I was never much one for potted bulbs. The allotment was for vegetables, and fruits and annual flowers. Our terrace had been a cascade of clematis, climbing roses, jasmines and rhododendron. Walls covered with flowering trellis. A country garden on a small city rooftop.
With the arrival of Plot 29, Henri took over at home. Soon gone the tonne of marble pebbles, the failing teak furniture, the almost claustrophobic colour. In came a cleaner, leaner Danish-architect aesthetic. No longer trying to clutter my foster-father’s Devon croft on to a Kentish Town terrace. Sprawling plants and bushes found new homes in Kala’s garden where we can happily still see them.
Soon I found a new obsession. Beautiful bulb catalogues, from Bloms Bulbs, from tulip specialist Peter Nyssen, from our favourite Farmer Gracy, sometimes Sarah Raven. Spring impulses in autumn. A delicious anxiety of winter waiting.
Mayday lily of the valley came first, because both our mothers loved them. A perennial pot. Plants now also transplanted to the summerhouse. Shyly showing in among the base of the silver birch, settled now, spreading further.
But it was in London at first where the spring bulbs took over. Ever more planting. Ever more ambition. Multiple tulips, narcissi, muscari, daffodils.
The weeks of scanning bare soil for signs of life. Almost daily, we ask ourselves: ‘Is that a plant tip pushing through?’ Until, at last, it is undeniable.
Then came ‘lasagne’ planting, layered multiple bulbs in each pot. Suddenly, you could have it all: early, late, short, tall, tulips, daffodils, many shapes, colours, sizes. The palette widened.
We have settled down a little now. This year, four pots. Varieties, styles and colours gradually giving way to each other.
I sit with a book, a pot of tea and Henri. The simple landscape subtly changes. Pots are moved up or down. In and out of more prominent positions. Our own small world. In spring.
Allan Jenkins’s Plot 29 (4th Estate, £9.99) is out now. Order it for £8.49 from guardianbookshop.com
