Forcing Bulbs

Flowers for your winter windowsill

By Amy McDowell

Snowflakes are flying and the tulips I ordered last spring sit naked in the breezeway, huddled together in their mesh sack. Shame on me. They should’ve been tucked snugly in the ground a month ago. But I know I’m not the only one. During a potting soil expedition to the garden center two days ago, I saw crate upon crate of bulbs—and they weren’t even on clearance sale.

Now, with my huge 3-cubic-foot bag of potting soil, I’ll pot those leftover tulips, chill them and force them to bloom indoors this winter.

Tulips, Daffodils, Hyacinth, Crocus and Muscari are all great for forcing into bloom indoors. Their tender presence will usher spring into your home.

Any pot will do—potting can be as simple as placing one bulb in a disposable plastic party cup with decorative aquarium gravel for support and water to the bulb’s base. I’m not sure how tulips would fare in this environment; they seem to require potting with a little more dignity, but most Daffodils, Hyacinth and Crocus bloom easily when grown in a simple setup. Hyacinth and Crocus vases designed to suspend the bulbs above a water reservoir are another easy solution, and with extra bulbs stored in a paper bag in the fruit drawer of your refrigerator, you can pop a new bulb into the vase each time the bloom fades.

For potting, use quality lightweight potting soil. Press soil into the bottom of the pot, set the bulbs in snugly with the pointy side up and cover with soil. Vigorous bulb roots in containers will heave the soil, so leave the soil an inch below the rim of the pot. Cover the soil with decorative pebbles or moss if you wish. Then place the potted bulbs into a cold storage area. Temperatures between 35 and 48 degrees Fahrenheit are ideal. If you store them in a cold frame, unheated garage, attic, porch or breezeway, you’ll have to insulate them with several heavy blankets or a generous layer of mulch or straw. Allow a 15-week cold period for Tulips, Crocus and Muscari, 14 weeks for Daffodils and 12 weeks for Hyacinth.

Here’s hoping every one of those leftover bulbs at the garden center brings a scent of spring into someone’s home this winter.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

Add a little curb appeal

Forays into the front yard

By Amy McDowell

The 100-foot tall honeylocust in my in-laws’ front yard was the tallest tree in their neighborhood. It had a trunk nearly 4 feet wide. It stood on the corner of their front yard and shaded their two-bedroom cottage for all of the 15 years they had lived there. Leafing out golden yellow in spring, it filled the sky with a light green canopy of dappled shade during the summer and showered the ground in the fall as tiny golden leaflets fluttered down like confetti. A wren house mounted on the side hosted a dainty couple and a new brood of hatchlings each season.

Then an October ice storm eight years ago brought the honeylocust crashing down in a shattered wreck of jagged wood and leaf litter.

Although devastated, my in-laws took little time to grieve. Ever anxious to keep a tidy yard, they sprang into action. They bagged leaves and twigs and piled branches on the curb for city yard waste pickup, hired one company to drop and haul off the decapitated trunk that had been left standing, and hired another company to grind out the stump.

While I was still mourning the loss of the tree, my mother-in-law was brushing the sawdust from her gloves and envisioning something new for her front yard. “I’d like to put in a new bed,” she said. “Something with a lot of color.” And off she went to the garden center. She returned with a tree, a half a dozen shrubs, some annuals, a concrete birdbath and a new wren house.

We hauled in three granite boulders and edged the two lower sides of the bed with stone pavers. My in-laws planted the ‘Autumn Sunset’ maple first, about five feet from where the honeylocust had stood. My mother-in-law hung the birdhouse on a high branch with the hope that her annual visitors would return to the strange new surroundings. Groupings of red pygmy barberries and golden privet fill the bed with color, and clusters of bright red annuals sing along the sidewalk. The wrens did return, and the birdbath drew crowds. My mother-in-law so enjoyed the activity through her kitchen window that she added a bird feeder.

Before their front yard venture, their neighborhood had nothing but garnish-around-the-turkey, home-hugging landscapes and driveway-to-driveway turf. My trendsetter in-laws were the first to break ground with an island bed in the front yard, but by the following spring, many neighbors were following suit and planting new front yard beds.

With this one bed, my in-laws added curb appeal, reduced their mowing and maintenance, attracted wildlife and began a new landscaping movement in their neighborhood. The loss of their immense shade tree ended up turning into something wonderful. “Yeah, it was pretty amazing,” says my mother-in-law.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

Monster Spider in the Praire

Prairie Life

By Amy McDowell

My little brother and I saw the giant sinister spider at the same time, and our voices combined into one terrified, high-pitched squeal. Screaming nonstop, we raced through the prairie up the hill towards home, Mom, and safety. I was perhaps five, so Jeremy would’ve been four, and the tall prairie grasses towered several feet over our heads. The prairie was a labyrinth, but we knew home was up the hill.

We spewed, screaming, from the wild prairie onto our neatly mown lawn. Wide-eyed and breathless, we told Mom about the horrific spider. She was fascinated, and said she’d like to see it. Jeremy and I stared at her with our mouths hanging open. Surely, she was joking. Nope – she wanted to see the grotesque monster spider.

We agreed to go only after Mom promised that she would stay right by us. Reluctantly, we led her back into the prairie, seeking the spider. We looked and looked, but couldn’t find it. Our fears subsided and it became a challenge to find it, to prove to Mom how really scary it was.

Finally, we gave up and went back to the top of the hill. Mom returned to her laundry on the clothesline, and Jeremy and I stood on our tiptoes peering down the hill over the prairie. It was the next season before we had the guts to venture in by ourselves again.

My memories of the fear are distinct, but details of the spider’s appearance are long gone. Today I think the spider we saw was probably an orb weaver. The black and yellow argiope orb weavers have bold markings and perch in the center of their large flat webs. They can grow to be three inches from toe to, well, toe.

These days I see orb weavers in the summertime garden frequently, but my reaction to them has changed. I feel joyous, for I take them as a sign that my garden is environmentally healthy. I know they won’t harm me; they are predators of the insects in my garden. They are doing me a favor.

I have grown to love prairies and the fascinating hum of life within them. When I visit the 5,000-acre prairie at the Neal Smith National Wildlife Refuge near Prairie City, the sound of the wind through the tall grasses soothes me to the soul. It is so peaceful it takes my breath away.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has an associate’s degree in commercial horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County. 

Tropicals and Frost

Tropicals, take cover. F – f – frost is here.

By Amy McDowell

It’s time to blast the bugs off and bring your tender houseplants inside. Use a one-two punch on those insects to make sure you don’t bring them into your home. First, sprinkle systemic insecticide granules on the soil. When you water, the systemic is absorbed by the plant’s roots and circulated throughout the plant, making it toxic to insects. A systemic can last in the plant’s system for three months. Your second punch is to wash the plants thoroughly—tops and bottoms of the leaves and all along the stems—with a firm blast of water from the hose. Soft-bodied insects like aphids and spider mites can’t survive an aggressive washing. Let the plants drip dry outside before taking them in.

No doubt your tropical plants have grown over the season. You may want to prune and reshape them before taking them inside. Many plants suffer shock from being transferred indoors – you will see the telltale leaf drop. Pruning before you relocate them will not only improve their appearance, but may reduce your leaf cleanup later.

Dig ‘em up

Tender bulbs and tubers should be dug up and stored now – things like cannas, dahlias, and gladiolas. After our wonderful regular rains throughout most of the season, you will find those canna tubers underground are now huge. Pry them out of the ground with brute strength and as much gentleness as you can; they will bruise. Cut the stems back to about four-inch stubs, brush the soil off, and store them in an uncovered crate or open box in your basement. The care is the same for dahlias and glads.

Put ‘em in

Spring bulb sales in the U.S. have been declining for several years, and people in the industry believe it may be because spring bulbs don’t provide the instant gratification that other flowers in the garden do.

Here in Iowa, we tuck bulbs into the ground in October and wait for about six months before we see their bright blooms in spring. Who needs instant gratification? Just knowing those spring bulbs are nestled in the ground under the ice and snow gives us something to look forward to all through the blustery winter.

Even just a few dollars spent on a handful of bulbs can provide a cheery bouquet next spring and for many springs to come.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has an associate’s degree in commercial horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.