Green Thumb: Small Wonders

Mini bulbs are proof that good things really do come in petite packages

One fall, I ordered a dozen bulbs of a tulip called tarda, so seduced by the photo in the plant catalogs — jaunty yellow flowers striped with white — that I never even noticed the size. When my tardas arrived, the bulbs were as tiny as pebbles. And when they came up, it was only barely; the starlike blooms topped stems just a few inches tall.

One fall, I ordered a dozen bulbs of a tulip called tarda, so seduced by the photo in the plant catalogs — jaunty yellow flowers striped with white — that I never even noticed the size. When my tardas arrived, the bulbs were as tiny as pebbles. And when they came up, it was only barely; the starlike blooms topped stems just a few inches tall.

But they bloomed so early, when the rest of my garden was still sleeping. Plus, the little stars positively gleamed against the dark earth. And the following spring, their number had doubled — unlike taller tulips, which, for me, peter out after a single season.

I was in love. I scoured my plant catalogs for more varieties of dainty tulips — and discovered an entire world of miniature bulbs.

Charles Fritz, owner of Charles H. Mueller Co. in New Hope, laughs when I tell him this tale of seduction. Fritz shows off 40,000 flower bulbs each spring at a gorgeous old estate on River Road and offers them for sale in the fall. “We have those small bulbs here,” he tells me, “but people don’t get to see them, because they bloom before the garden opens in March.” Word must be getting out somehow; he’s selling more mini bulbs — tulips and crocuses, miniature daffodils and irises, and a host of others, like scilla, snowdrops and grape hyacinths — than ever before.

“They’re more popular each year,” says Jo-Anne van den Berg-Ohms, president of John Scheepers, a national flower bulb and seed company. “Some of them bloom so early that it’s amazing. It’s magical to have these drifts of color blazing on your property in spring.”

One reason for the mini-bulb explosion may be a heightened interest in heirloom flowers. Many minis resemble wild forms of bulbs, from before hybridizers got busy. “Some are very close to the originals,” Fritz says. Avid plantsmen trek to the Pyrenees in northern Spain to glimpse wild daffodils, and to the Caucasus Mountains in northern Turkey in search of wild tulips. You can grow them right in your front yard.

What these miniatures lack in size, they more than make up for in charm. There’s something impossibly winsome about a bright yellow daffodil whose flowers are no bigger than your thumbnail, or a creamy white crocus the size of a dime. “I love the miniature bulbs,” says Katherine Bennett, who designs and maintains gardens on the Main Line. She first fell under their spell when her mother transplanted a handful of Iris reticulata — perfect deep-blue miniatures barely four inches high — here from San Francisco. “They just grew and grew,” Bennett recalls. “I’d divide them and give them away.”

These tiny plants may look frail, but they’re often tougher than hybrids. These are, after all, flowers the way nature designed them over millions of years. And their diminutive size suggests intimacy. “We use them in pockets and niches in our courtyard gardens. I like how they light up a small space,” says Andrew Bunting, curator of the Scott Arboretum of Swarthmore College.

But because most mini bulbs are so inexpensive — “You can get a hundred Scilla siberica for practically nothing,” says Bunting — they’re also perfect for mass plantings. Use them under early-flowering trees, like magnolias and redbuds, for a stunning display. To create a natural-looking mass, Bunting suggests laying a spreading branch on the ground and planting bulbs along its lines. The grape hyacinth is van den Berg-Ohms’s best-selling mini: “It’s a fabulous naturalizer, and that blue is so eye-catching. Use it to underplant other varieties of bulbs, for contrast.”

Mini-bulb culture couldn’t be easier. Plant them about three inches deep; you can use a small dibble to make individual holes, or simply turn over a shallow shovelful of dirt and stick a dozen bulbs in.

There’s no need to fertilize when you plant, but after the first year, use a balanced fertilizer without too much nitrogen, in the late fall or early spring.

Don’t cut down the foliage after your mini bulbs flower; they need it to store energy for next spring. Besides, as Bunting points out, while larger bulbs have ungainly leaves, minis “just fade into the garden when they’re finished blooming.” Don’t deadhead; many mini bulbs spread via seed.

Many small bulbs sparkle in planters and window boxes. Plus, you can force them for midwinter bloom, potting them up in fall and storing them in a cellar or garage at about 40 degrees for 14 weeks. “Keep watering them, but not too much,” Bennett cautions, “and keep mice away.” Bring them into the warmth starting in January.

And don’t leave your mini bulbs in the garden. Tuck a handful of the flowers into an egg cup, or fill some fancy cordial glasses with them. Many mini bulbs retain the sweet scents their hybridized cousins lack.

Of course, you can also sniff them where they grow, outdoors. You’ll have to get down on your knees, but what true gardener was ever averse to that?