Gems spring from the bare root of nothing

The weekend when the clocks go forward is always a time for rejoicing.

Soon we’ll be able to steal an hour in the garden in the evening before the light fades and, even if the weather does turn nasty again, the sun will soon have recovered enough strength to see off a cold snap.

Slightly milder days will give me the chance to plant some of the bare root perennials that have been sitting in a large box in the garage while I’ve waited for the ground to thaw out.

If you haven’t tried growing plants that have been lifted and dried off while dormant, I would recommend giving it a go. Bare root shrubs, trees and perennials can be less than half the price of those sold in pots, and there are no plastic containers to be disposed of at the end.

Be aware, though, that bare root perennials don’t look very promising. In fact, most of them resemble nothing more than a collection of brittle twigs and it is hard to imagine that they will ever amount to anything.

But don’t be fooled. From such unpromising beginnings, glorious things like astrantias, peonies and red-hot pokers will soon grow.

In order to prepare the ground for planting, I spread generous quantities of manure and add regular handfuls of general fertiliser.

I’m planning to give every root a dusting of mycorrhizal fungi, which should help the roots to do their job. Then all I’ll have to do is wait for the first shoots to appear through the soil and be ready to remove any weeds that pop up alongside them.

I’ll be happy if, in their first year, my dozens of bare root perennials produce some fresh leaves and a sprinkling of flowers, but in subsequent years they should put on a

glorious show, helped along by the azaleas that share this part of the garden.

I’ve got a bit of a thing about deciduous azaleas. Their orange, apricot and bright yellow flowers should be hard to place, but somehow they seem to fit in any setting and their scent is one of the sweetest of all garden perfumes. Azalea foliage takes on vivid autumn colours and the bare branches are never unsightly in winter.

I’ve got lots of them in the garden, but as we only arrived here in September I’ve yet to see them in flower and I can’t wait for them to perform.

But in the meantime I’m still waiting for the crocuses beneath the magnolia tree to open. These had been so late to appear that, for a while, I thought they had been eaten by the pheasants. Now, though, the first shoots are through the soil and the sunshine has brought them on rapidly, so it shouldn’t be long until they start putting on a show.

And I think I’ve found a second magnolia. It’s been there all the time, nestled in the high laurel hedge that sits opposite the back door, but I only spotted it once its buds began to show.