planning next year's bulb plantings

When I look at my bulbs in full bloom, I often miss their beauty and instead focus on what I would like to change, and the gaps that should be filled.  But the time to purchase bulbs is in fall, long after any sign of them has disappeared.  So, to make sure I remember where to plant, I am posting these pictures with reminders of what I want to accomplish six months from now.

I enjoy the colours and variety in the front bed - tulips, daffodils, grape hyacinths, forget-me-nots, and many more.

This area in the back is quite shady, but that just means the tulips bloom later. 
There is lots of room for more.

Five years ago, I found a bunch of bulbs thrown in a heap behind Veseys Seeds.  They had spent the winter exposed to the elements, and should have been dead, but some had sprouted.  I took some home, planted them, and they have bloomed faithfully ever since.

A ring around each tree fills up with hosta and is mulched with seaweed.  This is a reminder that lots more tulips should go in here.  These tulips, which I planted three years ago, were touted as being very long blooming, but they petered out really quickly.

This raised vegetable bed was built when the trees behind were small.  Now they cast so much shade, I repurposed the bed for tulips and shade perennials.

tulip time

Tulips.  Such variety of colours and shapes!  

I cleared out the rock garden - heaved out all the rocks, peeled back and pulled out the blasted landscape cloth (that stuff should be illegal), yanked out the horribly invasive but pretty creeping jenny, put down a layer of seaweed, and then replaced the rocks. 
Now I know why I avoided that job for so long. 
I have heard it said that a rockgarden is the most high-maintenance project, and it is true. 
Luckily, the red tulips survived my labours.

These tulips are probably 20 years old.  They just keep coming back. 
However, they are right in the middle of a vegetable bed. 
When I moved them last year, I missed these two.

These tulips always start out yellow, and I always wonder, because I didn't plant yellow tulips.
Then they turn a creamy orange, and I remember I wondered the same thing last year.

Princess Irene - lovely flames and white-edged leaves

My favourite group of tulips is clustered around the flowering crab apple tree.  I am certain I chose only pink tulips (to blend in with the pink apple blossoms) but now years later the colours have reverted.  I like the bold mix of colours.

daffodils

Tulips are considered the stars of spring bulbs, but daffodils are highly underrated.  

In my experience, daffodils bloom earlier and for a longer period of time than tulips.  

They seem to last for many more years, with the clumps getting bigger, and the flowers more numerous.  And they come in an array of shapes and sizes, in shades of orange, yellow, and white. 

The traditional yellow daff, called Dutch Master

My favourite daffodil is Thalia, a short variety (30 cm) with multiple pure white flowrers on each stalk.  These were planted about 10 years ago and still come back beautifully every year.

This is Poet's daffodil.  Very fragrant, and blooms quite late - here in late May.

A few growing tips: 

• they like full sun, but will happily bloom a bit later in half shade.
• The bulbs are quite big, so dig a deep hole (3 x the height of the bulb)
• plant in groups of at least 3, not in lines like soldiers
• choose a dry spot with no standing water - daffs hate wet feet
• after blooming, cut off the stalk to prevent seeds from forming, but the leaves must stay until they turn brown.  On PEI, that is usually August.  Through photosynthesis, the leaves make food to feed the bulb so it can bloom next year.

making many from one

Buying plants every year is really expensive.  I spend way too much money every year to fill up my containers with beautiful plants.  And then I hate to throw them out and let them die at the end of the season.  But over the past few years, I got smart.  I potted up geraniums, a purple sweet potato, iceplant, and a giant citronella in the fall, and set them on my bright windowsills.

This citronella has happily spent the winter in my bright basement.
If you look closely at the base of the plant, you will see Whitie the cat,
who has found a new favourite nap site.

There he is!

In March, I cut 10-cm off the tips of many of the branches, making sure there are at least 3 nodes (where leaves join the main stem).  I snap off some of the lower leaves and set the branches aside for a few days.  This is an important step to let the ends callus and prevent them from rotting.

I pack small pots with moistened, good-quality potting soil, use a pencil to make a hole in the soil,  pop in a stem or two, and firm the soil.  The small pots go into a waterproof tray, and then they are popped into a clear plastic bag, with a few props to keep the plastic from touching the leaves.  I close up the bag, and voila!  It's a make-shift greenhouse that forms its own atmosphere.  The pots don't need to be watered because the mosture condenses and falls back onto the plants.

Citronella cuttings covered by plastic held up with a variety of bottles. 
Condensation has formed on the inside, which will keep the plants watered.

Ice plant cuttings in the make-shift greenhouse

When the weather finally warms up in June, I will harden these off by putting them outside in a shady spot for an increasing amount of time until they are ready to withstand the harsher light and wind, and then plant them in containers.  What a beautiful way to save money!  And this year with the COVID-19 shut-down, I don't know if we will be able to go to nurseries to buy plants.

As you can see, my efforts don't always pay off.  The greenhouse method worked ok for the ice plants, but definitely didn't work for the citronella.  What a mouldy mess.  I'm thinking I should have rooted these in water.

racoon visitor

A sure sign of spring is when my bird feeders get trashed overnight.  That's how I know that the racoons are back in business.  I can't understand how they can digest sunflower seed shells, but they lap them up.  Now every night I have to bring in two seed feeders and a suet feeder and the frozen water dish.
Last night, we were Skyping with our son at midnight, when we noticed a little masked face looking in at us.  I opened the door to get a better picture, and the racoon was in no hurry to get away.

this picture looks like a double exposure, but it is Wayne's reflection in the window
and the racoon outside.

signs of spring

As the snow melts, we need to walk further and further into our back yard before we can strap on our skis.  And as the soil begins to poke out, we have had to detour and develop a new route through the fields.  But there is is still plenty of snow out there, although often it has water underneath.  I have noticed that snow over plowed ground melts faster than snow over grassy fields.  My theory is that the dark soil attracts light and heat even under a snowy cover. 

Around the house foundation, things are definitely happening.

Snowdrops are blooming, and donkey's tail euphorbia are snaking over the bare soil.

Winter aconite is tiny in stature, but produces 2-cm flowers that smell like honey.  The bees love them and are already buzzing around.  This flower comes from a small bulb planted in fall.  Once established, they keep coming back year after year.

Another yellow beauty is this crocus, which is also visited by bees.

Iris reticulata is another beautiful flower that brightens in early spring.

Even the moss growing in a crack of pressure-treated wood is greening up.

These tiny leaves promise poppies in June.

making suet

Many birds love suet, including chickadees, bluejays, downy woodpeckers, hairy woodpeckers, northern flickers, nuthatches, and unfortunately starlings too.  If you don't feed suet, these birds will not show themselves, and you won't even know they are around.
Suet provides protein and fat for the birds that can't find insects in winter.  At my feeder, a cake of suet can disappear in two days.  It can disappear overnight if I forget to bring it in and the racoons get it.
I started feeding purchased suet, but as with most ready-made things, I could tell it was much inferior to home made.  The wonderful magazine called Birds and Blooms carried a recipe, and I decided I could do that.

First, melt two pounds of lard (not vegetable shortening - these birds are carvivores) and mix in a big scoop of peanut butter.  

Take the pot off the stove, cool to room temperature, and add handsfulls of peanuts, raisins, sunflower seeds, oatmeal, and cornmeal.  This mixtue smells as good as oatmeal cookie batter!

I saved plastic trays from purchased suet. Two pounds of lard makes 5 squares of suet.

Set the trays on a cookie sheet, fill with suet, and freeze.  When solid, stack them and wrap in a plastic bag, and keep them in the freezer until needed.  And if you are plagued with racoons, be sure to bring the feeder in at night!