jane brocket

tulip madness

When I first discovered parrot tulips 20-odd years ago, I thought they were the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I'm very keen on sliced bread. Since then, one of my favourites has been 'Estella Rijnveld' which is like an exploded raspberry ripple ice cream, and I ordered some bulbs for this spring. So I think these 'Bastogne' parrot tulips must be a packing mistake as I didn't include this variety in my order.

I was reading Michael King's book earlier this week, and in it he describes parrot tulips as 'grotesque'. A little harsh, I thought, until I picked these today. The problem with this parrot in particular - not all parrots are as wild as this - is that they have ceased to look like tulips and started to look like some badly contorted flower that has gone a little mad. In fact, 'as mad as a vase of Bastogne parrot tulips' would be a good alternative to 'as mad as a box of frogs'.

To show you what I mean, here are today's other, saner tulips:

(the mauve tulip at the bottom is 'Blue Parrot', possibly the least mad parrot tulip of all)

cornucopia

[minus the goat's horn]

Nothing at all to do with tulips apart from the fact they I've been reading while they've been growing, and the fact that tulips also reveal their complexity over time, I must recommend In a Lonely Place as one of the best hard-boiled novels I've ever read. I'm not linking to any reviews as it's a slow-reveal book, with a brilliantly modulated and controlled narrative and some wonderfully atmospheric and disorientating Californian fogs. I love the way the story unfolds slowly, with plenty of ambiguity and some classic thriller/noir writing. (The film starring Humphrey Bogart is nothing like the book.)

For more cleverly constructed and gripping novels which keep you wondering about the truth, see The Expendable Man (also by Dorothy B. Hughes), The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and, on a very different subject but absolutely fantastic, The Wife by Meg Wolitzer.

wetnesday tulips

Something a little different. Deeper, darker, duskier. To match the sky.

things of beauty

I went to the London Book Fair last week. It's not an event for authors, but it's fascinating to wander around, looking at what's on publishers' stands, generally taking the temperature of the book world. Of course, the big topic of discussion was the rise and rise of technology, the Kindle, e-publishing, and the general anxiety about the future of the printed book.

If I were a publisher of printed books, instead of bemoaning the onslaught of digital publishing, I would see this moment as an enormous opportunity to make a huge fuss about the beauty of the book, and everything that it can offer that an e-book cannot: lovely paper, stunning covers, carefully chosen typefaces, gorgeous illustrations, and well edited contents. This would be the time to bring in talented designers, creative minds, independent thinkers, and clever editors who want to make beautiful, lasting, tactile books that can be shared, displayed, handed around, shown off. Books that can be seen on the tube and train and bus, books that create a sense of excitement, books that generate talk. Now is not the time to avoid risks, hedge bets, play safe: now is the time to prove that the printed book has a great future. 

I would prove my point by saying, look at the work of ace book designers such as Megan Wilson, Leanne Shapton, Helen Bratby, Suzanne Dean, and the book covers designed by Angie Lewin

Or the amazing Penguin Threads books with embroidered covers by Jillian Tamaki and Rachell Sumpter. (I particularly like the way you can see the back of the stitching on the inside of the covers - a very bold decision, but one that demonstrates just how much you can play with the idea of a book cover).

Or the simple, stylish Persephone Books which are designed to fit into real life in bags, prams, letterboxes, and to give you a nice surprise when you see the endpapers.

Then there's the independently published Rosie Flo books (delightful short video here) which become little works of art as they are filled in.

And Uppercase, a small publisher that is challenging the digital age and the big company model. (I love the way that every copy of the Dottie Angel book is hand-finished and comes with a little envelope of extras.)

And the books produced by Ruth Artmonsky which are beautifully designed, illustrated, and written, and valuable cultural histories.

These are but a few examples of people and publishers who are bucking the trend and proving that books can be things of beauty, and joys forever.

shirley

The tulip in the centre is the first 'Shirley' of the season. It's one of my favourites; although I adore bold and bright tulips, I also like 'Shirley' for its delicacy, and the way the edges of the ivory petals are outlined in what looks like a fine line purple ink that has run a little in the rain. As the flowers develop, the 'ink' runs even more and spreads, like the paper chromotography experiments of school chemistry lessons.

The young flowers start off a deep cream and with no hint of the painterly quality to come, and gradually get lighter and eventually they begin to open and you see the first traces of the purple edging.

So I'm pleased there are plenty more Shirleys to come.

 

smart cookies

Smart cookies like Phoebe don't go out in the torrential rain to pick tulips. They stay inside instead, and make Smartie cookies. (Recipe in this book, and it works every time.)

workbench

My tulip workbench is literally a bench near the kitchen door. This is where I sort the tulips, strip the leaves, compare and contrast, trim, arrange, photograph, and generally scrutinise.

This morning's pick was fantastic - the tulips are revelling in this cool, wet, cloudy weather and are so much fuller, taller, and stronger than they were (even the Guardian was discussing this subject this morning in an article which prompted the first ever question from a teenager about my tulips).

I lined them all up so they looked as though they could be in test tubes on a laboratory bench, which is quite apposite as this is also my bench for experimenting with combinations.

I'd actually really like to have one of these test tube vases (I think they are sold as 'Flex Vases') or just a few dozen real glass test tubes in wooden holders so I could create a proper indoor or outdoor floral lab installation. Or just carry on experimenting.

closer to home

A mere mop-bucket full of tulips. Even the smallest tulip beds in the Keukenhof are larger than our tulip patch.

(Ancient chalk graffiti outside the kitchen)

With my co-planter and bulb partner.

 

not just tulips

Although I've been to the bulb fields once before, it was later in the season and the hyacinths had finished. But this time they were at their peak - enormous, floriferous, vibrantly coloured - and there were huge streaks of purple, indigo, lilac, cerise, pink, and white across the landscape. To walk by or next to one was to be overwhelmed by their perfume. So I've decided to pay more attention to hyacinths from now on; from what I saw in the fields, I would say there are going to be some really beautiful hyacinths available in the coming years.

I also saw a huge variety of muscari in the Keukenhof, planted with other bulbs or on their own. This 'river' is Muscari latifolium which has interesting flowers and is very easy to grow, and the 'banks' are T. sylvestris, or the wild tulip, which is beautifully slender and graceful, and whose head nods in the breeze.

This time I also saw huge amounts of daffodils in the fields and in the park. Mostly yellows and whites, some with spots of glowing orange, all of which are fresh and springlike, but none of the 'pink' - but not quite pink - varieties that were so popular a while ago but were never quite as good as  touted.

And here's a way of planting hyacinths in the garden. First order a few thousand bulbs...

pretty in pink

 
Pink tulips. In stripes.

In curves.

In bright pink.

In Putin pink.

In reddy, peachy, and candy pinks.

In mixed pinks.

In potted pinks.

And very stately pinks.

On show today in Holland and in the Keukenhof.

Also in many other colours. (Henry Ford would be astounded by the range.)