I love seeing leaves turn bright colors and magazines
promote colorful pages full of Halloween costumes, décor, and party ideas. Shopping
aisles full of colorful candy tempt my eye. Making this season even better,
garden centers display net sacks filled with next spring’s tulips and daffodils.
An Orscheln’s exhibit showcased 30 bulb packages, so after stocking up on October
31 goodies, I tossed one each of daffodils and tulips into my cart. I’ll tuck
them into a fall garden bed and watch them bloom come May.
I’ve always loved growing vegetables and flowers. It wasn’t
until I married that I planted rows of blossoms that start from a bulb. The
first year was disappointing but those following provided multiplying reasons
to love these perennials. As time passes, those bulbs double, quadruple,
well—you get the picture. With patience, a skimpy beginning evolves into a
blast of brilliant color waving in spring breezes. This motivates me to plant
season after season.
Because marketers promote both Halloween candy and flower
bulbs that must be planted before mid-November, the association tempts me to
hand out flower bulbs to trick or treaters along with instructions to start
their flower bed. Before long, good sense reigns and I instead stock up on
sweets for costumed guests. However, I should mention that four-legged trick or
treaters of the squirrel and deer variety do a happy dance when I throw a sack
or two of bulbs into my cart.
Yes, these furry neighbors look forward to this time of year
too. I swear squirrels hiding in trees a block away have spotting scopes they
use to spy on where I tuck those tender orbs. Within a day or two, I find a
couple of fresh plantings dug out and devoured. Once nothing remained but loose
dirt—the bulbs vanished like the ghosties who wandered up our sidewalk with
bags in hand.
Deer do their damage later when tender leaves and delicate
blossoms first emerge. While squirrels don’t discriminate between daffodil and
tulip, mature deer have a more selective palate. I suspect yearlings don’t know
daffodils disagree with their stomachs and sample a few until they learn better.
Older ones leave turn their noses up. Tulips are another matter. Based on the
number these gluttons eat, white tails and muleys consider them delicacies.
When we lived by Big Creek, I counted myself lucky if half
my tulips made it to full bloom. I rarely worried about protecting them from the
fingers of curious toddlers because deer beat our daughters to them every
spring. Odds for a successful full flowering haven’t improved much even though
I now live in town and our girls are grown. Apparently, hooved gourmands can’t
resist wandering through swing set-filled neighborhoods. They’ve discovered
residents landscape with tasty treats that turn their junket into a candy store
visit.
Over time, my brain has melded Halloween and spring bulb
planting into a combined experience. Be careful when you check your trick or
treat bag. I may cave and pass out next
season’s blooms instead of the traditional Hershey bar or Kit Kat.
