130 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



October 1910 



How My Bulb-Cellar Succeeded 



GOODNESS, Miss Janet!" I said, "how can 

 you possibly afford to have the house full of 

 spring flowers in February? These tulips and 

 daffodils must have cost a lot!" I was holding in 

 my hand a slender package of daffodils that had 

 cost me sixty cents at the florist's, so I knew. Miss 

 Janet's room was full of flowers, and she smiled 

 and looked about it as she said: 



"Why, I forced them myself." 



"But you haven't a hothouse," I objected. 



"You don't want a hothouse to force spring 

 bulbs," returned Miss Janet. "You want a cool 

 house, and you don't need sun, either." 



Then she told me how she did it. That was two 

 years ago. My last year's experience in forcing 

 spring bulbs was very happy, and I am telling about 

 it this fall because if any one wants daffodils or 

 snowdrops or tulips or narcissi in the extremely 

 early spring, the autumn is the time to prepare 

 for them. 



Miss Janet had told me how to pot the bulbs, 

 and that she simply set the bulbs in the cellar 

 through the months from October to January, while 

 they were making their roots and getting ready 

 for the spurt into leaves and flowers in the spring. 

 She did not tell me that she had two cellars and that 

 she set the potted bulbs in the one where the fur- 

 nace was not. Unfortunately, our furnace is in the 

 cellar, which is not divided off, and, in consequence 

 the temperature varies, it being, as a rule, too hot. 

 The bulbs that spring failed. Some dried out and 

 never sprouted at all, while those that did come up 

 sprouted before they were brought out, and the best 

 had only straggly growth with one or two weak 

 flowers. 



What I needed then was some place for the pots 

 to stand from October to January, while they are 

 making strong root growth, and where the conditions 

 of a regular florist's bulb cellar can be duplicated 

 and an even temperature of proper coolness be 

 kept for the potted bulbs during their rooting 

 period. 



My friend described her outdoor bulb-cellar to 

 me, and I made one last fall. I think, as a gen- 

 eral thing, it is even more satisfactory than an indoor 

 cellar, since it is possible to keep all the conditions 

 nearer normal out-of-doors than in any house. 



I got a box at the grocery store, about four by 

 five feet square and three feet deep. I knocked 

 off the bottom, picked out a sheltered place at one 

 side of the tool-house and started to sink the box 

 in the ground. It took me all day making the 

 hole, because I did the digging myself, but 

 about five o'clock I had the box neatly fitted 

 in, the earth packed closely to the sides, and a 

 smooth layer of ashes on the bottom, on which to 

 stand the pots. 



The second Monday in October I finished the cel- 

 lar, and the next few days I potted bulbs all my 

 spare time. The florist told me that the proper 

 soil for forcing was one composed of two parts of 

 loam, one part leaf mold, one part silver sand, and 

 one part pulverized sheep manure. 



I hadn't any loam, leaf mold, or silver sand, so 

 I mixed mine of two parts garden soil, one part 

 ordinary barnyard manure, and one part sand, 

 using a 6-inch flower pot as a measure, and mixing 

 it all well together. I picked out a place near the 

 bulb-cellar to do the work, so that I wouldn't have 

 to carry the pots far. 



A couple of broken pots supplied the crocks for 

 covering the hole in the bottom of each pot, and I 

 got some old rough leaves and sticks to make a laver 



in the bottom to insure good aeration. Then I 

 turned my prepared soil in and set the bulbs right 

 side up in the pots — I planted from four to six 

 bulbs in a pot, one bulb in the middle and the rest 

 in a circle about it. I planted them in firmly, and 

 not very deep, the tops being just covered. 



There were twenty pots of daffodils, because I 

 like them best. I wrote the names of each and 

 their color on those nice, little white, flat labels 

 they have for sale at the florist's. 



"Narcissus, Pseudo-Narcissus, yellow," I wrote 

 on their labels. Then there were twelve 6-inch pots 

 of tulips — "Prosperine, glossy, crimson pink," 

 and "Rose aplati, light pink"; six "Narcissus 

 Van Sion"; twelve "Roman Hyacinths"; six 

 "Narcissus Poeticus"; three "Snowdrops," (I 

 labeled them their proper name, "Galanthus") two 

 Easter lilies and two boxes i8 by 12 inches of 

 crocuses, one box being pale mauve, the other a 

 brilliant orange yellow. I made the soil I planted 

 them in absolutely level and stuck each bulb about 

 an inch apart, then covered them firmly. I wanted 

 them to come up and bloom all at once, which they 

 did. 



When they were potted I watered them and set 

 the pots in rows on the ashes in the bottom of the 

 box. The end of the week saw them comfortably 

 settled with nearly three months for rooting. 

 I wasn't afraid of the cold for I knew that they 

 could stand it; in fact, they did not require a tem- 

 perature of more than forty degrees, and could 

 even freeze a little. 



Two old shutters that I found made a good 

 movable cover for the box, and over them I heaped 

 straw and leaves, a good foot deep. At intervals 

 of two or three weeks I looked at the pots; they 

 seemed inclined to dry out, so I watered them and' 

 covered them carefully after so doing. 



The week after New Year's was an exciting time 

 for me, for it was then I brought in my bulbs and' 

 set them in the windows to grow. Those labeled 

 pots did look so very dead that the rest of the 

 family laughed and were sure I couldn't force them 

 in the house. It was "too cold," they said. I hap- 

 pened to know that a cool, light window was better 

 than a warm, sunny one. 



I was right, for the two pots that my sister got 

 interested in and kept putting in the sun and 

 warmth, produced a lot of leaves and didn't have 

 half as good flowers as the others. I took good care 

 of those bulbs, kept them watered every day or so, 

 and, with the exception of a few pots, they all came 

 out beautifully. I gave away a number, and didn't 

 have to buy daffodils once that February. Alto- 

 gether, the bulbs cost less than five dollars and 

 produced as much as twenty-five dollars' worth of 

 flowers, anyway. It was all so easy and such fun 

 that this year I am planning to do it all over again. 



Long Island. Florence Dixon. 



Dusty Miller as a Hardy Bedding 

 Plant 



THE merest accident revealed to me the hardi- 

 ness of a common bedding plant. A 

 workman was instructed to remove the plant 

 from the various beds in my garden, but was not 



/ -til 



A bed of dusty miller, on October 25tli, after a 

 heavy frost 



allowed time to remove a border of dusty miller — 

 Cineraria maritima, as the catalogues have it. 

 No more attention was paid to the beds until one 

 morning, after a night of stiff freezing, I noticed 

 that the cinerarias still appeared fresh and present- 

 able. The coleus had long since succumbed to 

 Jack Frost; the cosmos, the petunias, and the 

 nasturtiums were black and limp; while the few 

 geraniums that had been left out were withered 

 and dead. It is true that the cinerarias did not 

 stand quite as erect as they had in midsummer, the 

 leaves drooping somewhat more, but the border 

 on the whole appeared just as high and was fuUy 

 as compact as ever. 



This suggests an arrangement for next year, 

 whereby I shall ■ have color before the leaves are 

 fully out, and after they have fallen. I shall start 

 with early flowering tulips set about a foot apart; 

 then, when the season advances, I shall fill in with 

 geraniums spaced far enough apart so that the 

 dusty miller may be planted in between. This 

 will afford the tulips ample opportunity to ripen 

 their leaves. Nor need I fear of getting too much 

 gray, for only the red geranium will be used, and the 

 shades of red, green, and gray that will be thus 

 brought together do not clash. The larger leaves of 

 the geraniums will hide the foliage of the cinerarias 

 to some extent, thereby breaking the gray monotony. 

 Then, after the geraniums are removed, the cin- 

 erarias will continue through the season until after 

 the first hard frosts. This will provide color from 

 as early until as late in the season as it is possible 

 to have in the Northwest. 



North Dakota. C. L. Meller. 



More About Crinums 



IN HIS interesting notes about crinums in the 

 July, 19 10, Garden Magazine Mr. McAdam 

 has correctly quoted me as having grown C. 

 Powelli as a hardy plant. It may be of interest 

 to growers of crinums, as well as to fanciers 

 of hardy plants, to know under what conditions 

 this crinum has grown outside in my garden 

 for twelve or fifteen years, practically without 

 protection. 



We use the word "hardy" very loosely in the 

 garden, but the experienced gardener knows' that 

 all plants have their life limit; and, while many 

 plants will do well if planted "in any old way,"' 

 yet in the majority of cases hardy plants require 

 careful attention as to planting, condition, ex- 

 posure, soil, etc. Crinum Powelli, for permanent 

 exposure outside, should be planted without manure, 

 in good open soil, with a sunny exposure and good 

 drainage, with the base of the bulb at least two 

 feet six inches under the surface. 



With such planting, a strong bulb will, in two 

 or three years, make a clump some six feet in 

 diameter when in foliage. Under such conditions 

 I believe that C. Powelli will be found hardy any- 

 where in the temperate zone, except, of course, 

 under some peculiar local conditions. 



Crinum longijolium (one of the parents of C. 

 Powelli) is also hardy with deep planting (I have 

 wintered it out near the surface), but, like all " cape " 

 bulbs, it is hardy with an "if." In a small garden 

 this species seems scarcely worth the space required 

 to grow it. 



C. Moorei presents another problem. I should 

 not class it as a hardy plant, although I am not 

 prepared to say that it would not survive the winter 

 if deeply planted. But in order to secure the 

 plant in true form it is necessary to grow it in the 

 natural way, with the ovoid bulb only half covered. 

 It would not occur to me to expose any partly 

 covered bulb to the freezing and thawing of this 

 climate. 



This plant has a neck sometimes a foot long 

 crowned with nearly horizontal leaves, and one can 

 get its true form only by planting as suggested. It 

 should be stored inside in winter. 



The treatment of these plants is an instance of 

 the necessity of experience and judgment in the 

 proper growing of things which are of the same 

 family, of probably equal hardiness, and both natu- 

 rally surface growers. 



C. Moorei, by the way, has the finest flowers 

 of any of the species I have seen, and increases 

 rapidly by seeds and offsets. 

 ■ New Jersey. J. N. Gerard. 



