Reaching new heights in the garden
When spring arrived early this month, or was it summer, the brave ones poked their heads up. Snow drops first, then crocuses followed by hellebores and even the odd daffodil. There was much bragging online about whose were first, even though the gardener has little input. It really depends on where in the region your garden is. I always hear from friends in Cambridge to the south where spring flowers sprout a week or two ahead of anything in my Waterloo garden.
It’s not only that I’m at a slightly more northern latitude, but I must also take altitude into account; at least, that’s my excuse. My place is almost a hundred metres higher than downtown Cambridge. But then downtown of any city is a heat sink, resulting in Florida-like microclimates. I’m hardly trying to grow plants up along the treeline, but I’m sure the higher elevation must contribute to the time lag when my early season flowers bloom. Meanwhile, gardeners in Mount Forest are asking “What’s he complaining about,” while others in Dundas are smiling. My crocuses did finally appear, then a return to wintery weather slowed things down.
Crocuses (or croci) shoot out of the ground like sleek, mini space rockets, then when the sun comes out, they open wide to offer bees a nectar and pollen buffet, one of the earliest sources of food for them.
Crocuses are in the iris family and there are about 100 species found in a band that stretches from Spain to China, but the Balkan Peninsula has the most species: 31 at the last count. I wonder if there’s an official crocus counter? Thanks to the Romans, Crocus sativus, the fall blooming species, made it to Britain. Saffron, one of the world’s most expensive spices, is derived from the stigma of this plant, but the fashionable Romans used it to dye cloth. Then perambulating flower loving crusaders spread the crocus elsewhere throughout western Europe, where it became a valued ornamental plant. Crocus can thrive in a wide range of habitats, from woodlands to deserts, wherever there are cold winters and warm summers, and at subalpine altitudes (see, Cambridge, they like my garden).
There are so many varieties, but I have my favourite, Crocus olivieri, “orange monarch.” It blooms early in the rock garden and unlike the more familiar yellow, purple, and white ones, this one has marmalade orange petals with dark brown, vertical streaks on the three outer petals. When all the petals are fully open, they reveal a brilliant yellow interior that beckons bees.
We love them when they appear in spring but crocuses must be planted in fall as they need a cold dormant period. They grow from a small bulb, technically a corm. Most of the corms sold in fall are hybrids from crossbreeding of selected species. Planting in a large group in a lawn is a popular way to display them. The idea is to scatter the corms, then plant them where they land for a natural look, but they could be planted in a pattern, such as a heart shape where they flower on a partner’s springtime birthday. Even words could be spelled out, but if any of the corms fail to flower the words might appear misspelled or autocorrected by a rogue dandelion.
We’ve passed the spring equinox now and more life will be making an appearance. After a warm winter that will have disrupted the growth of plants, it looks like we’re in for a warmer spring. Environment Canada is forecasting a 70 per cent probability temperatures in southern Ontario will be warmer than average. That means tulips won’t last long further south.