Wordless Wednesday: Tulipa 'Orange Surprise'

Peeking at petals

Remember only a few short weeks ago, when the only way we could enjoy spring-flowering bulbs was to have them indoors, either as bulbs or as cut flowers?

Well, those options are still available, at least with tulips. I can't resist tulips as cut flowers, so I buy them quite regularly, and spend a good deal of time peeking into their silken secrets. I love the way tulip petals catch and hold and reflect light. It is no wonder that people have been maddened, and gladdened, by these luminous beauties for centuries.

But let's not mock the smaller, less showy bulbs of spring. The temperature has shot up gratifyingly in the past 36 hours. And with it, spring decided to kick into gear again in our soggy, still cluttered but happy yard.

I love crocus. Especially I love stalking them, watching them as they act coy in cloudy weather or early/late in the day.

I love watching them get happy in the sunlight and offer their petals up in exultation to the rites of spring. Nothing April Foolish about their colours. No photoshopping here. Just happy flowers in spring light.

I have a whack of pink chionodoxas planted in my gravel-garden-in-progress, and they are multiplying nicely every year. They also bloom before their blue siblings in another part of the garden.

And the striped squill, or puschkinia, are also multiplying nicely. These are all low-growing bulbs, barely out of the ground before they're in flower. They're tricky to photograph especially if you're like me: a gardener and writer who takes photos but isn't a real photographer. So I find the best way to learn is by experimenting.

The snowdrops are still doing their thing in great glee. In fact, some of them, in more shaded parts of the garden, are just popping up now. LongSufferingSpouse hasn't done a snowdrop count yet, but I suspect that will happen today. This darling double lifted her head enough that I could get an almost-focused look at her ruffled skirts.

Meanwhile, the big patches of doubles are happily stretching themselves a little taller, and opening their blossoms a little bit more with each passing day.


Friday afternoon, the sun really pushed away any lingering clouds, the temperature grew warmer and warmer, and the gorgeous orange stamens on the crocus proved irresistible for more than one honeybee seeking a lunch. I felt sort of like I was a peeping jodi watching this one snuggle gleefully into the flower.

And this one, basking in some fully open pink glories-of-the-no-more-snow, seemed to pause and pose for the camera. It's official, even in Scotts Bay. Nature declares that spring is with us, at least for a day or two.

I hope that whatever you may be celebrating this weekend fills you with great joy, and also that you have time to marvel at the perfection of petals. Let us all, like Margaret Atwood says, come into the house smelling of dirt.

Petals of Light...Parrot Tulips

AS we trudge on through March, I do all kinds of things to help me cope while others are celebrating spring's arrival. Yesterday, a bunch of tulips in the grocery store caught my eye, and climbed into my cart. Who was I to argue?

I divided them into two vases and put some in the kitchen (warmest room in the house) and some in my office (coolest room). It doesn't take long for them to respond to the temperatures. 

These are parrot tulips, called Libretto Parrot. I hadn't seen them before, and normally I go for the more flamboyant parrots. But I liked the subtle freshness of these. A woman who used to work for the Bulb Information Centre told me that she thought parrots look like technicolour lettuces. I see her point. 

At first, tulips in a vase splay every which way, but this morning the office tulips, still more closed than the kitchen vase, stood up pertly and offered their petals for inspection. 

I explained to the kitties that these tulips had frilled edges to their petals, but I didn't want to see teethmark 'frills'. They've been very good and left them alone. 

Even though the natural light wasn't perfect, I didn't want to use my flash to explore the tulips subtle beauties. Their petals are so lustrous, translucent and light-holding, and the secrets in their hearts make me smile and smile. (I was too lazy to go out to my camera bag in the car trunk and get the macro lens this morning. Maybe tomorrow). 

Gazing into these perfect petals, I am sure that spring will eventually find its way to us, even to my high windy hill.