Suddenly all Canberra is going daffodilly, growing them, admiring them, giving bunches to friends. I've even had a bloke ask me how he can wear a daffodil on his lapel without getting his jacket covered in sticky sap. Answer: buy a small, extremely expensive silver filigree button hole vase, or wrap the end of the daffodil stem in alfoil and use a small safety pin.
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Daffodils mean spring, except many varieties bloom in winter, and in our tough climate the winter ones are often the longest lasting, both as flowers and bulbs. Daffodil bulbs theoretically double each year i.e. one bulb will produce at least one more bulb next year.
This means that a single bulb at compound interest will give you "lots" in a few years' time - assuming your garden is an excellent spot for daffodils to thrive. If not, you may end up with no daffodils. Just like the stock market, no garden investment is guaranteed.
Daffodils need cold winters if they are to bloom, and also don't do well with hot dry summers. While we can provide the cold winters, we do also have those summers like the backblocks of hades.
This means that only "summer heat tolerant" daffs survive. Otherwise they'll not only fail to bloom, but the bulbs may rot in hot damp soil, or be eaten by nematodes.
Mostly, in our climate, you need to experiment to see which ones thrive in your garden. The hardiest seem to be the Earlicheer and Paperwhite jonquils, and pure yellow daffs, including the luxurious double daffodils which can be so heavy their stem snaps, especially if the flowers are wet and so heavier than usual. I try to pick our doubles just before they open, as they have a better survival rate in a vase.
Winter blooming daffs and jonquils also seem more heat tolerant, though they are still for cold, cool and temperate areas only. Our gorgeous pink daffs thrived for three years then vanished. So did the red rimmed ones.
If you want to keep your daffodil bulbs cool enough to survive summer, plant them under deciduous trees if possible, and never by a hot concrete or brick walls or even the edge of a garden where they'll get extra hot in summer. Potted daffs are out too, unless you dig up the bulbs each year once the leaves have died down and store them in a cool dry place, then chill in the fridge for a few weeks before planting out again in February.
Never mow your daffs till their leaves die down. If you hate an untidy lawn and don't want garden beds with dying off daffodil leaves, grow something else.
Sadly I may have lost about half our daffs last year. A small excavation among the daffodils meant that each one had to be carefully dug up so as not to disturb the roots, then placed in a large hole and watered in. (Planting dormant daffodil bulbs is far easier - dig a hole twice as wide and long as the bulb, insert bulb, pat back soil, and water.)
But this was a labour of love, as those daffs have lasted for decades and are truly, beautifully suited to our garden's climate. Till the wombats dug them up, every single one of them, just in case they might be carrots.
Wombats don't eat daffodils. Please don't eat them either - the sap can be toxic. I was once faced with a glorious birthday cake for the 100 guests who'd come to celebrate a friend's major birthday. It was decorated divinely with whipped cream topped with fresh daffodils.
What is the etiquette here? Do you yell "Poison! Poison! Do not eat" before or after the candles are blown out? Or just be quiet.
In the end I said nothing, hoping that either the sap hadn't had time to seep into the cream, or, as it happened, the health conscious guests ate the cake but not the cream. As far as I know there were no ill effects. Please never eat a daffodil, or serve one to your guests. But do plant them, even if it's on public land like the footpath. You don't need to own the daffs to love them.
This week I am:
- Trying to lure the wombats away from the transplanted daffodils with bribes of carrots. The wombats have probably already worked out that if they dig up the daffodils each night they'll get more carrots.
- Wondering when Possum X will discover we have two parsley patches, not the single one he has been eating
- Still waiting for the first asparagus
- Still waiting for it to rain. (We may not get that first asparagus until it rains)
- Wondering why this year, of all years, the daphne bushes are so covered in blossom you can hardly see the leaves. No water. Freezing nights. Maybe daphne bushes are masochists.
- Gazing at the bare flower beds by the front gate and longing to plant them with annuals. Unless it rains the annuals will either die, or be eaten by hungry wallabies. But bare soil just cries out 'plant me' to any gardener.