Tulip Time

I have not lost my marbles, thinking about tulip time in October.  This is the time to plant spring blooming bulbs.  My supplier sent me 22 emails today regarding the details of the UPS shipments of my bulbs. I plant lots at the shop.  I plant for clients too.  I wish I planted more.  It is very hard to appreciate the fragrance and beauty of spring flowering bulbs 8 months in advance of the event.  But I will try to express that-hoping it will encourage you to plant for spring.   

I hope my pictures encourage you to plant ahead. The one characteristic I admire most about gardeners the very most is their stubborn hope for the future.  A better garden next year.  A better spring for magnolias-next year.  The slip of a plant that becomes a major plant in a few years.  The spring to come.  Your spring is in your hands.   

Those brown tulip orbs of varying sizes represent a future garden.  Think about tulips, and move on.  There are lots of other spring blooming bulbs.  The spring anemone blanda bulbs are shrivelled peas when they arrive; soak them for 24 hours, and plant. The grape hyacinths are available in plenty of variations.  They are one of the longest lasting spring bloomers.   The tulip bulbs with their papery coating promise a plant with wide and luscious leaves culminating in a bloom of extravagant proportion.  Tulips fit into an established perennial garden as well. Order up plenty of those brown bulbs.    

There are many species and hybrids of tulips available, whose bloom time spans late April until late May.  They are  the showgirls of the spring garden.  After a Michigan winter, I am ready for their beautiful globular forms, their fresh fragrance, their supremely green stems and luscious leaves.  I am as grumpy about the fall as you are.  Our fall has been balmy so far-this is perfect planting weather.  Thinking about bulbs in late November-plant them in pots, in ther shelter of your own garage.      

This double tulip Akebono is exquisite.   My order of 100 bulbs last fall has been increased considerably.  A group of 10, or 25, or 110 planted in your garden this October will reward you handsomely next spring.     

Winter in the Midwest is a tough go.  Part of what gets me through that bleak season is the promise of spring.  Those various brown knobs and orbs, sequestered underground, ready to represent, once the snow melts, and the weather warms. No garden should be without tulips. I like to plant a mix in the big bed in front of the shop.  Next spring’s scheme will be very different than this.   

Should you have a perennial garden with but a few spaces available for tulip bulbs, there is always the option to pot them up the fall. A pot of tulips on the front porch in early May is a very good look.  It is easy to bring on potted tulips-give it a try.   

 Our winters are notable for the grey.  Grey skies, dirty snow, low temperatures.  Should you have a mind to emerge from the winter in fine style, plant some tulips. Plant lots of tulips.  Plant a fistful of tulips in an important spot. A plan for little color is in order, is it not?  This box of Oxford tulips was companion planted with yellow frittilaria.  Though the flowers are gone, the foliage looks great with the tulip flowers.  

No doubt it is hard to embrace the promise of a fresh gardening season right now.  Last spring’s pictures are helping to put me in the mood.    

Your local nursery has tulip bulbs.  John Sheepers has a complete range of tulips and other spring flowering bulbs available.  Becky’s Bulbs is a superb source.  October is time of choice in my zone to plant daffodils, hyacinths, anemones, tulips, grape hyacinths, and a whole other host of spring flowering bulbs.  If you are like me, you do not want to do without the snowdrops, crocus, chionodoxa, or hyacinthoides.  Part of preparing for winter is to make time for some tulips.  Plant what you can.

Tie It All Together

I am a fan of string, twine, thread and rope.  This is a material that helps with no end of chores in the garden.  The English adore twine; Nutscene is a company in England that makes string.  This jute string comes in a can-just like the label says, it is pliable-meaning it will not damage tender stems.  It does eventually deteriorate, but that process is slow.  Pulled from the center of the spool which is contained in a can, there is no tangled mess.  How you can use this jute twine with both hands free baffles me-but I am happy to let that claim pass.  This jute twine is ideal for tying wayward perennial stems to a stout stake, without injuring the plant. 

Should you have a need for thousands of yards of jute twine, Nutscene manufactures wheels of string.  Pray I never have a need for this much string.  But I love the look of this spool.  India is the primary source for jute worldwide-the fiber comes from corchorus capsularis, or corchorus olitorius.  They both are tropical annuals, from the linden family.  Burlap, a staple fabric of the landscaping industry, is woven from jute. Used to bind up rootballs, jute burlap eventually rots away, permitting the roots to work their weay into the surrounding soil, and the plant to take hold. It may not be the strongest string on the planet, but it is a natural, readily available, and traditional material appreciated just as much as a strong and well made terra cotta flower pot.

Bark wire is a staple in my tool kit.  I know that wire is the inner layer-I have no idea what fiber is wrapped around that wire.  I am sure it is not bark-it is a rough twine  of some sort.  I do know that when I need some strong restraint, bark wire does the trick.  Should I have a centerpiece wired in a visible way, this is my wired string of choice. 

Jute dyed green is a color friendly to the garden.  These spools of widely twisted jute fibers are satisfying to look at.  How would I use them?  You might use this twine to make a fence for peas, or wrap a package.  On a twine binge, I might wrap a pot with it.    

This pair of jute spheres are of vastly different sizes. The large rope wrapped sphere is a celebration of the strength that comes from many strands.  It is also a testament to the maker-it is incredibly difficult to make rope conform to a small or precise shape.  The technical issues aside, these are beautiful objects made from plants.

I wrapped this topiary form with its sphere finial in rope made from jute.  I like the look of the horizontal bands of rope in relationship to this french beehive pot fashioned from the natural color of a local clay. This I would call the next best thing to a living plant.  A sculpture from rope in a terra cotta pot brings the garden to mind.  

I collect string.  On the left, a spool of wire covered in paper.  In the center, linen thread. On the right, string made from twisted paper.This giant wood spool is covered with a flexible jute rope comprised of many individual strands.  We make bows from this rope.  We hang birdhouses, and light spheres from it.  We use it whole-we divide it up.  We wrap tree trunks for the winter,  and packages with it.  The smell of natural jute is as pleasing as the smell of phlox, roses, or petunias.      

Rob bought at least a hundred balls of natural jute Nutscene twine this past spring.  Most of those balls are gone.  I have no idea how they got used.  I do know they are beautidful objects in their own right.  I had occasion to  use 6 of those spools this past weekend.  

A client having her family for dinner over a holiday needed some centerpieces.  I could not take my eyes off those jute spools.  I worried plenty that she would not appreciate my idea about string spool vases and fall.  I need not have worried. 

She loved the string vases, the yellow celosia, the bleached leaves, and the green broomcorn bits.

These twine ball vases and their dry materials can stay on the table the entire fall.  Natural materials have a way of fitting-even on the most formally set table. 


It is amazing what a little twine can tie together.

At A Glance: October Orange

handmade terra cotta flower pots from Whichford, England

vintage Dooney and Bourke handbag

fall color Metasequoia Glyptostroboides

flower arrangement for fall wedding

fall color Boston Ivy

fall flower arrangement with dry kiwi vine

Halloween display with pumpkins and romanesco broccoli

fall color Himalayan white barked birch

pumpkin on a gourd bed

bittersweet berries

Late Blooming Perennials

Some gardeners have to pick there moments.  A spring wildflower and bulb garden highlighted by hellebores, perhaps.  Or an early summer rose and delphinium fest.  Does a late summer garden suit you better?  Are your pots your passion?  If I were retired, had a garden the size of Sissinghurst, and an garden staff, I  might could have it all. But that is not the case.  I work every week that the garden is in session.    

I am utterly focused on the work at hand from early May until the 4th of July.  This means I have little time to enjoy and nurture a garden at home.  People in the nursery business or the landscape business all have the same issues.  They get to work early; they go home late.  They work the weekends too.  Once the early spring has passed, and the magnolias are finished blooming, my eyes and hands are everywhere but at home enjoying my garden.      

I plant lots of pots-this keeps my love of gardening alive while my attention is elsewhere.  When I come home at night and water, I feel like I am gardening.  My landscape is designed around my lack of time to pay attention.  I have lots of mature evergreens that require little but a once yearly pruning, and some thoughtful watering.  Late in August, I start to come up for air.  I am looking at my gardens. 

The late blooming perennials I greatly enjoy, as I have time to enjoy them.  My rose garden is underplanted with white Japanse anemones, and boltonia.  Boltonia is a selected native fall blooming aster that is one of my favorite plants.  They grow all summer long without one bit of encouragement from me, and bloom like there is no tomorrow in September.  They are not fussy in any way, beyond appreciating regular water.  Bugs and disease-they are impervious.  For the past 3 weeks, I have been looking at these tall growing clumps out my south side windows.  How they thrive makes me look like a good gardener.   

The white Japanese anemones thrive equally well-on the south side of my house, in between and behind the roses.  They have no problem with a full sun location.  I do water my roses regularly via drip irrigation-the anemones seem to appreciate it.  For the better part of 10 days I have been wading into the anemones and boltonia with my camera.  I have time to look, and appreciate what is going on. 

I do not have the means or space to mount and maintain a garden that is lovely every moment of the entire season.  I have to make choices.  I like a late and a later season garden.  I like tall billowy perennials.  This means I personally favor hyssop, monarda, boltonia, hardy hibiscus, Joe Pye weed, ornamental grasses. aging Russian sage, phlox paniculata, lespideza, asters, anemone Japonica, among others.  This has every bit as much to do with my availability, as their form and flowers. There are very few garden plants I do not like.  I would have them all, if I could.           


But there are those plants that get special care and attention, as their time to be corresponds with my time to give. The big late blooming perennials-they occupy a special place in my gardening heart.  As for your garden, I would make this suggestion.  Choose the season that delights you the most-and go for broke.  If you want to grow great vegetables, organize your gardening efforts accordingly, and make plans for rocking pots of basil.  If you have a summer house elsewhere, make spring your season.  If you are a working person, plan for a glorious garden when you are the least busy.

Trying to be all things at all times sounds way too much like a competition.  A great garden that engages and satisfies an individual gardener is all about enabling a certain quality of life.  Those astonishingly beautiful pictures you see of gardens in magazines-they are all about a specific moment chosen by a gardener.  Choose your moment.