September Plant Pick: Narcissus 'Ice Wings'

Daffodils. Photo by G.A. Cooper, courtesy of the Smithsonian Institution.

By Kate O'Halloran

September. The air takes on a little chill and we get to pull out our favorite sweaters. My favorite sweater is 20 years old, really. I purchased it when I was 26, just divorced, and broke. Too broke to buy an $80 wool sweater. But you see, my puppy had just died, and this sweater, it was purple and mauve with bits of blue, and it had gray suede patches on the elbows and suede around the collar. The buttons looked like Milk Duds with crosses on them. It was an article of quality, something that would last. It was a writer's sweater, but more than that, it was precisely the thing I needed to comfort my soul.

September. I've always felt a little flutter of excitement deep in my belly in September. I am energized by a month which, for many, signals the end. The end of blossoms, the end of leaves. Oh, but their departure, whether glorious or subtle, moves me to the core. It's the change in the air, the softness of the light, a kind of balancing takes place. Balance is very exciting. It happens so rarely.

I was born in September. So was my mother. We shared our love of the month like we shared our love of poetry. For as long as I can remember, my mother would cry over the color of trees, and if the geese were flying over, she would call her children out, barefoot in the grass, to listen to the honking songs, and to watch V's in the sky disappear south.

Every September I planted bulbs with my mom. Our ritual began long ago. After I was grown, she'd phone me up, "When do you want to go pick out bulbs?" She loved Dutch Iris. They made her remember her father, a Dutchman, who died when she was seven. She liked crocus, every color. Tiny wonders, crocus are the first to bloom — little bouquets in the snow. We both shared a fondness for daffodils — Narcissus. My earliest memory is of a Washington County field full of daffodils. I was amazed by the seemingly sudden appearance of hundreds of flowers. Golden in new grass, doubles and singles, frilly and simple. My sisters and I picked fists full. These were the first flowers I ever gave my mother. She liked tulips too, another flower with strong Dutch connections. I was never thrilled with tulips, I called them "obnoxious blobs of color." But that was before I adopted a kitten from the garden center I managed. The kitten napped in all of the bulb boxes. She preferred the tulip display cartons. One day she'd be in the 'Cape Cod' tulip box, the next in 'Georgette,' and so on. When I see tulips now, I remember her. I acquired my distaste for tulips was before I discovered the beautiful ivory white and purple lined and speckled one called 'Shirley.' That was my mom's name.

One September I was out planting bulbs in her garden. She always made a pot of chili when we planted, usually around her birthday, the 27th. And corn bread, she made corn bread, too. So, this one day I was out planting, digging the holes 8 inches deep. Putting in a little bone meal, maybe a little Osmocote, and my mom says to me, out of the blue, "I want you to take these Sapphire earrings and the necklace. They are our birthstones, and you should have them, now."

I reluctantly accepted them and put them in a safe place. I'm back down on my hands and knees twisting Narcissus 'Mount Hood' into the soil when she goes and says the real kicker: "Some day I'll be gone. And you will miss me, Kate. But, you mustn't be sad. When you miss me like that, just think of me like an old, favorite sweater, and I'll be there wrapped all around you."

I didn't look up, I couldn't. When I heard the screen door close, I let big, fat tears drop into the dirt. Later, we sat on the porch, enjoyed our chili and corn bread. We listened to the geese.

Some of my favorite bulbs for mountain gardens are the dwarf varieties of Narcissus jonquilla, such as; Tete a Tete', 'Small Talk', 'Hawera' 'Fairy Chimes', 'Jack Snipe' and 'Ice Wings.' These diminutive flowers don't seem out of place on The Mountain, like the big and bold King Alfreds do. (Even the name doesn't suit us.) The little mini daffs give us all the color and cheer we need, and may naturalize into your garden, so every year you are rewarded with more! Dutch Iris and Crocus corms will also delight you. A wonderful bulb source with lots of pictures is Brent and Becky's Bulbs catalogue (877-661-2852 or www.brentandbeckysbulbs.com) The depth you plant bulbs or corms depends upon size, so refer to the planting instructions for the particular variety. (Those details bore me to write, I'd rather tell gardening stories.)

Here's to the beautiful month, my favorite month... To my birthday, my mother's birthday... To planting tiny treasures... to forgetting about them, and to being surprised when one day they burst through our bleak garden soil, and smile at us.

Get the chili going, it's time to plant.

• Kate O'Halloran is owner of Hallow Scape Design