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.
In case you are still not sufficiently dazzled by my garden planning, I will show you some of the foxglove plants that I grew over the summer.
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.
Women Who Run With Delphiniums 
Oh dear, if only you didn’t live somewhere with stringent phytosanitary thingies, I could send you the thousands you need – well, maybe a couple of dozen. If it’s any help, I have my Blanda in virtually pure gravel – in something that doubles as a path now and again – where they don’t get a lot of competition. You do need to realise that mice are partial to them, and knowing what they did (or maybe didn’t) do to your clematis, you should take defensive measures, like sitting out with a torch and something sharp all night. I do admire your forward planning…what is the Oregon advice about bulb planting time? Here, it is August. I suppose there’s ‘forward’, and then there’s ‘not quite too late’.
Hi Kininvie
Thanks for the tip about gravel. I am generally anti-gravel, which comes from trying to garden a few areas which used to be a road, but I will keep it in mind. Not that I will plant my A. blanda on some path where they will be walked upon…Your continued skepticism about the mouse/clematis cutting incident is just stunning. Still, in my language a ‘torch’ is a stick that is on fire so at least I will be warm on the mouse hunt. And just because it has been cold and rainy for weeks in Scotland does not mean I am late with bulbs–here we plant in November, because otherwise it would not be a miserable enough experience.
I love these little anemones. Yours will do splendidly, even if they’re not covering the entire landscape. Actually I must say I am a little envious of your restraint while visiting B & B. They’ve got so many wonderful bulbs. Mine are a very common variety and darker than the ones in the photo so I think you’ll be happy. Love your final bouquet. That soft peachy rose is perfection on a stem. Did you see Scott Weber’s photo of that Aster? I love this plant.
I hope you have a great (if not soggy) weekend.
Oh that’s good news Gracie, that there is hope for dark blue. I must confess that I bought some giant allium bulbs from that company too, I just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.
Yes I saw that Scott grows the “the Prince” aster too– I love Scott’s blog!
Laughing to self about your anemones. I always laugh to self about the great drifts of somesuch that we’re instructed to plant in our outbacks. In my case 10 bulbs would be a HUGE statement, the ants would have a grand frolic.
I enjoyed “our outbacks” quite a lot. I’m afraid our gardens rarely meet the estate requirements of space, maintenance crew and cash. Do I have ants to worry about as well as mice? Should I maybe just compost the bulbs directly–it would save time…
That bouquet is just gorgeous. I have dreams of planting thousands of crocus in my lawn. (Not exactly anemones, but still a bulb.) But, do I order thousands of them? NO. I know that’s what would look best – but I don’t think I want to be on the installment plan of paying for bulbs all year, when they only pop up for a couple of weeks!
But Holley, can you imagine actually digging thousands of little holes for thousands of bulbs? I say plant a couple, tell them to be fruitful and multiply, then go have a beer or something.
It’s not that labourious really. I just stick a trowel in the ground, wiggle it, stick in a bulb, cover and seal with the heel of my boot. Maybe I’m doing it wrong …
I think that would work with very little bulbs b-a-g, and I understand the blanda ARE little. I’m used to digging holes for lilies or even tulips. Still, wouldn’t planting hundreds (or thousands?) likely give you some sort of repetitive strain injury? (I’m safe with ten.)
Excellent job planning ahead! Look at you with all your cute little seedlings. White Columbine are so delicate and graceful. Plus, you will always have them. Same with the Foxgloves. I suspect that if someone were to actually order thousands of bulbs, they would get tired of the whole thing after the first couple of hours. That’s a lot of work for something that only blooms a few days, then disappears for the year, maybe to never be seen again.
Oh Katie, you speak my mind on this. It does make one appreciate perennials!
I’m loving reading your posts! Your inappropriate plant horizontality caused me to laugh so hard that the dogs thought something was wrong with me! Thanks.
Welcome Peter!
Enjoying your writing too– I’ll be checking back wih you at your blog!
ps: My dog already knows there is quite a bit wrong with me. (Tolerant dog.)
Now swathes of bulbs just confuse me. Don’t get me wrong but, I mean how did they get there? In the olden days when folks had acres of woodland did they just employ children or say unicorns or both (unicorn for the hole and general fairy magic) children as they are easier to bend to the ground to plant things and cost less to feed? Maybe it’s why folks had large families? Or was it a time of rampant bulbage, so say 10 bulbs turned into 10,000 in a season due to the aid of mice gently carving them to propagate them up for you? Maybe that’s the secret, unicorns children and mice? Love anemones, have the patience to plant probably about 10. Good luck. Plenty to keep you busy there. Here we have the first snow, yes in real life, snow. This year in Scotland, we have two seasons it appears. Long days and rubbish weather and short days with, um rubbish weather. Both miserable enough to plant bulbs in! Goodluck.
My miserable ten bulbs have still not arrived. I wonder if they will come before spring… But I share your horror at the prospect of planting zillions of them together. Certainly there were overworked children or well-trained dogs or a lot of money involved. Or strong magic. I don’t have any of those things so yes, ten is about right I think. I can’t begin to feature snow before Halloween! During rare years we’ve had it come in late November, then be gone by Christmas. I quite like snow, as opposed to freezing rain (dreadful destructive ice– our most rubbish weather) which is more common here I’m afraid. Time to get that neep carved Fay!!!