Earliest April coaxes out the white, yellow and purple of tulip time’s advance color-bearer – the species tulip Tulipa biflora – with the whole resplendent army of species tulips following close behind. For these native or wild tulips come early and stay late – as we like all our favorite visitors to do. And these are very special favorites for many reasons.
In addition to their obvious charm of early bloom, timed to complement the starry chionodoxa, trim blue muscari and fluffy white foam flower, species tulips offer infinite variety in size, color and shape. Tulipa biflora and T. fosteriana are respectively the smallest and largest of all tulips. Colors range from white and cream T. tarda to yellow and lilac T. pulchella, pink-margined T. marjoletti yellow and green inside, orange T. orphanidea, dazzling vermillion T. eichleri, and mauve to purple T. violacea.
Nature’s Own Originals
Then, too, since these are all nature’s own originals, there’s a collector’s pride in owning them. And a few species tulips introduced into the sunny border or rock garden will surely make an avid collector of any gardener. Once you’ve been delighted by T. turkestanica’s white and gold star-flowers, you’ll have an irresistible urge to preview them the next year with the smaller, earlier stars of T. biflora and to continue the stellar parade on into the middle of April with the larger and even more charming and easily grown T. tarda.
Perhaps the species introduced has been red and white T. clusiana, called candy, radish or lady tulip according to one’s personal fancy. Having enjoyed this confection, who could resist adding a clump of the similar, if daintier, T. stellata to the garden showcase?
Then it’s always fun to be the first in the neighborhood to grow an unusual flower. “Just smell this lovely yellow tulip! Isn’t it fragrant? The name? Why it’s T. australis, which grows wild in Sicily and is also to be found on the Atlas Mountains.” It’s equal fun to point out T. gesneriana, from which come all Breeder, Cottage and Darwin tulips. I remember it growing in my mother’s garden for 20 years.
It’s too bad, of course, that more people don’t plant and enjoy these uniquely beautiful tulips, but until they do, we can’t deny the sly, eye-twinkling satisfaction of having something lovely not yet discovered by our friendly rivals. The astonishment on visitors’ faces when they behold the fantastically-twisted red and yellow petals of T. acuminata delights us quite as much as the flower itself. And when it is cut and brought indoors, where it opens and closes unpredictably into varying shapes, nonbotanically-minded friends can’t guess what it is.
Constant Opening And Closing A Most Engaging Habit Of Tulips
This constant opening and closing is to us one of the most engaging habits of tulips. Some people don’t agree – particularly those making show arrangements for which top buds must not open or wide base flowers close before the judges arrive!
Although a characteristic of all tulips, this trait is found to the greatest degree among the species, where sheer whimsy often seems the rule! While most tulips open wide only in the heat of the sun, sweet-scented, greenish T. primulina remains indifferently closed until after noon and stubbornly wide-eyed when good little tulips are asleep. Most star-flowers close immediately when picked and resentfully refuse to reopen more than half way. T. clusiana, however, is flattered to be brought indoors, where the pointed red buds slowly unfurl to a lovely red and white striped cup.
Our cutting favorite is T. sylvestris (T. florentina odorata). The wonderful yellow glows under the lamplight, its perfume of sweet violets steals about the room, and one can almost see it breathe. As its nodding head turns slowly on a graceful stem, the petals open and close in sensitive response to unheard commands. Boasting unusually long stems and large blooms, T. sylvestris makes a pretty partner for pansies, primroses, bleedingheart and forget-me-nots in old-fashioned bouquets.
Tulip Planting Time
Planting time for tulips is from November on. T. sprengeri is an exception. The last tulip to flower (often in June), this red and buff species perversely demands to be planted first – as soon as bulbs arrive.
Most species tulips demand a sunny bed with well-drained gritty soil containing lime. We plant our bulbs 6 to 8 inches deep – or about three times their diameter and then some. A bit of compost, mixed with a handful of bonemeal and half as much 5-10-10, goes in the hole first, then soil and the bulb. Those with fur-lined jackets like to be tucked into a pocket of sand. Golden, starry chrysantha is one of these and is worth the extra trouble.
Once bulbs are established, we fertilize them (after blooming) about every three years with two parts honemeal to one part 5-10-10.
Agreeable T. kaufmanniana (water-lily tulip) thrives even under ordinary garden conditions, while T. sylvestris will grow in open woodlands or in fine grasslands. The latter also stays contentedly in the border even when weeds or leafy plants grow over it. This is something others resent – as we learned when T. fosteriana and T. praestans practically disappeared from our garden and had to be replaced. For who could do without little praestans, whose two or three orange-red flowers on tallish stems create their own perfect flower arrangement? For the large magnificent vermilion fosteriana with its striking black and yellow eye? We must agree with Dr. Asa Gray (“New Manual of Botany”) that on a dark, wet day a clump of these tulips actually looks like a patch of brilliant sunshine.
The enormous red species are undoubtedly the most popular, especially with men. Reginald Farrer described T. praecox wonderfully: “The outsides of the flower are blurred and dead and dull . . . like the underside of a butterfly’s wing, in no way preparing one for the satiny fury of pure scarlet that presentely unfolds, staring out into the world with a menacing pupil of blackness.” Much the same could be said of the fosteriana varieties RED EMPEROR, largest of all tulips, and shorter-stemmed But among the reds, our heart belong’s to dainty T. linifolia. Although small, its brilliance is jewel-like rather than overpowering. Its purple center and anthers, with only the yellow pinwheel of the stigma for accent, please us more than the bolder patterns.
A yellow charmer is T. batalini, thought by some to be a color form of T. linifolia. The same dwarf size and shape, with the same silvery blue-green leaves, it is a soft primrose. Tulips batalini BRONZE CHARM is larger, with wider and even more silvery leaves. In our garden it has a bronze center and rosy-flushed outer segments, but we hear it is sometimes flushed with salmon or bronze.
The buds of all three are intriguing. From a rather flat base, four sides furl to a straight, tight point. T. linifolia looks like a strawberry stuck on a long stem! BRONZE CHARM has a broader base and so makes a fatter package, promising a special surprise..
Tulipa batalini forms new bulbs at the end of vertical stolons, and Gray suggests planting it in deep seed pans if you wish to increase your stock. This controls stoloniferous growth and simplifies collecting the bulbs. Tulipa kaufmanniana has the same habit. dropping the new bulbs a good 6 inches below the parent plant. When trying to more the bulbs if they seem to have disappeared, keep on digging or next year they will pop up unexpectedly in the middle of your new planting.
From this cream, gold and carmine water-lily tulip have come many exciting hybrids in beautiful color combinations. GAIETY is a yellow-centered white -with red and yellow outer segments. The taller MAGNIFICENT is white and yellow with red markings, SCARLET ELEGANCE quite lives up to its name, as does AUREA, a rich gold with red markings inside and out. Leaves are broad anti curved, slightly furry and striped with purple when young. They make a perfect setting for the low but large and glowing cup.
There are many other kaufmanniana varieties to try some day, but being collectors and partial to originals, we first must get those other species we’ve heard about hut never seen: T. greigi, not because we need another large scarlet hut because its pale foliage “splashed and streaked with reddish brown” sounds so interesting. Small tri-flowered T. hageri, to see if it is really copper-colored and to make up our own minds about its disputed attractions. Mrs. Louise Beebe Wilder says. “One would by no means go off one’s head about its charms.” Others call it royal! Mauve, chalice-shaped T. saxatilis, because some top growers say they can’t get it to bloom. a challenge no gardener can ignore! Gray had the same experience with it but after three years says. “I happened to he at J. Henry Correvon’s Nursery in Geneva. where they were flowering as freely as crocuses and I asked him his secret. He replied. ‘A very simple secretÑpatience!’ I now have a larze patch in my rock garden covered with bloom every spring.” Well plant this fall and report in four years!
Then we must have vermilion T. wilsoniana just so we can say. “That tulip was collected in Transcaspia. What, you don’t know where Tianscaspia is? -Why. just southwest of Asterahad!” A bonus attraction indeed is the fact that these flowers all come from far-off romantic-sounding places.
As Mrs. Wilder aptly puts it. “The wild species open up to its a whole world of venture and adventure. calling its from the bealerf Track to little winding paths into the unknown.” Good hunting!
by M Roche – 61217
