tulips – Garden Gate Flowers

Tulip Maniac

Contrary to TS Eliot’s assertions, this year April has been the kindest month. Dry and sunny, without being too hot. I read that bluebells have been flowering a fortnight earlier as a result of the weather patterns over the autumn and winter adn we saw plenty of them at Easter in Devon. Particularly pleasing as they were more often English bluebells, rather than unscented Spanish bullies that we tend to see around here, and which are resident in the Midlife Garden.

While it has been a good year for the Bluebells, our tulips were not as numerous as last year and it seemed they finished earlier too. I was correct in sayign numbers were down, but I was mistaken in thinking they gave up sooner. Checking my Google Photos, April was the only month we were cutting tulips in 2025.By May, they were blown, despite purchasing bulbs that the supplier assured us range in flowering time from March to May.

One month is worth it, though. And while there might have been fewer blooms, we really made those tulips work. Throughout April we were supplying bunches to our lovely local farm shop outlets at Kimbers’ and Buffalicious, where they have been enthusiastically received. It was hardly the Tulip Mania of the 1600s, but they sold well.

As we cut the last tulips, Mrs B expressed concern that we were running out of flowers all together. But she need not fear, as nature (and a reasonably well-organised gardener) finds a way, with Hesperis and Honesty stepping up to the floral plate and (whisper it low) the mighty Ranunculus are finally showing some buds.

Buttercups Runneth Over

In January I reported on my continuing efforts to grow Ranunculus. Commonly known as Persian Buttercups, these flowers were initially a breeze for me to grow, but more recently they seem to just die for no reason. I have no idea why.

But this year, I seem to have cracked it, thanks to some info sourced on the internet. The method involves starting the corms packed tightly together in a shallow seed tray, barely covered by compost. Given a light watering, within a few weeks there were small shoots coming through. I transferred them to 9cm pots and now every single corm is flourishing. All 101 of them. It seems too easy. I do not have the early blooms that I have tried for in previous years (and often failed) but maybe it is worth the delay.

Last week, we were in a ‘collab’ producing flowers for Ellie’s wedding (daughter of our good friends Steve and Lesley). It was joyful affair and we felt honoured to be able to contribute to the day in such a positive way. Being so early in the year, it was touch and go as to what stems we would be able to provide, but in the absence of any early ranunculus, the Garden Gate tulips came good, doing much of the floral heavy lifting. But ranunculus was there too, albeit stems that had been sourced from a Devon flower farm by our collaborator, Nat, Ellie’s sister-in-law. Nat was the primary organiser of the arrangements and utilised the ranunculus to create some wonderful bridal bouquets and buttonholes. She had also made some awesome dried flower rings for the smallest bridesmaids. It was a pleasure working with Nat.

I have said it many times, how gardening and horticulture teaches us about patience and humility. Our flowers bloomed because of some careful planning, nurturing and, above all, time. We did not have to shout, swear or use excessive force to get the results we wanted.

Although we might not have had ranunculus in time for the April wedding, we are quietly confident of a good crop of them in due course. As the Middle East is in danger of being bombed ‘back to the Stone Ages’ by our one-time allies, it seems ironic that I am about to produce my best crop of Persian Buttercups.

In the Green Mid Winter

The Winter Solstice.

Winter Table Decorations for the Local Farmshop Cafe

Eight and a half thousand people gathered to see the sun rise behind the Heel Stone and send its first rays into the heart of Stonehenge on the shortest day of the year.We assume the Ancients celebrated the Solstice because from now daylight hours will start to increase. In the middle of winter, we can just begin to feel a little hopeful, with spring just over the horizon.

Like an ancient pagan, I invest more hope in the solstice with each passing year. I will be looking at the garden for those green shoots which might be groping for the lengthening days. Goodness in the dark days of winter. For me, those green shoots would normally be garlic and onions, but in a change of tack in the Midlife Garden, we have not planted garlic this year.

The other day I saw tiny little bulbs sprouting on the top of three of the Allium Ping Pong I planted last year. In 2025 they only partially flowered, because of the dry summer. Instead, they have produced a plethora of baby bulbs. So, I have stuffed them into pots – and, with any luck, I hope to plant them out in the early spring, when they could provide some colour and, perhaps, some income.

Elsewhere in the garden, I am hopeful the five hundred tulips have settled in and are not rotting under the heavy autumnal rain. Whenever I see Monty Don planting tulips, he bangs on about the need for ‘free draining soil,’ as he shovels grit into his pots. No grit in my tulip bed, but I remain positive.

Free drainage is not a great feature of our clay soil, which was one reason I did follow Monty’s advice with my Dahlias. I lifted them before the frost, even washing the soil off them, as per MD’s advice, and left them in the greenhouse to dry off. Whereupon the hard frost bit them, panicking me into wrapping them up and storing them in the garage. But, as they were still a bit damp, I only succeeded in creating the perfect conditions for many of them to rot. Maybe next time I’ll follow local advice and leave them in the ground, well-mulched. Where, I guess, the rain can rot them instead.

It would be easy to get disheartened when stuff wilts, rots, or dies in the garden, but gardening, by definition, is a pragmatic and uplifting activity, even in the depths of winter. In the greenhouse, there are plenty of seedlings doing well, with sweet peas just coming up and antirrhinums standing strong in their pots, ready for the new season. They might not be flowering by the first wedding of the year on 2^nd April (fingers crossed for the tulips on that one) but they will be going strong for a bride’s bouquet in July.

And that is what gardening does: it encourages us to look forward, with patience and positivity, and in the meantime, it keeps us stimulated and busy.

Is This a Pivot I see Before Me?

The business buzz word amongst some of my self-employed friends at the moment is “pivot”, to describe a changing of direction in one’s business or lifestyle and some have suggested that we might be mid-‘pivot’ in the Midlife Garden. It is true that ever since the ‘Invitation To Leave’ from my previous employer (I see it as an ‘inflection point’ in my life), I have been searching for an income stream that could be rewarding financially as well as emotionally. Clearly, this blog is never going to cover both those bases, so I knew I would have to be a ‘change agent’, taking a look at what I enjoy (apart from scribbling random words) and find something truly ‘transformative’ to ‘add value’ to my life (and bank balance).

Regular readers (both of you) will know how I find enormous emotional rewards in gardening. But after the success of the cut flowers on show at the 2024 WOTY*, I’ve joined forces with a neighbour to explore ways to monetise our blooming commodities.

First we decided to ‘segment’ this down, to ensure we had flowers for the whole summer. We took a deep dive, drilled down and, thinking outside the MLG box, we invested in dahlias. Previously regarded as blousy, ostentatious dandies that evoked memories of dreary seventies mixed borders, these could yet prove to be a game changer, producing blooms throughout autumn.

To move the needle for early blooms, we took a punt on tulips. We were ‘down on all fours’ with this, looking at it from the client’s-eye view and decided on Luxury Tulips: stems to mark us out from the ten-for-a-fiver supermarket types in dull hues of red and purple. So, posh tulips became the ‘moat’. We ‘swept the sheds’ to make it happen, to ‘action this solve’ and November saw us raking compost on then off, then onto the front bed to get the 500 bulbs to the perfect depth. We waited for April with crossed fingers.

We chose a price point, to give the customers ‘snackable content’ hoping they will be back for more when spring turns to summer. Unfortunately, the first stems were snackable to the point of stunted, but, they eventually reached their full potential, proving popular, if unprofitable. But not all stems will have the same base costs as posh tulips, so our ‘runway’ is longer than it might appear. The tulips were a loss leader, but a striking one at that.

We will take a ‘kaizen’ approach to improve all that we do as we try to get this thing off the ground (after mulching and watering it first).

By the end of the summer, we might have an answer to the question: is this just a side hustle or could I be pivoting from Ed Biz to Flower Biz? Only time, ‘brand positioning’, ‘demand generation’, ‘revenue performance management’ and the power of ‘the flywheel’ will tell.

*Wedding Of The Year

Spud You Like

Someone Told me to wash my silver birch... — Someone suggested cleaning my silver birch…

The February half term break feels like a significant moment in the horticultural year. Mrs B is fed up with the cold weather, but finally it seems the days are lengthening, and March is nearly upon us, which, nominally at least, is the start of spring. The growing season is imminent, but now I start waking in the night worrying that it is too late to sow annuals and veg seeds.

Last month Mrs B and I braved the winter chill to make the annual Potato Day pilgrimage to Caryford Hall, joining the line of fellow pilgrims earnestly shuffling past the colour-coded plastic tubs of first and second earlies or main crop chitters. Unusually, I went with little planning or forethought on what I wanted, or perhaps it signifies how I kinda know what I want these days, without having to overthink it. No plan was probably wise, as many of the spuds I would have grown in the past were not available, not even anything Arran based, so I randomly selected Jazzy, Pentland Javelin, and Caledonian Pearl. All of them are earlies, as these days I tend to agree with Mrs B’s view that main crop do not justify their space in the raised beds.

As we stood in line, I heard rumblings of discontent among the Potato Day punters.

“They’ve got no International Kidney and no Pink Fir Apple”, muttered one middle aged lady.

“Hmm. It’s a pretty crap year” was her husband’s considered reply, which I thought was little harsh, as the Pennard Plants staff always offered a couple of alternatives, but that just led to more earnest debates on their relative merits.

“What do you think love, Marvel, or Sunset?”

Apart from potatoes, I bought some chilli seeds and aubergine seeds, as they need an early start, and I am pleased to say they are already germinating. It is always exciting to see the first seedlings poking through. I never tire of this horticultural ‘miracle of birth’ which spurs me on to sow lots of annual flowers. The flowers seeds are germinating in the greenhouse, but I started the chillis and aubergines on the heated floor of the bathroom, which probably helped them, but created an element of jeopardy and mild peril for any nighttime trip to the toilet.

Just another reason why Mrs B cannot wait for the warmer weather arrive.

Light Bulb Moments

It’s been a busy autumn and winter in the midlife garden. We started by distributing two tons of revive compost around beds and borders after which started to make some strategic changes with plants. The Christmas tree was dug from the garden and taken inside for the festive period, and replaced by a mariessii, which was otherwise likely to partially block the front path in the summer.

When we realised the Christmas tree might have survived the indoor festivities we decided to place it in the back garden: an exercise which included the removal and replanting of bamboo from the garden and a pot. All of which brings instantaneous results.

Less instantaneous, but hopefully equally pleasing results, are hoped to be gained from the bulbs that we planted in the autumn.

In the veg patch that meant garlic and onions. The garlic is our go-to plant for mid-winter positivity, the green shoots reminding us that there is life in the midlife garden yet and I noticed this week even the onions are starting to show.

Beyond the veg patch, there is a plan for early spring flowers. We sowed various coloured ranunculus in pots in the greenhouse, but they have suffered repeated assaults, with some failing to germinate, some succumbing to damping off, while others fell victim to mice. A few doughty plants remain, like survivors at Rorke’s Drift. The dachshund has busied himself trying to dig up the mice.

Out in the borders, we have sown a bunch of allium bulbs (Ping Pong and Azureum) in the Spursy bed to provide a little early blue and white colour. But, the brightest spring moments are planned for the fruit tree bed, where, in between storms and prior to frosts, we managed to insert 600 tulips for cutting in the spring.

So, lots to look forward to, with crossed fingers.

Compost ready to go on the tulips — Prepping for tulips

Lockdown: You’ve Got to Roll With It

When I was young, quarantine was for dogs. Specifically, those coming from abroad. A stay of six months was the norm, although that was increased to twelve months for a while when a dog named Sessan died of rabies in Newmarket. These days quarantine is for humans – and it seems that dogs are our best way out of it, as it has been accepted that they need two exercises a day while we are allowed just the one.

Our Labrador Retriever celebrated the first day of lockdown by rolling in something unspeakable during our single excursion from the house. We have various names for the fields that we walk in, based on previous sightings and happenings. There is the Old Deer Field, the New Deer Field and the Ducking Pool (where Ella wades and slurps water before coughing like a Covid patient). There is also the Manor field, and the more descriptively labelled Dead Badger Field. To that list we can now add the Second Dead Badger Field (DBF II). We had to keep the dog down wind from us as we strode home.

I was deputed to put on my own Personal Protection Equipment, consisting of rubber gloves and an old anorak, which is not dissimilar to what the Government is supplying “our” NHS, it seems. The dog herself could not understand the fuss and took it all as her own PPE (Personal Pampering for Ella). So, after anointing herself with the odour of badger carcass, she now got to choose from a range of shampoos, left over from the Christmas hamper, with which to have a wash and shake. She went for ‘After the Rain’ (from Arran Aromatics) and she looked gorgeous on it. Fluffy and happy, smelling like a Highland Hunting party: notes of heather and gorse, with a hint of rotting cadaver on the finish.

Ella does not see Lockdown as a problem and does not understand the concept of Social Distancing either; wandering out into the lane every time another villager walks past on their daily exercise. It is not that she is being sociable – she is simply checking their pockets for biscuits.

Self-isolation is something that the hen has decided she is going to rebel against too, as she escaped from her run twice yesterday and attempted to scratch away at the flowers coming up in the cold spring sunshine. We sent her packing with a warning – next time it will be a fine, or perhaps a really hard stare from our Prime Minister.

That should do it.

Back in Isolation

Daffs and stuff

Tulip testing the cold air

Crocuses & Tulip leaves

Perennial seedlings

Same Old Same Old

It’s been a while since I posted, which suggests that I have not done a great deal in the garden – which is true, and fills me with mild panic that I might be lagging behind in preparation for the coming growing season. So I took a quick look at what I did during February and March in the previous years and it was both reassuring and rather bitter-sweet.

In 2013 it was raining hard in February as I cleaned the greenhouse. A year later it was raining even harder and the levels were under water. But the Old Man had a trailer of ten tons of manure delivered. (That manure was finally finished last autumn when I gave up chiseling away at the last compacted layer of it).

In February 2015 I cleared the Silver Wedding and Boomerang beds and potted up plants that would eventually populate the new boomerang. I was still harvesting Red Kale and the new hens’ run was being built (with the help of Jim) by the cow stall. And last year I was in Arran, enjoying the Scottish air, but feeling the first symptoms of heart disease. I put my little chitters out a couple of weeks after potato day and planted my tomatoes and chillis.

A year on and I approach spring with a shiny new stent in a coronary artery, a greenhouse that still looks like my artery did a year ago, but with a bunch of seedlings that are sprouting strongly.

Since my last post The Old Man has been in hospital recovering from his fall while I have been dealing with the usual at sporting issues at school. But now it’s holiday time and an afternoon in the garden simply weeding, mulching and planting gladdens the heart – with or without a stent.

Winter tassles

White Sprouting

Tulips emergin

The aftermath of Storm Doris

Chitting

Best parsnips. Ever

Where did the other half of the Blue Cedar go?

Light Bulb Moments

161031-2 We didn’t manage to get away for half term this year as my school once again made me an offer I could not refuse and I instead found myself organising and leading a half term hockey camp for a visiting prep school. But rather than dwell on the places I could have gone, I was able to appreciate how lucky we are to live where we do. And at this time of year, with this sort of weather, Somerset is not a bad place to be.

Some see autumn as a depressing season, but I have always enjoyed it. When I was younger this was probably because I could look forward to my birthday but, with advancing years, somehow a birthday is not the harbinger of good tidings like it used to be. Instead I enjoy autumn for the glorious colours of the trees, for the incoming migratory birds and for days like today, which presented the opportunity to be out on such a gloriously sunny November morning.

After taking the dogs for a walk the main order of the day was more planting. This year we are going large (super size perhaps) on bulbs. Over the last couple of days I have planted 200 tulips as well as an indeterminate number of ranunculus. I planted a load of the latter in tubs last winter and although I did get a good number of blooms I think I could have done better by giving them more space – as well as feeding them more often. So this year I am hedging my bets: some in pots, some in the greenhouse and some in the cutting patch.

The tulips have gone in what was the lily pond – now renamed the tulip bed and reshaped to fit the theme. But again I am not putting all my eggs in one basket or bulbs in one bed, and have planted some in the cutting patch too. All of this would have been a lot harder if Mrs B had not invested in a bulb planter – a tool I had not come across before, but which I will never be without from now on. In making a hole for the bulb, the planter takes what looks like a core sample of soil which ultimately is deposited on the ground. After while your bed is covered in bore holes and the detritus from a pig’s latrine. But it works for me as I happily plop a bulb in each hole and then cover it up (did that sound right?!)

If all goes well we will have a good number of blooms to sell come May next year.

Tag Archives: tulips

Tulip Maniac

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Buttercups Runneth Over

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In the Green Mid Winter

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Is This a Pivot I see Before Me?

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Spud You Like

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Light Bulb Moments

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Lockdown: You’ve Got to Roll With It

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Same Old Same Old

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Light Bulb Moments

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