On this day in the calendar, it will surprise no-one that I’m writing about daffodils.
Botanically speaking, “Narcissus” is a genus of perennial herbaceous bulbiferous geophytes, namely a plant that lives for many years, dies down into dormancy, and has a bulb as a storage organ. Estimates of the number of species vary from around 20 to more than 80, while the Royal Horticultural Society recognises over 27,000 varieties, varying in size from miniatures like Narcissus asturiensis, which can be as small as 5 cm high (two inches) to the tallest, N. tazetta, that can reach 80 cm (two feet seven). Daffodils have been on this planet for around 20 million years, and their origin is centred on what is now the Iberian peninsular, still the area with the greatest number of native forms. N. pseudonarcissus, known as the Lent or Easter Lily, is endemic to the UK, being especially widely distributed in the “Golden Triangle” centred on the north Gloucestershire villages of Newent and Dymock. The UK also has the distinction of being the largest commercial grower of daffodils in the world – as I write, nearly all supermarkets are flooded with them, as is usual every year, 900 million daffodils being picked in Cornwall alone.
All daffodils are narcissi, but not all narcissi are daffodils … and what about the jonquil? Narcissus is the Latin name for the whole genus, but, in English usage, “narcissus” is reserved for scented flowers with a short, even very short, perianth (trumpet), such as the “Paperwhite” variety often forced for Christmas presents or the late-flowering “Pheasant’s Eye” (N. poeticus), quite likely to be the narcissus of ancient Greek legend into which a self-admiring youth was turned after gazing at himself in a pool for rather too long. What we term "daffodils" all have a longer trumpet, while jonquils, scented like narcissi, generally have rather rush-like leaves.
In garden centres many varieties are sold at this time of year, their bulbs crowded into pots and sticking up above the soil’s surface – not the best way to grow them in your own garden. The rule of thumb is to plant bulbs at three times their own depth, which for most daffodils works out at about 15 cm/6 inches. They can easily be transplanted from such pots straight into your beds, but do split them (they don’t seem to mind some root loss) in order to spread them around in a more natural-looking way. Even if in flower when you do this, they don’t seem to notice: I’ve often done so with that most reliable multi-flowered variety “Tête-à-tête”, a seemingly indestructible miniature, which also increases well from year to year. At only about 20 cm/8 inches high it looks much better in a garden setting than many of the larger “trumpety” forms, and its foliage dies away insignificantly as other plants come into leaf later in the spring. The hideous tying up of daffodil foliage into ugly knots after flowering is to be discouraged, since the leaves need to remain in good condition for several weeks after flowering, so that the plant can build up energy for the next year’s blooms - the gardener can assist this by a timely application of bonemeal.
How to choose good “daffs” for the garden? Many other miniatures have great charm (try “Hawera”, “Jetfire” or the white “Thalia”) and some of the trumpets are very good (the early “February Gold” is one such). Narcissus poeticus I have mentioned already, and it’s definitely worth planting: it flowers as late as May, has a lovely scent and a distinctive short trumpet with a strong red edge (see photo 2). I am still unconvinced of the attraction of varieties with pink trumpets or doubled centres, which to my eye often just look confused (though the exquisite Narcissus eystettensis is a definite exception – see photo 3).
If you want something really different, try planting Narcissus viridiflorus, which, as its name implies, has flowers of a strong green, odd narrow petals, and it flowers in the autumn: a curiosity rather than “a thing of beauty”, it is also not hardy in Britian, so may well not be worth the trouble; and it’s expensive – I’ve seen more than £30 quoted for ONE bulb. At the other end of the price range, the ubiquitous garden centre mixtures, though sold in large quantities and therefore seemingly good value, are rarely effective for a different reason, namely they can easily look rather random, muddled and “spotty” in a garden setting. Separate plantings of different varieties are much more pleasing to the eye, and don’t dismiss the idea of planting some daffodils in your lawn. Grab about a dozen bulbs, throw them in the air, and plant them where they land: remove a little piece of turf, the requisite three bulbs’ depth of soil beneath it, place a little fresh compost in the base of the hole, put in your bulb, return the soil and the turf, and press gently back into place; then water it in well. Do this ten or a dozen times to achieve a suitably uncontrived look. Arguments about when one might be allowed to mow the said lawn may then ensue (not before late May at least), but then I have never understood some gardener’s obsession with greenswarded perfection.
Finally: when to plant? Though we are tempted by the horticultural trade to do so as early as August, this is completely unnecessary. If the soil isn’t frozen, bulbs planted as late as Christmas will almost certainly flower the following spring.
Daffodils are rightly popular as harbingers of spring, and reward handsomely the little trouble needed to grow them successfully. They don’t mind a bit of shade, nor (mostly) drying out in the summer, and cheer us all up on those curious days when winter isn’t quite sure it’s over yet!