Last fall, I decided to plant some spring-blooming bulbs. Crocuses and daffodils, to add a bit more early spring color. I love planting a few low-maintenance perennials each year. Each year, I try to be mindful, adding a few new plants that add beauty and utility to the farm. I've always been a bit envious of places with flowers that seem to progress effortlessly in a stream of blooms throughout the year. Dan used to tell me not to be jealous, as those places had folks who had spent years of free time and money getting there, or obviously had landscapers. We're so busy, we have our hands full just trying to maintain the gardens without worrying about flower beds as well. But bit by bit, I tuck away a few new perennials, herbs and/or bulbs. At first, I just wanted flowers, pretty colors. I'm always tempted when I see bags of bulbs in big box stores or seed catalogs at irresistible prices. But like most of my projects on the farm, the more I learn, the more I refine what my vision looks like. A steady stream of flowers, appearing from early spring until well into the fall, help to attract pollinators. We don't raise bees currently, but we still depend on wild populations to help the garden and produce lots of our crops. Providing additional food sources for the bees helps them survive in this current crisis, where many hives are dying. Dan and I have also thought about adding a hive or two to the farm sometime, and although we haven't yet to date, having established flowers full of pollen and nectar blooming from spring to fall would only help to make that endeavor a success.
There are lots of plants with pretty flowers which are also useful edible blossoms, tubers or leaves. Ones that can be used in body care recipes, teas, potpourri, or medicinally. I figure it doesn't matter if I actually use them for these purposes, especially just as I plant them, I want them to establish themselves for years of low-maintenance blossoms. But it's fun to know the possibility is there! Also, just as there are breeds of livestock and vegetables that have been around for generations but are now hard to find and in danger of going extinct, the same is true for flowers. Just as with vegetables, old varieties of flowers fall out of favor, replaced by new and flashier hybrids. Old heirlooms disappear from the catalogs and fade away. These, of course, are what I long to plant. I resisted the siren song of readily available bulbs last fall and searched online for heirloom bulbs, and found a company called Old House Gardens Heirloom Bulbs. They offer only heirlooms, and like Seed Savers Exchange does for food plants, they are making old varieties of flowers available to passionate planters like me. I ordered 2 kinds of crocus and three kinds of daffodils. (I couldn't pick just one of each!!) I was very pleased with the size and quality of the bulbs last fall, and tucked them into the farm's soil when they arrived and hoped for the best.
There are lots of plants with pretty flowers which are also useful edible blossoms, tubers or leaves. Ones that can be used in body care recipes, teas, potpourri, or medicinally. I figure it doesn't matter if I actually use them for these purposes, especially just as I plant them, I want them to establish themselves for years of low-maintenance blossoms. But it's fun to know the possibility is there! Also, just as there are breeds of livestock and vegetables that have been around for generations but are now hard to find and in danger of going extinct, the same is true for flowers. Just as with vegetables, old varieties of flowers fall out of favor, replaced by new and flashier hybrids. Old heirlooms disappear from the catalogs and fade away. These, of course, are what I long to plant. I resisted the siren song of readily available bulbs last fall and searched online for heirloom bulbs, and found a company called Old House Gardens Heirloom Bulbs. They offer only heirlooms, and like Seed Savers Exchange does for food plants, they are making old varieties of flowers available to passionate planters like me. I ordered 2 kinds of crocus and three kinds of daffodils. (I couldn't pick just one of each!!) I was very pleased with the size and quality of the bulbs last fall, and tucked them into the farm's soil when they arrived and hoped for the best.
This spring, I've been quite excited that all the bulbs have at least produced leaves. I wouldn't hold it against them if they didn't bloom, I would just be happy to see them grow and establish and promise color in coming years. But to my great delight, I'm getting not only leaves, but blooms, too! The striped crocus is called King of the Striped, and is a Victorian variety that dates to 1880. The gorgeous blooms the color of a farm-fresh egg yolk belong to the Mammoth Yellow crocus, which to my knowledge is the oldest cultivar I've ever planted, dating all the way back to 1665! (No, that isn't a typo, this variety has really been around for over 300 years.) I'm excited to enjoy these heirloom treasures, but I have bigger plans, too. Bulbs that are planted will reproduce if they are planted in a suitable spot. Of course, this will take years, but to maintain a bed of beautiful blossoms, it will be necessary to thin out the bulbs from time to time. I've gone as far as to draw up a map of what flowers I have planted, with notes as to which exact varieties are there. I can keep track of what comes up and what does not. And so, when they multiply and I need to thin them out, I'll know just what I have.
This way, I can offer beautiful, heirloom bulbs that do well here in northwestern Pennsylvania to our farm stand customers. It won't be a yearly crop, more like an occasional one. But it's a very low-labor one. I get to just enjoy them without any effort most years, and share the excess when it happens. One of my long-term goals is to make the farm both as beautiful and as useful as I possibly can. And just like the heirloom apple trees I'll be planting next year, this is a project that could well outlive me. When I hike or travel old back roads that pass through what used to be homesteads, they are often marked by a few foundation stones and what blooms. Hardy things, like chives, lilies, fruit trees, iris, or daffodils. The wooden structures are gone, the folks who planted them likely have passed on, but the flowers remain. So I feel I've taken the path that speaks to my heart, and am glad I spent the extra money to be tending antique bulbs rather than any popular thing. And as I stare down the one-year anniversary of losing my younger brother this week, I of course have thoughts of my own mortality. While I hope I'm here for many more years, it brings me a small measure of comfort that even when I am gone, the next year, and many years after, there will still be flowers. Gorgeous flowers, rare flowers, flowers that I may, in some small way, help to steward into the next generation.
This way, I can offer beautiful, heirloom bulbs that do well here in northwestern Pennsylvania to our farm stand customers. It won't be a yearly crop, more like an occasional one. But it's a very low-labor one. I get to just enjoy them without any effort most years, and share the excess when it happens. One of my long-term goals is to make the farm both as beautiful and as useful as I possibly can. And just like the heirloom apple trees I'll be planting next year, this is a project that could well outlive me. When I hike or travel old back roads that pass through what used to be homesteads, they are often marked by a few foundation stones and what blooms. Hardy things, like chives, lilies, fruit trees, iris, or daffodils. The wooden structures are gone, the folks who planted them likely have passed on, but the flowers remain. So I feel I've taken the path that speaks to my heart, and am glad I spent the extra money to be tending antique bulbs rather than any popular thing. And as I stare down the one-year anniversary of losing my younger brother this week, I of course have thoughts of my own mortality. While I hope I'm here for many more years, it brings me a small measure of comfort that even when I am gone, the next year, and many years after, there will still be flowers. Gorgeous flowers, rare flowers, flowers that I may, in some small way, help to steward into the next generation.