The brown boxes have been stacking up by the back door since the beginning of September, but I am finally thinking about planting the bulbs inside. I tend to plant them late; I’ve happily tripped over those boxes until January in the past – the flowers still come – because we live in London, where it is often warm until the year wanes, and there is always something else to do.
However, if you’re feeling keen, you can start to plant them now. A savvy bulb order will include ones that flower as early as February and March (earlier daffs, crocus, Iris reticulata) all the way through to late May (alliums and nectaroscordum). These can be planted in the same bed to usher a wave of flowers all the way through from the dregs of winter to the first barbecues of summer. In container gardens, this is where something called the bulb lasagne can be attempted.
I played around with bulb lasagnes a lot when I exclusively gardened in containers – on balconies and in window boxes. It’s called a lasagne because, like the dish, you layer up bulbs to the hopefully delicious effect of maximising a floral display for weeks on end. I’m not going to lie: their success was hit-and-miss, but the principles are useful for making the most of small planting spaces.
Purists will want to get the largest, deepest container they can: a wide terracotta bowl-shaped planter, for instance, or a reclaimed tin bath, and probably a tape measure.
As a general rule, bulbs need to be planted at a depth that is three times their height, eg: if you have a bulb that is 2cm tall, you plant it 6cm deep. A good bulb lasagne will therefore include bulbs of different sizes, planted in well-spaced layers. It helps if they flower at different times, too. A classic combination would be to plant later-season tulips or alliums at the bottom of the container, then narcissus or daffodils, followed by crocus or Iris reticulata (both small and early) on the top layer.
Flirt outside these boundaries as far as you feel comfortable – maybe you want to scatter a few muscari or frittilaria into the mix. It’s worth noting that anything allium or daffodil-scented will deter squirrels.
Whatever you choose, don’t be afraid to pack them in: there are few horticultural sights more tragic than a great big pot with a handful of flowers in. Once you’ve reached the top, cover the whole thing with compost and grit (looks tidy, deters squirrels and molluscs), and await the show.
As with making an edible lasagne, it can take a bit of trial and error to get right: foliage will pop up before the flowers do, too, so don’t expect flowers in isolation. Err on the safe side and keep things simple: cohesive colours across the selection will result in beauty regardless of what blooms when.
