport 2 (or 3) flowers per scape. I knew Michael McDowell of the Instagram account @planoprairiegarden had success with this selection, and I thought I would give it a whirl. Its short stature makes it good for planting in the shade of others.

I’ll be honest. I have faith in the starflower, lady tulip, and paperwhites. But, I realize the Narcissus hybrids are on more of a trial basis. The challenge with some of these bulbs is knowing if they will get enough winter chilling to bloom reliably. I like to reference Daffodils in Florida by Linda M. Van Beck and Sara L. Van Beck and Scott Ogden’s Garden Bulbs for the South to know which types will likely grow well here and the conditions they need to be successful.

So, I’m going to not put all of my bulbs in one basket. I’m going to scatter them around in a few small groups to see where they are happiest here. I’m also making sure that I lime a bit where they go into the ground as our soil pH tends to be 4.5 or lower.

I suppose if you think about it bulbs are like little Christmas presents, hidden in their wrappers until the joy inside is revealed. My goal for these geophytes to thrive is for them to be the gift that keeps on giving for many years to come, even if it they were just an impulse gift to myself.

Thankful for the Return of Snowdrops

“YES!” I exclaimed! “They came back!”  Before me was the cupped blade of a single snowdrop piercing up from the soil.  I scraped some leaves back and found more shoots.  “And, another!  And, another!” I added. 

It was early November, and I was so ecstatic. I have been searching for bulbs to grow in east Texas outside of those that have a reputation for thriving here. Autumn-flowering geophytes that don’t need significant winter chilling to flower I felt held promise as our lack of vernalization is the limiting factor for many species. Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus (one-spotted greater snowdrop) was high on my list to try. 

My introduction to this late autumn flower was from visiting Nancy Godwin at Montrose Gardens in Hillsborough, NC. She turned a handful of bulbs years ago into thousands of plants that now carpet the understory behind her homeI have multiple memories of visiting Montrose around Thanksgiving for one of her snowdrop walks with friends. And, now mine were blooming right on cue.

I had bought some bulbs from Nancy before and tried them in a container thinking that the soil here might be too dry, but I lost them twice.  I figured third time was the charm, and I acquired more bulbs in the green from Nancy last winter.  I decided to be brave and try them in two in-the-ground locations; both spots I amended with grit and lime to improve the soil conditions.

I planted a few in my fenced in patch where they would be protected from uprooting armadillos and able to get more water during the summer when I irrigated summer cut flowers and veggies.  Years ago, I read in Scott Ogden’s Garden Bulbs for the South that most Galanthus should not dry out during the summer and often like wetter spots. 

However, Nancy told me that where she has these autumn-flowering snowdrops in her woods turns bone dry in the summer. Therefore, site two was higher and drier underneath trees in a new bed that magically appeared after we lost some azaleas in the freeze of February 2021. I didn’t water this site all summer.

This shaded spot is where I have found snowdrops emerging first, and they are further along than those in the patch where a scraping of soil showed the bulbs are still intact but haven’t produced foliage yet. I’m sure autumn rains are a trigger for emergence, but I ponder if they also need to have cooler temperatures to appear, which they are able to get sooner from the waning shade of sweetgum and oak? 

There’s no way that I can grow the multitude of selections my colleagues do further north—well, in absence of a walk-in cooler that is—nor do I wish to become such a collector. But, I’m happy to potentially add yet another geophyte to my garden cast of characters. I may be counting my snowdrops before they have hatched—er, make that returned again next year—but I do believe that seeing them this year in flower is a good sign. I’ll give them my choicest compost with some bone meal, and I’ll hope that next year I can once again be thankful for their return.