photo by SVSeekins
For a few years, I thought bluebells were lovely spring flowers & welcomed them into our beds & borders. And no wonder:
Each stem bears a profusion of bellflowers.
The bells dangle & shift delicately in the breeze.
Deer ignore the blossoms.
Bluebells are just so darn pretty.
Great masses of them are even prettier. Have you seen the blue carpets of English woodlands in bloom?
photo by SVSeekins
In the Pacific Northwest, we have similar growing conditions to the UK. Bluebells grow just as well here but aren’t as welcome. (preference is for our native Camas.) It’s becoming more apparent to me how thuggish bluebells can be – overwhelming whatever they’re grown with, especially other bulbs – – like Camas. 😦
It’s a pity something so pretty can be such a bully.
photo by SVSeekins
This spring, my challenge is to clear one bed of as much bluebell as possible. Here’s a “Before the dig” photo:
I do like the lush spring foliage of the bluebells, but can you see any of the perennials? Those plants are hidden from sunshine by masses of bluebell leaf.
photo by SVSeekins
A pitchfork worked well in the moist soil. Great clumps of bluebell came out. Apparently, bluebells don’t leave their survival to seed dispersal alone. Each bulb can produce offsets, forming dense clusters. Clever.
Check out how deep some bulbs were! The bluebells in this photo had only just reached the surface of the soil! That’s a loooong climb through darkness. Imagine how much energy the bulb had stored in order to grow that much stem in search of sunshine!! (If only we could harness that energy!)
photo by SVSeekins
Then… I started noticing how some of the shoots were creating replacement bulbs closer to the surface. Isn’t that clever, too? Another excellent survival strategy.
I wonder how deeply a bulb can be buried before it just cannot reach the soil surface & re-establish itself?
photo by SVSeekins
And THEN… I noticed how some bulbs were sending out ‘runners.’ This is undoubtedly an effective way of increasing its distribution in the bed! These bluebells are determined to take over.
photo by SVSeekins
There were masses of new starts– baby plants that likely grew from the seeds that fell last year. I tried my best to get them all. But just think about it — my digging has likely exposed more of the seed bank to the sunshine. More bluebells are about to sprout.
There’s no way I dug out ALL the bulbs. Many stems broke off, leaving the bulbs deep in the ground. Hopefully, depriving the bulb of this year’s leaf will starve it enough that it won’t grow next year. What are the chances?
photo by SVSeekins
I’ll continue to pull any that I find this spring. For now, the bed is clear enough that the other plants have access to the sunshine & a chance to grow.
I guess we’ll have to wait until next spring to see how well the effort pays off…
photo by SVSeekins
Years ago, I lived beside Beacon Hill Park’s daffodil meadow. It was the first I’d ever seen. Spring magic.
photo by BE Hansen
The happy yellow blooms delight me. Plus, I like the little trumpets that protect the flower’s naughty bits from the early rains.
Clever, eh? 🙂
The deer-resistant Narcissus is easy to grow in Victoria. Many varieties are even cold tolerant to zone 3, surviving -40 degrees C! We don’t get anywhere near that cold here. Actually, as our winters gradually become milder, we’re encountering daffodil woes similar to England’s.
photo by SVSeekins
Many of the daffs that show up in your local grocery store’s flower stand originate in Victoria. Famous for producing the largest crop of daffodils in Canada, Vantreights took an early lead in making the daffodil the Flower of Hope for the Canadian Cancer Society.
photo by SVSeekins
At one point, Vantreights farmed on a leased parcel of land that is now The Horticultural Centre of the Pacific: one of my favourite gardens. Today the HCP enjoys a residual daffodil meadow sloping down to the lake.
photo by SVSeekins
Vantreights farmed in Gordon Head before that land became a residential subdivision. I’ve even heard that our street, on the southern slope of Mt. Tolmie, hosted a farm that grew the bulbs, too.
photo by SVSeekins
There are some tricks to growing a spring-flowering meadow. Although daffodils bloom before the grasses start to grow strongly, their leaves are still busy collecting energy for next year’s flowers when C has the uncontrollable urge to dust off the lawnmower. Zip, there goes the meadow!
photo by SVSeekins
The park’s staff at Beacon Hill let the meadow grow naturally all through May before mowing. By then, the ephemeral bulbs have ripened & receded into dormancy.
Shorter growing spring bulbs, like crocus, stand half a chance in our lawn, but not daffodils. Ditto for snowdrops, tulips & camas. These I’ll leave to naturalize in our beds & borders instead.
Typically I curse steep switchbacks. They are exhausting!
photo by SVSeekins
Now, I have reason to appreciate them. One trail in Strathcona Park is so steep that the inside slope is only an arm’s reach away. I have close-up views of the tiny plants that don’t usually catch my attention. I stop, puffing for a few moments, taking in the forest’s carpet of mysteries.
photo by SVSeekins
At first, the evergreen plant, Prince’s pine, escapes my notice.
But then, my eyes spy the wildflower buds – such a delicate pink!
Further along the path, I find specimens in full bloom. And some already setting seed — in early June. 🙂
photo by SVSeekins
The tiny, waxy-looking blossoms are such a contrast to the deep woodland duff of the understory. Enchanting. (There must be faeries nearby.)
I delight in the flowers while mourning that Chimaphila umbellata is probably not suited to our own garden. (Yes, our garden is well-drained, but it’s shaded by Garry oak– not conifers.)
Back at the campsite, the mini-shrub is confirmed by Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast (my wild plant Bible). Woo Hoo — one more native plant in my repertoire.
photo by SVSeekins
It’s not until a wintery February morning, while attending Seedy Saturday that I meet Andy McKinnon, co-author of my treasured plant ID book. He teaches me this science word for today.
Mixotrophic.
Prince’s pine is mixotrophic. It has a friendly relationship with the fungus in the ground.
photo by SVSeekins
Like many plants, through photosynthesis, Prince’s pine produces sugars (its food). It shares those sugars with fungi. The fungi, in return, offer up access to nutrients from the soil.
Friendly, eh?
But wait – there’s more…
Prince’s pine & this fungi take their relationship a step further.
photo by SVSeekins
The fungi in the soil also connect to another plant (other than the Prince’s pine). Through this threesome, the Prince’s pine can get sugars from this other plant. Neighbours helping neighbours in times of need…. all through a fungi trade route.
(That’s Mixotrophic)