There's Lilies and then there's Daylilies...

It's that time of year when daylilies are popping out everywhere, and sure as eggs are eggs, someone will innocently refer to them as 'lilies'. So I thought that it was time to have a quiet chat about some of the differences between the two families of flowering plants. 

Daylilies: Botanical name is Hemerocallis, which translates from the Greek to "beauty for a day". Which, coincidentally, is the length of time each individual flower on a plant lasts. There are a few different species of Hemerocallis, but thousands, and I do mean thousands, of named cultivars.

Lilies: Botanical name is Lilium. These are the true lilies. There are a number of different species of lilies, including Orientals, Asiatics, Martagon, and many others. But they're all true lilies. 

(Golden Stargazer, an Oriental lily, highly fragrant and gorgeous.)

Daylilies grow from thick, fleshy tubers or rhizomes. Here's a photo of some daylily roots. Each one holds one crown, or "fan" of daylily leaves.

True lilies grow from scaly bulbs. The above photo shows a typical lily bulb, with its fleshy scales. Roots grow out of the bottom of the bulb, while the new plant emerges from the growing tip. (from The Suburban Gardener's blog, a useful resource with lots of photos of different types of lilies).

Daylilies have grassy foliage. The flowers are held on sturdy stems called scapes, which emerge from the crown (growing point) of the plant. Each scape can hold many individual flowers, and some scapes are branched and have even more flowers. The first year or so of a daylily's life it may only have one or two scapes, but as the plants multiply they produce many more scapes and many more flowers. (This is a fancy variety called Spacecoast Gone Bulldogging', at Canning Daylily Gardens here in Canning, NS.

True lilies have a central stem with leaves arranged in a whorl all around the stem. The flowers are born at or near the top of that stem. (I've had this Asiatic lily for years and have no idea what its name is. Big, vigourous and deep pink, no scent of course).

At a place like Canning Daylily Gardens, you'll see hundreds of different varieties of daylilies, in a huge array of colours. It's a great place to go to get excited about growing these wonderful plants, which are quite easy to grow.

This is 'Luzia', a white Oriental lily, showing its cluster of buds arranged at the top of the plant. Some true lilies are dwarf and suited to growing in containers, while others are best grown in a garden setting. 

('Starman's Quest', one of my favourite daylilies. It is quite near another favourite, Timelord. Alas, there is no Tardis daylily, yet.)

The flowers of daylilies are edible and often used as garnishes or in salads. However, if you're a pet owner, please be aware that the aerial parts (the stamens and carpal, or the sexy bits) are moderately toxic to animals. That said, the entry on Hemerocallis in Mind-Altering and Poisonous Plants of the World is very brief.

This species of lily has been in my garden since before we bought the place, so I'm not certain of the species and don't know the variety at all. It's lovely, and a later-bloomer.)

The flowers of true lilies, however, are toxic in all their parts, especially to cats. I have a friend who very nearly lost one of her cats when it got pollen on its coat and, being a cat, groomed it off. While I grow all kinds of lilies and over a hundred different daylilies in my garden, I leave all of them outdoors to be enjoyed, and leave the cats indoors where they are safe. It just makes sense to me.

There, hopefully this brief primer will help people to understand why daylily enthusiasts correct those who refer to their plants as 'lilies.' Both families have plenty of amazing cultivars to choose from, but neither of them have true blue flowers. So maybe that's a project we can work on!

Almost Wordless Wednesday: Spring bulbs are a'springing!

Although much of North America has been revelling in bulbs for weeks now, we here in cool-spring Nova Scotia are just really getting going with bulbs in earnest. They are mostly the 'small wonders' so far--the glory of the snow, snowdrops, scilla, crocus and such--but they present such a brilliant and welcome blanket of colour wherever they are. They are a joy, and while we wait for spring to warm up and things to get going, we can use such joys.

Oh and by the way--we heard Spring Peepers on Sunday night here in Scotts Bay, and the night before in Yarmouth. So no matter what weather is hurled at us, spring is officially here in my books.

"April is the Cruelest Month..."

It shouldn't be at all surprising that TS Eliot is one of this English major's favourite authors, and The Waste Land one of my favourite poems. Yes, it's complex, and most people don't know more than the first few lines, which sum up the current situation in my garden:

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.

From Corylus to Crocus, March goes out like a Lamb

After nearly a week of galeforce, chilly winds blasting down on us, the last day of March came ambling along like a sweet, fluffy lamb; warm, and soft. The crocuses just leapt into action immediate, popping up like colourful dots all over the garden.

Blooming Friday: False Starts

Although I wrote in my last post that we have flower buds in the garden and the snow is nearly gone, we aren't going to bask in complacency just yet. It's still Farch in Nova Scotia, and one thing our weather is known for is its treachery. When this photo was taken, it had been a lovely sunny day til mid-afternoon, and by near-suppertime it was snowing fiercely.

The first buds are the sweetest...

After a couple of crazy days away doing book stuff, it was so good to get home last night, even driving in fog and rain. This morning we woke to more fog and more rain, but when I looked out the window as I drank my coffee, I spied something...

The first snowdrop.

Jubilation reigned.

Midweek Farch Miscellany: Ice, cold, and dreams of daffodils

Trying to be optimistic here, as we have had two outbursts of really bad weather in the past 5 days. This has resulted in more snow, but also bouts of rain and freezing rain, resulting in a glacier in most of the yard. The good news is, the snow isn't blowing around. The bad news is...the horse and donkey would need ice skates crossed with snowshoes to be able to cope with being outdoors. So they are barn-grumpy.

Still, there is plenty of beauty to behold, like these seedheads of inula against a wintery sky...

Getting your amaryllis to rebloom

November is a funny month, and I mean funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha. Days when the sun is out and everything is awash in golden light, I appreciate and even revel in the natural world around me. Days like the last few, which have been varying shades of grey with sometimes heavy rain, make me want to pull the covers over my head, drink coffee and read books until the sun comes out again. That’s okay, except such behaviour doesn’t pay the bills! We are, however, rewarded sometimes with splendid sunsets, and those cheer me and give me something to celebrate for Skywatch Fridays.

Thank you for all the comments and suggestions following my previous post. To follow up with a request I had via my Facebook Fan Page, I know that many people are perplexed with trying to get amaryllis to rebloom. I normally have no problem with getting them to come around in subsequent years, providing two things:

1. That I didn't water-force them. I find forcing bulbs of any sort in water will so exhaust them that it's not worth the effort to try to bring them around again. The exception would be if you planted your amaryllis bulb into soil after it finished blooming, so that it could take up nutrients and store them.

2. That I'm using quality bulbs, such as those sold by Halifax Seed, Botanus, or GardenImport. Those cut-price bulbs at grocery stores, bigboxes, etc? They're generally lower-grade, smaller bulbs and while they might come back in subsequent years, I find the better the quality the more likelihood of success.

So, for reblooming: after your amaryllis bulb has finished blooming, cut the spent flowerstalk off and let the foliage grow through the winter. When the risk of frost is past (late May here in my part of Nova Scotia, may be earlier or later where you are, put the pots of amaryllis outside for the summer, watering occasionally if needed.

When the leaves begin to fade, and before autumn frost, remove the bulbs from their pots, cut the leaves back to the neck (the top of the bulb from whence the growth comes), clean the dirt off and store the bulbs in a cool, dry, dark place for 6-8 weeks. Some people leave them in the pots, but I like to give them a complete break from any temptation to grow. Remember to store them somewhere that is free of any ripening fruit; apples, pears and other fruit give off ethylene gas as they ripen, and this gas can kill the flower embryos inside bulbs.

At the end of 6-8 weeks, replant your amaryllis bulbs in fresh potting mix, and bring them into a well-lit, but not hot, location; I normally put mine in the east-facing windows of the kitchen or office. Usually, the bulbs will start to grow shoots within a couple of weeks, and flower within 6-8 weeks of this replanting.
I stress that USUALLY, amaryllis bulbs will behave in this manner following such treatment. Not always. And then there was the time I forgot they were downstairs (in my defence, it was the autumn of major surgery) had bought several new ones...and found the old ones quite dessicated, some months later. They made good compost.

Almost Wordless Wednesday on Thursday: Forever Autumn

My apologies for being silent the past few days. As many people know, I'm going to have a new book coming out in late winter or early spring next year through Nimbus Publishing. We're into the latter stages of editing before it goes to press, and combining that with my regular work that pays the bills...I'm a wee bit swamped. Or feeling windblown and defoliated, like this tree at my alma mater, the Nova Scotia Agricultural College. Please bear with me, and I'll be back to my normal chatty self as soon as possible, which includes visiting plenty of other blogs.

I'll leave you with a question: what sorts of topics would you like to see covered here on Bloomingwriter in the coming months? We bloggers tend to post more during the winter months when we can't do so much gardening outdoors, so we read, talk, sleep and dream about plants and gardening. I have promised some info on how to get an amaryllis to rebloom, so look for that coming up fairly soon.

Tulips and Narcissus and Alliums, oh my! More Burblings on Bulbs

With a long-awaited improvement in the weather, it's time to return to talking about plants instead of other matters. Not that the other matters aren't important, of course--just that with a name like Bloomingwriter, one would expect that most of the discussion here would be about plants.

This time we're looking at larger flowered spring bulbs, the ones that tend to make a big splash of colour: tulips, narcissus/daffodils, and alliums. There's still plenty of time to plant bulbs, and you can still order from some companies, although the best selection is already sold. If you bought your bulbs already and it hasn't been fit to plant, remember to store them in a cool dry place but away from ripening fruit, which can kill bulb flower embryos.

You'll notice quite a few white-flowered varieties in this post, for several reasons. One, despite the fact that these plants flower after winter is past, I actually relish the sight of pure white or white-mixed flowers against a backdrop of gradually greening landscape. The White Hood daffodils in the preceding photo are one of my favourites, and multiply like crazy year after year. Likewise, the poeticus narcissus (pheasants eye) in the second photo from the top is a late blooming favourite, highly fragrant and unusual to look at.


Additionally, the good people at the International Flower Bulb Centre provide garden writers with a box of bulbs every autumn, and for two years in a row we received a host of white-flowering bulbs, including the miniature, doubled Sir Winston Churchill daffodil.

This means that I can usually remember the name of the bulb, if it was planted in the last couple of years, because I've made notes and kept them all in one place. With some of the other bulb varieties, like this pinkishsalmon and yellow bicolour daffodil, I don't remember the names, sadly.If you do, please feel free to suggest in the comments!

When growers make reference to pink daffodils, this is what they mean; usually a white or soft yellow ring of petals surrounding a cup of pinkish, salmon, or pale rose. I THINK this is Pink Charm, but I've had it from years and it suffers from LostLabel (LOLA) syndrome. It's a beauty, freshly different from the standard yellows, yellow and white or yellow and orange options.

Daffodils and alliums share something in common: both are quite deer resistant, because either the bulbs are toxic (in the case of daffodils) or highly distasteful to eat (in the case of alliums). Both are an excellent alternative, along with the fritillaria we mentioned last time, if you are plagued with deer or other animal problems. This is one of my favourite alliums, 'Caeruleum', which means blue. And it certainly is blue. Many alliums will self seed and multiply over the years, and this one does, but never invasively.

For something amusing and unusual, look for 'Hair' allium. The green tendrils emerge first, and can be quite attractive especially if planted with something that provides a strong, large textured foliage as a backdrop.

Star of Persia (Allium Christophii) is amazing for its late blooming, round balls of starry flowers, which later become excellent seedheads for later season interest.

And now, the tulips. There are so many different species, divisions, and colours of tulips, we can't draw attention to them all here. But there are a couple of things to know. One, deer love them. Two, many tulips, to bring the best bloom, like this Apricot Parrot above and the Flame Parrot at the top of this post, need to be treated as annuals and planted yearly. The main exceptions are the Triumphs, the Darwins, the Fosterianas, and the species tulips.

Species tulips tend to be small, low growing, and less showy than their flamboyant cousins, making them ideal for front of border or in rock garden plantings. This is Tulipa turkestanica, which produces clusters of small, white flowered flowers with yellow centres. Species tulips will often colonize if they're happy, although they are slower to spread than other bulbs.


This is a happy spring mixture including some parrot tulips (with the ruffled, flounced petals) some pheasants eye narcissus, and in the centre, one viridiflora tulip, possibly Deirdre, which is a green on green variety.

These are called lily-flowered tulips, easily identifiable with their vaselike shape. This variety is 'Marilyn', planted in honour of my late mother in law.

The slowly opening 'White Parrot' is a later blooming variety that looks something like a white peony as it opens.

The insides of tulips are often gorgeous, as you can see with Tulipa hageri 'Little Beauty'. This darling grows only 4-6 inches tall, with shimmering violet petals that flex open in sunlight, then close up with the onset of evening or cool weather. They work well in amongst crocus, snowdrops, and dwarf iris.

Finally, a couple more white-flowered tulips: the double white Mt. Tacoma, which looks even more like a peony with all its ruffled petals; and the clean green and white lines of 'Spring Green', a viridiflora that has been quite robust for me. My personal favourites are the viridifloras, the parrots, and the tiny, demure species.

One more thing. If you're heading out to plant bulbs this weekend, please promise me that you will plant them in groups of 5, 7, 9...not in straight rows like little soldiers? And try doing one or two colours at the most ina grouping, rather than a jumble of colours. You'll get more bang for your bulb that way.

A Remedy for NO-vember: spring bulbs indoors & out

It's no secret that NO-vember is my least favourite month in the calendar. The lack of light gets to me, and today, the first day of going back to Atlantic Standard Time, it's dark at just after 5 pm. We've been deluged with rain the past several days too, so it's dreary and dark and soggy outside. HOWEVER...

...I did get a significant number of spring flowering bulbs planted before the rains started. The anticipation of them is a balm for the soul--remembering springs past, and springs to come. When I plant bulbs, I think of Stan Rogers' song The Field Behind the Plow, and though I'm not planting food crops, I like to think of planting bulbs like Stan felt about planting grain or potatoes or whatever, as putting "Another season's promise in the ground."

Bulbs amaze me. Those insignificant looking little nubbly lumps of plant material disappear deep into the garden's beds and borders, sleep for a few months, then burst forth in a rainbow of colour. From the most exotic to the (some might say) humble crocus, they're all wonderful.

The tenacity and determination of Galanthus (snowdrops) delights me. Some years, they're pushing through melting snow in their haste to get up and blooming. They shrug off frosts, and multiply each year.

Are you acquainted with Leucojum, given the common name of Summer Snowflake? For many, they bloom in late spring rather than summer, but in our cooler spring garden they have held on until well into June. Think of them as something like taller, elegant snowdrops. I think they're underused and wonderful.

Another of my favourite small wonders is Puschkinia, or striped squill. It's an early bloomer too, following along after the snowdrops and usually accompanying the hellebores. This is another colonizer, great for rock gardens and front-of-border plantings.

Alliums are fabulous, deer resistant, come in all sorts of colours and sizes...some have excellent, longlasting seedheads, and some self seed, like the amusing 'Hair', which I'll show in the next post.

Another excellent and later blooming species is Sicilian honeybells, Allium bulgaricum (formerly Nectaroscordum siculum or N. bulgaricum). It's another favourite, so unique with its green, purple and white bell clusters.

The petite Iris species like I. reticulata are enthusiastic bloomers, barely clearing the soil before their colourful blossoms form a petite-pointe against the awakening soil.

For those who crave true-blue flowers, you can't go wrong with scilla, or squill, with its nodding, cobalt blue flowers. Scilla forms gradual colonies and works well under deciduous shrubs and mixed with taller bulbs such as daffodils and early to midseason tulips.
Fritillaria are another great choice for those plagued by deer and squirrels in their gardens. This is the chequered or snakeshead lily, F. meleagris. Frits can be bothered by scarlet lily beetle, although I've never encountered this as a problem.

Chionodoxa is commonly called glory-of-the-snow, and is another of my favourite small wonders for the front of borders or in rock gardens. When happy, they gradually form nice colonies in blue, white...

or pink! They are very popular with early pollinators, as are the crocus.

The first time I planted winter aconite, I put them in too soggy an area of the garden, and they didn't come back for me. This year, I've put them in what I hope is a more convivial situation (although with all this rain, everything is currently soggy!) and I hope they'll delight me with their cheery little flowers.

Don't forget to plant some bulbs for indoor colour; you can often purchase pretreated hyacinths, which you just plant and wait to bloom, or else you can buy the less expensive untreated bulbs, give them 14 weeks of cool temperatures (under 45 degrees F) and then bring them into bloom. They were a real boon to me last winter. Just the thought of them makes the day a little brighter.

Next time: the bigger, showoff bulbs: tulips, daffodils, and more alliums. Do you have all your bulbs planted yet?