Since I was a child the lure of the flower-bulb has had me in its thrall. I blame my great-aunt for this fascination. It was she who brought me my own first bulbs. Daffodils.
I had a little piece of the back garden I’d claimed as mine, and where I faithfully planted the little flowering plants I’d ‘rescued’ from the veld when out walking or riding. (Dirty pockets was a ‘discussion’ quite often).
Those poor little plants seldom survived, after all yanking plants out of the ground is not generally the way to ensure their survival. However the daffodils were another matter. Most of them grew, and some of them flowered. I was hooked.
I love the big red amaryllis, they are lush and flamboyant. I love to give them as presents, I love to have them flowering on my windowsill. I have a thing for only red flowers on my dining room sill, and the variety I get is always interesting.
This year with all of the changes in the garden I also planted a Maltese Cross lily, it took just 2 weeks from planting to flowering. It must have been so over-ready to go.
On the other side of the house, at the entrance which is all white and blue (purple counts as blue – OK?) I planted Spider Lilies. I had them some years ago, but they got eaten by something when I was travelling. Now I’m around at home, hopefully I’ll be able to prevent that. All they have at present is nice fat long leaves, healthy looking too. Maybe in time for Christmas?