Bright bulbs: Plant now for spring

Bulbs are reliable little packages that will make your spring. == Donald/Flickr

All of us find reasons to put off until tomorrow what can be done today - it's human nature.

Still, let me give you a little nudge about fall bulb planting. It's not too late to guarantee yourself an extravagant show next spring. But sand is running out of the hourglass, and it's definitely time to get your bulb order in hand, so stop ditzing around.

There are few sure things in life, but odds are good that a bulb planted in fall will yield a flower next spring. Bulbs are ideal for the new gardener looking for positive reinforcement, and so varied that even the most discriminating connoisseur can find something strange, new and wonderful to plant. But there are a couple of tricks to keep in mind.

First, wait until nights are in the 40s for at least two weeks before setting bulbs in - this keeps them from getting confused by warm temperatures and producing top growth out of season, depleting reserves they'll need next spring. Second, bulbs don't like air around their roots, so dig a deep enough hole, press them firmly into the loose soil, and water while - as well as after - you plant.

Bone meal, which encourages root growth, is often recommended as a soil supplement at planting time, but this pungent fertilizer is attractive to squirrels and other critters, who will dig up your bulbs, even the inedible ones, to get at it. If you can't find steamed bone meal, which is less smelly, you can dust your finished plantings with a bulb fertilizer like Bulb Tone or Bulb Booster and then water it in well.

Most bulbs don't benefit from fertilization except in the fall or earliest spring, when root growth occurs, and most don't like foliar feeding, so forget spraying leaves with liquid growth enhancers. Bulbs produce their own food stores through photosynthesis, which is why you must leave the foliage untouched until it dies off on its own, probably in early June.

Unless you have an extremely formal garden, don't plant bulbs in straight rows like little soldiers; they look better in a more natural arrangement. One tried-and-true way to achieve this unstudied effect is to toss a handful of bulbs on the ground and plant them where they fall.

Little early-blooming bulbous irises are charming. — Finn Frode/Flickr

Daffodils are glorious, and, thankfully, have toxins in bulb, leaf and stem that make them unpalatable to critters. The century-old 'King Alfred' is still popular, but has been surpassed by improved, modern varieties like 'Golden Harvest,' 'Yellow Sun' and 'Dutch Master.' By all means look into miniature dafs, sweet little things with less foliage to annoy you on its way to an unattractive death.

Tulips are another best seller, but be warned: They are snack food to mice and voles. Plant them in pots plunged in the soil, or in "nests" of chicken wire to foil the critters. Another strategy is to layer your planting with sharp-edged crushed oyster shell. Bear in mind, too, that the lily-flowered tulips are less likely to get eaten.

Hybrid tulips don't return and bloom reliably year after year, although deeper planting is said to prolong their vitality. Look into the smaller species tulips - the Fosteriana, Gregii and Kaufmanniana types, for instance - which are true perennials that bloom earlier in the year and often have variegated foliage.

Big, fat Dutch hyacinths are another bulb that usually has but one season of glory; I think they're better for indoor forcing. For outdoor planting, use the looser and less formal wood hyacinth, Scilla hispanica, instead. This is an iron-clad performer, doing well even in the dry shade under evergreens.

Some of the so-called "minor bulbs" are terrific. I can't keep crocuses in the ground due to critter predation, but have learned to love the early-blooming, bright-blue Siberian squill, Scilla sibericus, and grape hyacinth, Muscari armeniacum; the pink, white or blue daisy-shaped flower of petite wood anemones, Anemone blanda; and the nodding bells of checkered lily, Fritillaria meleagris, which defies conventional bulb wisdom by thriving in moist soils.

This fall I'm experimenting with Pushkinia scilloides, a little 5-inch fellow with clusters of white flowers striped in pale blue, and some dwarf early iris, Iris histrioides, with the appealing variety name of 'George.' The latter is described as "a deep, rich plum-purple of a mouth-watering shade" and I'm rooting, as usual, for a big payoff.

C'mon George - show me something. I’m counting on you.