Flower. Power!

Three cheers for the well-established garden.

Not well-planned, mind you.

Just, sort of, well-established.

I was thinking about that as I slaved away, prepping the garden beds for a brand new season. Man! I'm outta shape. Muscles squawking mightily this morning. I'd intended to clean up one, maybe two, areas but I got in a groove and just kept on going.

Plus, I wanted to stay ahead of the weather. Spring doesn't really happen in the mountains. We vacillate between summer and winter, and back again, quite often in the same, darn day.

I lack that gene, commonly known as self-control, so my yard is home to 11 different flower patches, the first of which was planted in the summer of 2003. (AKA, the 'well-established' one.)

At some point, this crazy mess might merge into one gigantic garden. Like you see in those jungle movies. Where The Rock, or Schwarzenegger leads the way, wielding a machete  ~ should you have the hutzpah to go for a stroll.

But, right now, they're just separate, sunny flower beds. (Mild-mannered enough that you don't need a macho guide.)

The oldest garden is the last place I visit and the longest place I linger. Not so much to admire. Mostly to catch my breath.

In spring, I'm so exhausted by the time I reach that flower patch, it's nice to just plop down and inspect the perennials peaking out of the muddy soil.

These perennials are so big and bossy, that after 7 summers, they are super self-sufficient. Making life easy as pie for lazy little me.

Heck, they even weed themselves.

Mostly because they're packed in like sardines.

I know... I know... I should thin them out a bit. But, I highly doubt that's gonna happen. I'm likin' this dense pack. It's so crowded in there, most weeds don't stand a chance.

* My dense pack flowers are just tiny green shoots this early in the season. Bulbs are squeezed into what little soil is left in these over-crowded gardens. They keep things colorful while the long-blooming perennials wake up and start growing.

Catching Up to... Me

African Violets brighten my kitchen window.
[A fab way to divert attention from dirty dishes that need washing!]

When in the mood to eavesdrop, I hear this question all the time: Where did the week go?

Into the history books, I suppose, with very little to show for it. Been so wrapped up in this, that, and the other thing I forgot all about my itty bitty blog.

How does she do it?
A trio of micro mini roses, different colors?
In one pot?*

Seedlings are percolating nicely in the big, bay window. The warmth of the sun inspired all my favorites to bloom: Jane's Azaleas, an experimental Day Lily, forced Hyacinth and tiny Narcissus bulbs, bright red Kalanchoe...

Outdoors?
1 unmistakable sign of spring:

* How does she do it? 3 colors of micro mini roses in one pot??? Oh, that one's easy. Snip the roses, hide them amidst the leaves in 1 pot, shoot the picture. Presto! You're a gardening rock star. :)

The Case for Heirloom Bulbs

Powerscourt Gardens, near Dublin, Ireland. I took this photo 20 years ago and I'll bet younger generations of this same Tulip bulb are still blooming.

"Your bulb order is heading to the barn and from there it will be shipped."

I got all warm and fuzzy when I heard my bulbs were heading to the barn. I hoped there were horses in that barn. Maybe even a cow, or two.

How cool would that be if it was a real barn and my bulbs were resting on a big wooden table instead of bouncing down an automated conveyor belt and into a box?

Whatever the case, that barn comment stopped my bitchiness dead in it's tracks. I called to demand where my order was. Mountain snows are just around the corner. I'd like to dig up a little more dirt before that happens.

When my precious bulbs finally arrived I stood at the fence and proudly showed off my purchase to my neighbor. She stared at me in disbelief. How can you possibly have a Hyacinth bulb from 1863?

Then I showed them to my daughter who laughed out loud and promptly asked to borrow some money.

I walked out to the garden shaking my head. Must everything require education?

I mean... really. How could my own daughter be so dumb as to think I'd loan her money after she mocked my gardening passion?

It makes perfect sense to me why we're confused by heirloom bulbs. It's because we've grown up gardening with hybrid bulbs.

Hybrid bulbs are cheap! So, we buy a bunch of them. They don't last very long. So, we go buy some more!

Hybrid bulbs don't reproduce.
Most flower for a few years. Soon their flowering power dwindles or they stop flowering altogether.

Heirloom bulbs eagerly reproduce.
These bulbs split in two. So 10 bulbs quickly become 20 and soon you have a garden filled with pretty spring flowers. They're tough, they last forever. In the long run they're less expensive than hybrids.

Most importantly, heirloom bulbs, like heirloom tomatoes, got voted off the island by big stores simply because they weren't as profitable. Now you know how much you love a good heirloom tomato. Imagine how exciting an heirloom Hyacinth could be.

Long live the MasterCard! Here's my bulb order:

1. Grand Monarque Hyacinth, born 1863
2. Purple-Headed Garlic Allium, born 1766
3. Marjolettii Tulip, born 1894
4. Rip Van Winkle Daffodil, born 1884
5. Spanish Bluebell, born 1906
6. Gipsy Queen Hyacinth, born 1927
7. Princeps Daffodil, born 1830
8. Orange Phoenix Eggs and Bacon Daffodil, born 1731
9. Estella Rijnveld Parrot Tulip, born 1954 ~ which is probably not truly an heirloom. Unless we can call Wunx an heirloom, too. (What say you to that Wunx? :))