Bloom Where You Are Planted, Dang It!

Ahhh, October!

Falling leaves, corn mazes, and carved pumpkins…

This time of year it seems that I am always waiting for two magical events to line up on the same weekend: for the ground to have cooled enough from summer’s warmth so I can plant tulip and daffodil bulbs, and for the weather to be nice enough that I still want to. It also wouldn’t hurt if those two magical events would also coincide with an early Seahawk’s game---so I can get outside at the peak of the day without missing a single down---and a Seahawk victory, so I’ll be in a good mood while I’m digging and not muttering unkind things about the defense under my breath.

Tulips by the bunch.
By the bulb? Not so much.

So far, I have managed to avoid my usual autumnal pitfall of purchasing far too many tulips. When I am in the garden store or flipping through bulb catalogs, I easily forget how much the deer and elk love nipping the heads off of my just-about-to-bloom tulips---they don’t actually EAT them, they just BITE them---and I get carried away thinking about all the possible color combinations. Alas, I only have secured planting locations for a few tulips.

Daffodils are different. Deer and elk don’t seem to like daffodils and will usually leave them alone, so I feel free to plant them by the bucket full. I have had, on occasion, a random four-footed pest that must have been absent the day they covered Daffodil Avoidance in Elk Class, and would eat them anyway, but they are usually a safe bet.

Moles seem to cause my daffodils the most trouble. In search of delicious worms, the moles undermine my daffodils, leaving the poor roots suspended in mid-air above the tunnel and making them vulnerable to the nibbling’s of mice and—I suspect—even chipmunks.

Occasionally some combination of pests, working in tandem, will result in the odd daffodil  or other bulb sudden blooming in a random location. An early spring walk thru the yard will show stray crocuses popping up all over my lawn. It’s an interesting look, but not one of intention.

Not MY intention anyway, I can’t speak for the chipmunks.