Mimi's Tulips

Aren't they gorgeous?

Yellow? We Laugh at Yellow!

It's daffodil time here on the farm. Over the years we've planted hundreds of bulbs and a variety of daffodils. I won't bore you to tears by taking photos of every clump, but I thought I'd share a couple of my favorites.

One of the things I like most about daffodils is that once planted, they're pretty much self-sufficient. Deer don't eat them, which is a very good thing around here. They multiply without any outside interference, another positive. And the variety of shades of yellow, white, orange and pink is stunning.


The contrast between the centers and leaves on these is much more pronounced that the photo shows.



These are so delicate, and the cup so ruffled, that they look like the edges of a ball gown. I love these!

Pretty much the workhorse of the daffodil gardens, these yellow blooms are the ones most of us remember drawing pictures of with our Crayolas. I know I did. Did you?

The orange daffodils are due to open any day now. I'll try to remember to snap a photo of those for you to see.

Next year I'm planting pink daffodils. We have just a few of those, and they're so pretty that I decided to plant more. They're already ordered, and will come right when they need to be put in the ground.

I predict the day we've got to actually plant the new daffodils will be frigid, with howling winds and a gray, stormy sky. How do I know it will be that way? Because it always is on daffodil planting day. But these gorgeous blooms? They are worth frozen fingers and chapped cheeks!

Tulip time!

I adore tulips! We have lots of varieties and an assortment of colors growing in our yard. I thought I'd share a few with you.

And this orange-y red variety with its yellow center makes me smile. It just looks like it'd be equally at home in a Christmas bouquet as a spring arrangement, doesn't it?

Does anything say cheerful better than yellow? Hmm? I think not. These yellow tulips (we have loads of them planted all over the place) are the workhorse of the spring gardens. Along with the daffodils, which are beginning to die off, they fill in every odd spot and provide bright bursts of color. And, they make me smile, so it's all good with the yellow tulips.

And really, bringing up the rear, doesn't it just figure? The pink tulips always seem, I don't know, almost child-like in their simplicity and beauty. It's no surprise, then, that these darlings are dawdling and taking their time putting in an appearance. The last to bloom, and the last to drop their petals, these pink tulips leave a lingering impression.

Can you tell I adore tulips? I'm saving photos of the lavender ones for a day when the snow is blowing, the wind howling and the sky as dark as coal. Then, I'll share them with you. That way we'll remember, together, the warm, bright, cheerful days of spring.

:)

Soon, the hyacinths...

Time passages

These photos are from a few days ago. Today I'll take the same shots so you can see what's going on in the garden now. It's quite a bit different, I assure you!

Mama Hen

I love it that the Hens and Chicks are growing so nicely. This mama hen is pretty big, surrounded by dozens of tiny chicks. Only Mother Nature could pair purple and green and get something so pleasing. It's an odd color combination but for this Mama, at least, it works!

So many possibilities...

Some of the seeds I've planted. Lots of flowers so far. A lot of the veggies (corn, summer squash, cukes, beans) are direct-sow seeds so we'll poke them right into the ground when the soil warms. But the flowers? Most I've given a head start!

So exciting!

Seedstorm

I love this time of year. No, not because of the snow, although I don’t generally mind snow. In fact, I love cross-country skiing and snowshoeing, so I welcome the big white drifts. But I’m not thinking of snow, or even snowshoes, as I write this. I’m thinking of the catalogs that fill our mailbox every day—and I’m smiling.

Honestly, most catalogs annoy me. I see them as a ridiculous waste of natural resources, at least when they’re sent to our address. Most never make it into the house. Instead, I stop at the recycling bin in the garage and drop them off before I bring any bills and personal correspondence inside.

But these catalogs, the ones that fill my mailbox now, are different. These catalogs aren’t annoyances. They are threads from which I’ll weave a year’s worth of productive dreams. They are the seed catalogs.

I love them all. Burpee, Park Seed Co., Thompson & Morgan, Seeds of Change, Territorial Seed Company, Harris Seeds—the list goes on and on. I love ‘em all. And Stark Brothers, the fruit tree people? Oh, their catalog nearly makes me weep with joy. And let’s not even begin to talk about Jackson & Perkins, the rose suppliers. I get shivers up my spine just thinking about that one.

The wind may howl and the snow may fly, but once I’m safely inside, my daily trek to the mailbox complete, it is spring, summer and even autumn at our house. I sit for hours, perusing the coveted catalogs. I weigh one variety of winter squash against another. I debate the merits of deep salmon versus light pink and magenta when I choose flowers. I even justify the need for four types of cucumbers, wondering whether or not a fifth variety might be called for as well.

With the seriousness of a judge I mull over my desire to try kale. What is kale, anyway? Do people actually eat it? And if they do, why haven’t I tried it yet? And if I grow it and don’t like it, what then? Where does one dispose of a glut of kale? Invariably there will be a bumper crop of the stuff if I don’t like it. That’s just the way it is with gardening. One year we had so many brussel sprouts we couldn’t give them away fast enough. And while I’m on the topic of the brussel sprout explosion, I may as well confess to my neighbors. I’m the one who left brussel sprouts on your doorstep. Yes, it was I. I, um, hope you enjoyed them. Really, I do.

I’m still choosing this year’s seeds. I’ve got to finalize my orders by next week if I’m going to receive the seeds in time to plant them in our greenhouse. I’m pretty much set on most of what we’ll grow this season but I’m still debating over a couple of items. When the list is firmed up I’ll let you know what we’ll be ordering. Until then, you’ve got your own garden catalogs to keep you busy, haven’t you?

What? Not a gardener? Why not? Black thumb? Oh, I don’t believe in that black thumb business. Anyone can garden. Anyone. All it takes is a little patience and a measure of commitment. If you’ve got those, you’re equipped to garden. And if you haven’t cultivated those traits a garden is a good place to find them.

Pardon? Oh, the kale? Well, to tell the truth, I’m still undecided about that one. Maybe tomorrow a new seed catalog will show up and I’ll be swayed one way or the other. Until then, I’m on the fence about kale. What about you? Any seed you’re not sure about? Maybe we gardeners can band together. You tell me kale stories and I’ll tell you my vegetable tales.

Eggplant. Now that’s a vegetable I could really begin to talk about… But that’s a story for another day, isn’t it?