Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

What a wonderful surprise in this “new” place to find these bulb flowers popping up under a small nandina bush!  The large yellow King Alfred daffodils that seem to be everywhere are welcome but what a treat to discover that the previous residents cared enough to plant something extra special—these daffodils* have pale yellow outer petals and short trumpets in two orange hues.  After the first of them bloomed, the temperature plummeted into the teens so I brought them in.  They’re “like sunshine on a cloudy day.”

*What’s the difference between daffodils, jonquils and narcissus?  Hint—they’re all narcissus.
http://homeguides.sfgate.com/difference-between-daffodil-jonquil-61404.html 

Oskar Update

Though the flowers are gone, Oskar the amaryllis is still growing strong. Its long, strappy leaves will store up plant food*—chlorophyll to make the bulb strong.

Part of the beauty of growing amaryllis bulbs is that they last for several years. Yesterday when looking back through my garden journal I saw that one year an amaryllis bulb I had had for awhile refused to bloom indoors so I set it and its pot outside as soon as it was warm; one day I was surprised with beautiful red flowers. Don’t give up too soon.

*As my botany instructor emphasized, chlorophyll, which comes from the sun is plant food, not fertilizer; fertilizer is for the soil.

Welcome Back Sunshine!

The sun is back and I’m rejoicing! The indoor garden is glad too since it doesn’t benefit from the rain. Though the remaining outdoor garden seems unfazed by the overnight heavy frost--even ice, the warmth is welcome.

I realize that I write about weather a lot; to a garden weather is everything (except in a very controlled environment) and to our lives—and all of God’s creatures, as well. Even in a building with no windows and plenty of artificial light, the atmosphere looks and feels different when it’s cloudy outside.

Oskar’s number one bud has shot up to a foot tall! Bud number two is progressing as well. Number one just might bloom for Christmas, if not the “first day of Christmas”, perhaps one of the “twelve days of Christmas”.

Loud, With Clouds

The sky is a gray blanket that bird calls bounce off of; one bird squeaks like a swing on its bar then a crow squawks either his prowess or unhappiness—I’m not sure which.

Despite the raucousness and gloom some new and good things are happening. Two tiny leaf tips and another bud are peeking out of Oskar’s bulb! Multiple buds are a benefit of the larger amaryllis bulbs.

Oskar is from Holland, where Brother Andrew* writes that during World War 2, his family and many others survived the famine of Nazi occupation by eating tulip bulbs. Maybe that’s why Oskar’s box carries this caution, “Not for human consumption.”


The Mexican Petunia is actually developing new buds while the miniature orange zinnia and Sweet William are blooming again. Today is also a Red Hibiscus Day.

*Brother Andrew is famous for smuggling Bibles into the foreign Soviet Union and writing about it in his book, God’s Smuggler—an exciting read!

A New Home for Oskar

It’s time to put the pieces of the puzzle together and settle Oskar into a home so that it can grow properly.

The directions say to put the “planting disc” in the pot—what an improvement over the usual bag of light soil that easily goes airborne, and add approximately two cups of warm water. It’s bubbling and popping; this is fun.


“Fluff with fork.” Hmm…dig might be a better word. “Add more if needed.” Yes, more water is definitely needed unless I want a solid bottom layer. Another cup; more digging. It needs still more but how much more? A little more, more—stop. It takes three and three-quarter cups of water. The gold-colored pot is heavy and warm, with no drainage holes.

I’m to set the bulb in the soil with one or two inches of bulb showing above the soil. This will take newspaper on the floor and a trowel.

Now that Oskar is settled in, I’m to put it pot and all, in a warm place. I certainly have that in the morning windows.


We’ll have to see if Oskar will bloom by Christmas or not—the box says “8-10 weeks.” I may have started too late but then again, maybe not. I’ll keep you posted.

The weatherman’s thermometer read 29 degrees this morning when we got up. White frost covered everything but I covered nothing. And everything from the purple sweet potato vine to ‘Victoria Blue’ salvia to the peppermint is fine (though the yellow-green sweet potato vine is definitely waning). It’s time to put away the sheets.

Meet Oskar

Oskar isn’t a puppy or a kitten but a red amaryllis bulb. Oskar is the variety name for this giant red and there are undoubtedly millions of them—but then there are millions of Davids and Anns too. One of my garden books says that the best bulbs are sold by name rather than color; the named ones are grown “vegetatively” while the ones sold by color are grown from seed and not as good a quality*. The Latin name for amaryllis, Hippeastrum, is variably defined as knight on a horse, knight star or horse star (because it’s so big).

It’s been awhile since I’ve grown an amaryllis but I decided that it would be nice to have one for Christmas, and to share its growth with you.

I bought Oskar at a giant home improvement store, checking through several boxes to find one that had sprouted a bud rather than only leaves—sometimes if leaves come first, that’s all you get.

Boxes and boxes were stacked shoulder high; red, red & white striped, pink, pink & white, white & pink as well as white vied for attention. I leaned toward getting the deep pink but somehow, in my mind, amaryllis and red always go together—especially at Christmas. Besides, it had a gold-colored pot and I’ve inherited from my great grandmother, a fondness for gold paint.

My first memory of anything to do with amaryllis flowers is the name of the little girl in the movie The Music Man. A pint-sized Ron Howard liked her but was too embarrassed to talk to her since his lisp made her name very difficult to say.


Much later, though as I said, I had grown several amaryllis plants and photographed them and had drawn and painted most any other kind of flower, for some reason I couldn’t draw or paint an amaryllis. But I persisted and accomplished this collage/painting The Lord Turns My Darkness to Light.

*Crockett’s Indoor Garden, James Underwood Crockett; p.12