Singing the Blues

They're called minor bulbs, the tiny flowers we scatter about in an effort to save our sanity after a long winter. Bulbs like the scilla pictured, snowdrops, crocus, muscari, anemone, and iris are tiny and fleeting. In my town, scilla carpets the lawns in the historic district, turning them into a sea of blue. Mine have decided that the flower beds are far easier to colonize. They brighten the ground layer for a few weeks and provide welcome treats for the hungover bees crawling out into the pale March sun.

We seek out the color blue in the landscape. Bluestone, blue spruce, blue glazed containers, bluebells, blue hosta, and more are all prized. Perhaps because a blue sky is a clear sign that all is well, the storms have passed? The implied distance of an open sky brightens our mood and makes us feel safe? At any rate, we do know that blue foliage gives us a sense of distance, which is why my Blue Cloak concolor fir is planted on the lot line. It definitely softens the view of my neighbors lawn.

The earth is warming and tantalizing signs of spring are popping up everywhere. This scilla just emerged and soon will turn its pretty blue flowers to the heat of the sun. What have you planted to sing the blues?

Crocus: Pearls of Spring

Each day I walk the property, carefully noting signs of spring.  Sometimes the changes are tiny and sometimes flowers appear out of nowhere.  This year the crocus did the magic appearing act.  My very early ones, Blue Pearl and Cream Beauty are fading fast, but of course, I have pictures.  These little guys are growing in the lawn where there used to be a purple plum tree.  

Isn't Blue Pearl cute?

And a dash of Cream Beauty

My next crocus to appear on the scene are larger and I'm afraid I don't know the cultivar.  I thought I kept the bag, but no.  So, they are mystery crocus with singularly glowing stigmas.

We also have planted a smattering of crocus at work and so here's some lovely white ones to round out the crocus gallery.

Small, but lovely!



Crocus are native to Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia, and all the way to China.  We get saffron from the stigmas of the autumn blooming Crocus sativus, which doesn't really grow here.  Think about how many strands of dried stigmas make an ounce of saffron and you understand why it is one of the most expensive spices in the world.  Crocus has been cultivated as a flower in Europe since the 1560s and European settlers brought them along to the U.S.  For me, I'm a huge fan of anything that blooms early and I try to plant a handful of crocus each year.  I purposely forget where I planted them.  I like to be surprised.