Yes, it’s weird to talk tulips in summer – but early bulb planning will pay dividends come spring

The Instagram ads started a few weeks ago. After some confusion, (“Why am I seeing a tulip … in August?”), I realised my cookies had caught up with more organised gardeners, and I should think about ordering bulbs.
Yes, spring bulbs: what people traditionally start planting in October, but the more hectic among us, myself included, don’t get around to until January. For what it’s worth, you can plant them in January, and they will still come up fine – I find it gives the squirrels less time to dig them up. But this week I want to talk about bulb ordering – even bulb planning – which may feel overzealous for August, but you’ll thank yourself come spring.
I know from experience that every year I say I’m going to be more restrained with my order, but then cave in the November sales and take a scattergun approach to bulb shopping. (There’s something about tulips that can inspire regret, especially curated containers of the things, showing off on a friend’s patio when it’s far too late for me to plant more.)
I nearly swore off tulips after this miserable, mollusc-laden spring, but then they showed up late and lit up my scraggly lawn like lanterns, the same height as my yearling son’s head, and I realised I could never really see a spring without them.
I’m still figuring out my strategy this year: looking back at photographs of the garden helps. It’s surprisingly hard to remember what grew well when you are in a different season, with entirely different plants. My phone snaps remind me that the combination of narcissus poeticus var. recurvus, or Pheasant’s eye, with the swooping flowers of perennial tellima grandiflora, is a heavenly one, and that the pink-and-green striped ‘China Town’ tulip really hits the spot in the same bed. It’s as useful at telling me what didn’t work: like my failed grand plan for candy-coloured early Tulipa saxatalis rising from the gravel.
Some people lift and save tulips after flowering, to plant again in the autumn, others lift and compost, and still others leave them to pop up again next spring. I used to be in this last camp but after repeat disappointments I decided last year to uproot mine and start afresh. Now is my time to build those envy-inducing tubs of tulips.
It’s a fun prospect, entailing a lazy afternoon in the sun with the nursery catalogues. I’ll be sticking to my colour scheme (pale pink, white and yellow) and throwing in lots of narcissi for good measure. The smell and taste of them deters squirrels – and nothing’s cheerier than a daff after a long winter.