A miracle occurred and I remembered that it’s time to plant bulbs. Well okay I remembered when I tripped over the display of tulip bulbs for sale at the farm store…
Simultaneously, which was maybe a miracle squared, I remembered those little blue anemone plants I’ve wanted for so long, and that they are grown from bulbs. I was online faster than Mitt Romney could cut funding to PBS…
Turns out little Anemone blanda bulbs don’t cost much, but still 10 bulbs sounded about right so that’s what I ordered– from a site called Brent and Becky’s Bulbs. Here is the image from their online catalog. (I hope some of my “blue shades” are darker.)
This morning, right after I received the order confirmation, I searched online again to read about the anemone’s idea of a good neighborhood, because heaven knows I don’t want to have to move them once they are planted [wink]. That’s when I read how one should plant hundreds, no thousands, of these little blue flowers in vast swathes over acres of woodland.
Damn, I forgot to order acres of woodland, not to mention the other 2990 anemone bulbs… They jolly well better reproduce, that’s all I can say. In the meantime I will plant them together in one tiny swathe, focus on the cool common name ‘sapphire anemone’ –I am so impressionable–and try not to think about it.
In other news, the white columbine seeds are growing in the greenhouse.
These little guys will grow into pretty, compact clumps of gray-green foliage with snowy white blooms on sturdy stems above. Here is an image of the flower, from my vast and meticulously organized file of garden photographs.
They are quite sturdy now and I planted them outside in two different beds. And this time I planned for not only part shade but also for conditions that will help support the stems, because, as you know, my gardens experience heightened levels of gravity (it’s a physics thing) and so I must be vigilant to avoid the threat of inappropriate plant horizontality. (No that is not a moral issue. What have you been reading?)
And so you see I am totally–well not totally, but in at least three little respects–on top of spring planning, even while I gathered the last bouquet of summer. Here are the flowers against the carpet of leaves that the rains installed: roses, asters and a second bloom of hollyhocks.