When I moved into my house, I bought two bags of tulip bulbs from Jackson and Perkins, an Oregon-based flower and plant company. My yard is composed of clay soil that requires a pneumatic drill to penetrate, so I bought a bunch of pots and boxes and things like that and planted the bulbs. I was ridiculously pleased that they came up and bloomed. The strange part about this was that although the bulbs were mixed together randomly in the bags, I somehow managed to plant them so that they are grouped by color. Stranger still, there are two different shades of yellow and two shades of pink, and the similar shades were planted together, although they weren’t marked in any way.
This year the tulips are coming up again, despite my having forgotten to feed the poor things or do anything to refresh the soil they’ve been sitting in. As a result, the leaves look a little moth-eaten, but then, I don’t look so good these days either, so I’m not in a position to criticize. Having seen the tulips come up and bloom last year, the initial thrill of that was gone, but I was delighted to see that most of the bulbs have split, so now I have twice as many flowers. They’re smaller, but there are more of them. I had been told that bulbs do this, so I don’t know why I was surprised when they did what they were supposed to do. I wonder if I should transplant them into a bigger container before next spring. Probably I’ll forget, and I’ll once agan forget to feed them, and sooner or later they’ll give up and die from neglect.
Isn’t my optimism inspiring?
April 15, 2008 at 6:25 am |
So, in other words, you are bound and sure that nothing good will happen, and if something good happens by accident, you’ll make sure to neglect it with more focus and concentration until nothing good happens fer sure.
You go, boy. I drive the same junker car on the same dead end street.
April 15, 2008 at 6:26 am |
Your optimism is inspiring my Dear David, and I say ‘MY’ because right now I feel you are mine. I hope I do not offend. I guess because right now I feel we are sort of in the same boat…
I would love to see the flowers, they must be beautiful! I tried planting tulip bulbs and they flowered only once. The following year nothing flowered. I tried digging up the bulbs and could not find them… who knows where they went…
I’m laughing at myself…
April 15, 2008 at 9:53 am |
Julia — Squirrels and chipmunks will sometimes dig up bulbs and eat them. I don’t know whether you have that type of rodent in Mexico, but if you do, that might be where they went.
Mr. R — Yep, that’s a pretty accurate summation. I do intend to transplant the bulbs and feed them, but I have an amazing ability to forget.
April 15, 2008 at 10:33 am |
At least you got two seasons out of them. I can’t grow plants at all, even killed an air fern once.
April 15, 2008 at 12:15 pm |
“although the bulbs were mixed together randomly in the bags, I somehow managed to plant them so that they are grouped by color.”
The Force is strong in you, young Rochester.
April 16, 2008 at 8:40 am |
David, I admire your optimism. Mine is so absent that I don’t even go out and get the bulbs, let alone follow through on planting them! I know I’ll kill them so why bother getting them to begin with?
April 16, 2008 at 8:44 am |
Neglect is the only gardening style I can manage.
April 16, 2008 at 10:54 am |
Marianna — It’s a time-honored style around here, too.
Corina — Wow, you’re right … you’re even less optimistic than I am.
O’T — That’s as good an explanation as any I can come up with.
Shawn — No, really? That’s scary. *backing slowly away from the screen*
April 17, 2008 at 4:39 am |
I’m always surprised when something works like it’s supposed to, especially living things like plants.
April 17, 2008 at 12:49 pm |
lol, inspiring, oui.
That’s kinda baffling that you managed to color coordinate like, accidentally. Maybe you’re a minor tulip deity… *nods*