Promise of Spring

Hoping for one hundred beautiful tulips and daffodils in 2014
 

I've never been a gardener. In fact, apart from a few avocado bulbs planted in my kitchen 40 years ago, I'd never tried to grow anything until last summer, when Bob was recovering from surgery and unable to do his usual work in the garden. I filled six planters and two small flower beds under Bob's direction last spring, fully expecting failure in my modest, tentative efforts.

I was surprised when the flowers not only grew but flourished. I began to think, not for the first time, about trying my luck with a few spring bulbs. My sister Marilyn, an experienced and accomplished gardener, gave me a few simple directions for daffodils and tulips, that I would plant deep enough to avoid disturbance by the squirrels that own our property.

The first part of October was like summer, but the weather was a little chilly yesterday so I finally bought the bulbs, knowing that winter could begin anytime and I'd better get the job done. This morning, I set out my supplies and tools: the 56 tulips and 45 daffodils, fertilizer (instead of bone meal, because Menard's was sold out), an old shower curtain for the earth I would dig up, a large spade, an heavy fork-like tool about 5 inches wide that made me thing of a grappling iron, a bucket for weeds.

I attacked the first plot on the west side of the house with energetic enthusiasm and had soon shoveled a great deal of earth onto the shower curtain. I mapped out three triangles: one for daffodils, one for tulips, and a third triangle with both tulips and daffodils to create some unity in the space. Bob arrived just as I finished my second triangle. He observed that I had dug much deeper than the planned six inches, and returned with a tape measure to prove it. Too late. I was committed to the depth. I felt a little deflated, though, and a little tired as well.

I got almost half the bulbs in that area and covered them up with the earth on the shower curtain. On to the next section of garden, between the roses on the east side of the house. This time I didn't use the shower curtain. I had run out of steam and had only enough energy for four or five shallow  holes between the rose bushes, and to make matters worse I was getting very hot and my damp hair hung in strings over my eyes.

In my eagerness to get the job done, I now worked in in a careless and sloppy way. Since I really can't kneel down because of the knee surgeries, I leaned my head against the cool stucco and pawed my way down to the earth. I pricked my fingers with rose thorns and got a few of them caught in my hair. After burying a couple of handfuls of bulbs in the first hole, pointy side up, I stepped back to admire my work and stepped on the large fork leaning against the house. The handle bounced off the wall and hit my head with surprising force, making me feel like a candidate for Funniest Home Videos. I went on to the second hole, then stepped on the fork again, this time bopping myself into what felt like a near concussion.

The sun was shining brightly by the time I finally finished the planting, with each group of bulbs, tulips and daffodils in each hole, each one a little shallower than the one before. Finally at the end of the ordeal, I stole some earth from the day lilies to spread over the bulbs, in an attempt to compensate for the shallow beds. I watered the earth with the hose and managed to spray myself in the face, but fortunately the neighbors weren't in evidence.

The whole project took me over two hours and tonight, I feel unfamiliar aches in strange places. Marilyn tells me bulbs are very adaptable (idiot proof?), so I'm daring to hope for a small measure of success next April.