Gardening with Galligan: Tulips, the lipstick of the garden

There is so much to say about tulips, it’s hard to know where to begin. So logically then, we should begin at the beginning, as in where did tulips come from? In fact, they have a dramatic history. They were found originally growing wild in Central Asia and were cultivated in Turkey as early as 1,000 A.D. — hardly newcomers.

Carolus Clusius, a famous biologist from Vienna and the director of the oldest European botanical garden in Leiden, Holland — and we’re talking now in the 1590s — was researching  medicinal plants and while doing so he got some bulbs from a friend in Turkey. He planted them and this was the beginning of the love affair between the tulip and the Netherlands.

Interestingly, the word “tulip” translates in Turkish into “turban.” And Turks did wear tulips tucked into their turbans; so many times in history, errors become immortalized. But this mistake did not prevent the Dutch from falling in love with tulips. In fact at one point in time, during the 17th century, tulips were actually traded as currency, in the period known as “tulipmania.”

Hybridization started almost immediately. Once again, errors and miscalculation entered in and became history. It was initially supposed that only the solid, smooth and monotoned blooms would be popular. But when several diseases entered the picture, viruses from peaches and potatoes, the results were the new frilly petals and striking “flames” that have made tulips famous for their colorful and unusual appearance. And why they are called “the lipstick of the garden,” it’s the color of the lipstick that gives the face its final glow.

Tulips, if selected properly, can color the garden for at least six weeks, since they come in early, middle and late varieties. If you are making a specific plan, for example as I did, wanting them to bloom with my azaleas, then you must choose accordingly and not make my mistake this spring. My azaleas are just coming into bloom and the tulips nearest them are fading. If I had remembered and chosen the late varieties I would not be as annoyed with myself as I currently am.

However, I have written it all down in my garden book and I won’t make the same mistake again. In fact, I have already chosen the three varieties, late bloomers all, that I will plant nearby. I also noticed something that I hadn’t realized and that probably would be a better solution than the companion tulips. My scilla hispanica, a lovely blue, is almost full. It’s probably what I should have chosen in the
first place.

It should be noted, however, that tulips are deer food, in fact, deer caviar. They should only be planted here on the Island in protected places. I have them in planters on a balcony and behind a fence and so far the fence has worked. I treat tulips as annuals and see this as the most sensible way to go. The bulbs, as we have noted before in discussing daffodils, must “ripen.” In other words, turn brown. This is what’s known as a genuinely unsightly process. Unless you’re into brown. Even then, they will come back in a much smaller version. The tulips that are everywhere for sale in food markets, that measure an inch and a half, are what I think of as “tulip ghosts.” Treating them as annuals, that is pulling them up after bloom and throwing them away, and then using that spot for actual annuals has more than one advantage. Not only do you have space for the annuals, but when they are done, you know where to plant the bulbs. I think that’s really convenient.

Next week, I’ll try to cover the rest of the best — frills, the fringes, the flames, the Rembrandts and my favorites, the viridiana.