I could recount all the varieties of Single Late Tulips I’ve tried in my main spring border or just refer you to the Bulbs category over on the left.  It’s been one disappointment after another.  You know how it is – the colors aren’t true to the catalog photos or the damn things don’t bloom together or whatnot.  So I’ve stopped expecting a dazzling result that’ll knock fellow gardeners off their Crocs.  I’m taking it easy these days.

Easy Move #1

I have my GardenRant friend and partner Eliz to thank for this one.  Instead of laboriously planting every tulip individually, I now plant them en masse in just a few large holes.  (She actually plants 50 together!)  So now I’m digging 4 – not 60 – holes for 60 bulbs, which also makes it actually possible to use wire screens to keep the squirrels from getting to them – yay!  I still sprinkle red pepper flakes over the wire before topping the whole thing off with mulch, though, coz squirrels have a long history of outsmarting us.  I figure two defenses are better than one.

Easy Move #2

The other move to easy-peasy tulips is throwing all design caution to the wind and using a MIX , something I’ve honestly almost scoffed at.  But a neighbor had some Single Lates she doesn’t want – the very type tulip I grow, because they bloom after the daffodils have faded – and it’s a mix of pastels, so what the hell.   Planting them without knowing exactly which color each will be was kind of liberating.   Hey, we’re in two wars, the economy has tanked, and I’m not wasting another ounce of concern about fussy details.  Or maybe it’s aging that’s to blame for my loosening standards.  You never know – aging is tricky that way.

And about that wire screening…

Why the heck is it called "hardware fabric"?  It’s heavy metal wire, after all.  I’m just saying. 

Here’s a chunk of it covering up 10-15 bulbs, with a bag of red pepper flakes just waiting to be applied.

Photo credit for Single Late Pastel Mix.

It all seems so obvious now, that planting tulip bulbs in groups is
waaay easier than one at a time.  Well,
that much I would have guessed but for some reason I thought we’re not supposed to do it that way.  So my 50 tulips
in front of a sunny border have always sprung from 50 separate holes.  But having learned
that Elizabeth sticks 50 of them in ONE HOLE and GETS AWAY WITH IT,
well damn, I can bunch ‘em up a bit, right?

So I planted in groups of 3, 5 and
7, resulting in the digging of only 10 holes for my yearly batch of 50
tulips.   And I already know they’re going to look better that way
because when I’m looking for a really super photo of them at their
peak, I crouch and contort myself to get as many as possible in the shot.  To me this is more proof that
the quest for beautiful garden photographs can be a fine guide to garden
design itself.  ("Let’s see; where can I plant this for a killer photo?")

Oh, oh, and another big advantage of bunching is that it’s actually
possible to put squirrel-prevention screening on top of them, which it
sure wasn’t when I planted all 50 scattershot among the perennials.  So
when I saw the squirrels digging right on top of where I’d planted them
(thankfully, stopping when they hit the red pepper flakes on top of
each one, but still messing up the planting) I knew I needed more protection than red pepper flakes,
and it was easy to cut just 3 pieces of wire window screening to cover
the tulip areas.  (Note to 2008 calendar: remove the screens by late March.)

And here’s one of those gardening tips to add to the frenzy of bulb
worship we seem to be in the midst of over on GardenRant.  Plant them in pure compost to make it super-easy.  My tulip border started life in my garden as a gully,
so I filled it in with pure compost and man, digging in it is a breeze.
Sliding my spade in that friable black goodness, well, it’s like
bud-ah, to steal from an old SNL skit.  And people like Elizabeth with
big raised beds all know this but here in the burbs, not so much.

WHAT THE USUAL SOURCES TELL US
I went a’surfing the Web and:

• Dutch Garden’s site offers the design idea that bulbs look best
  in informal groups of 5 to 11.  Endorsing the massing in one hole?  Well, no, because they go on to recommend a solid block of color or 20+ bulbs
  "planted just a few inches apart".  So either that’s lots of separate holes or a much bigger hole than I had in mind.
• Here’s Cornell
  telling us that planting tulips 4-6 inches apart leaves enough room for
  bulbs to "grow for 2 or 3 years before they  need to be divided."  Ah,
  so if that’s the reason we shouldn’t plant them cheek by jowl I can safely ignore that advice because my tulips are destined to being yanked and composted after they fade, anyway. 
• eHow has a video on the subject by the very well qualified Willi
  Galloway, West Coast editor of Organic Gardening Magazine,
  but she makes is pretty intimidating.  Materials needed before digging: soft rock
  phosphate, bulbs, compost, trowel, chicken wire, chicken cutters.  I can’t really disagree with anything she recommends
  but it’s kinda daunting, not the "Bulbs are easy-peasy" reports you
  read on blogs.

So are experts there to specify the ideal, while bloggers fill readers in on the reality, the good-enough, the relax-and-enjoy of growing plants?

Conscientious
gardeners no doubt already have their daffodils in the ground, or at
least already purchased, right?  But not me.  I JUST remembered it’s almost time to choose and plant my tulip display for the next year, so I hastened to consult this selection at my usual source, John Scheepers:  Single late tulips.   

Why the single lates?  Because they bloom after the daffodils have
faded, rather than competing with them and creating too much floral excitement at once.
And while I liked this year’s combination of Cum Laude, Esther and
Francoise, they were out of Cum Laudes and I like something new each year in any event. 

So here’s a sneak preview of the Great Tulip Display of 2008:  20 of these
lovely Pink Diamonds, 20 of the multi-colored Blushing Girl, and 10
Violet Beauty.  The 50 tulips will cover the
front of a sunny
backyard border and cost about $40, including shipping.  Remember I grow
them as annuals, ripping out their hideous foliage as soon as the flowers fade because, like I
say, it’s the front of the border.  But for about the cost of a
floral arrangement that would only last a couple of days we can have huge displays of
blooming glory that last 2-3 weeks.  So to anyone who thinks ripping out tulips after one season is wasteful, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  They don’t repeat worth a damn, anyway.

So readers, where do you buy your bulbs?

I’m really, really liking the latest results in my tulip border.  Those 50 Blue Aimables I planted here are joined by what can never be predicted – occasional repeaters from previous years’ designs.  The key just may be to, of course, try something new every year but all within a compatible mix of colors.  So here you see assorted China Pinks and Cum Laudes and Esthers popping with the Blue Aimables.

I can promise you more photos where this came from – when the tulips will have the blooms of azaleas, viburnums and weigelas as their background.  I’m just being impatient to show you these now.

Now I’m the first one to write off tulips as nonrepeaters; I even rip them out and start fresh every year in my main tulip border.  But back behind this large oak I’ve stuck assorted tulips over the years and have to admit that these dark pink Darwins have been blooming their hearts out for over a decade.  I think they look grand with the Actaea daffodils on the left.  Actaeas are smaller-flowered, later-blooming, clump-forming and reliably perennial.

But really, I’ve gotta hand it to those Darwins.

Another part of the winter experience at the Ginter Botanical Garden is closing the conservatory door behind you, breathing in the moist air, and smelling paperwhites.