It’s a little bit gloomy today, and my crocuses are nearly over, so I’m a little bit gloomy too. I love crocuses – well, I love many things, but crocuses are so friendly and unpretentious. And beautiful; let’s not forget beautiful.
I was sensible enough not to do much my first year here, and was rewarded by drifts of crocuses suddenly appearing in the bottom garden, around the base of the large cherry tree.
In some lights they are almost blue:
Then the sun comes out and they’re suddenly purple:
And they have spread wildly, into neighbouring areas of lawn and across a path into the hydrangea bed. When the primroses come out, they work well together. They light up the area under the newly pruned, ancient and enormous hydrangea, and glow in the patches of sunshine. Soon this area will be completely overshadowed, but for the moment it’s a messy bed, with some positive features (that would be crocuses and primroses, and not the hydrangea – it’s on borrowed time):
Up in the top garden, they keep company with the snowdrops. I planted a few beneath the apple trees, and they have naturalised well.
When you see them close up and personal, even these comparatively ordinary little flowers are stunning (well, I think so anyway – and you can quite understand why some botanists think they may have come to Britain with monastic herb gardens, as some sort of substitute for saffron crocuses).
Every so often, a few unexpected crocuses flower. I’ve got a small clump of yellow ones which are quite impossible to photograph in sunshine – they’re incredibly bright. There are a couple of white ones with yellow centres that appear some years, but not this one. There are some macho purple brutes that are never quite as good as they threaten to be, and have a tendency to flop over at the first breath of wind (not so good for me, then).
And then there’s this gem, which deserves a bigger picture:
I need more! More!