The Planting of the Bulbs

Last week I finished planting all the bulbs. I had gone wild in a fit of horticultural frenzy and ordered all sorts of flower bulbs from the garden guy. I was longing for a splash of color in a garden that was too, I’m having trouble finding the word, modest – austere – minimal – boring. You get the picture.

So I planted gladiolas, irises and narcissi (these were a present from the garden guy, bless him!) along the rocks in the back. In the front, hyacinths and tulips. The thing I like about bulbs is you stick them in the ground once and they keep coming up year after year with no intervention required from me. It fits my laziest-gardener-on-the-planet persona. I love plants and seeing them grow and thrive, but whenever I try to garden I just seem to get into trouble. Witness: the calla lilies.

I had this huge terracotta pot that would be perfect for callas, I thought. It’s a great plant – huge green leaves and architectural white flowers. Last year I asked the garden guy to bring me one, but just to be sure he brought me two packages, a total of five bulbs. Like an idiot, I planted them all. They grew beautifully, fantastically, and then alarmingly! They ultimately split the pot and continued to grow. The only reason the pot is not in pieces on the ground is that the roots will not let it go. So now a whole team of gardeners is going to have to come to transfer the callas to a spot in the garden which is probably where they should have been all along.

I’ll be happy if the bulbs I’ve planted will grow and flower the way they’re supposed to, but not more than that. I don’t want to have to machete my way to the front door. Even so, at least that garden wouldn't be boring.