The little brown bulbs went to sleep in the ground,
In their little brown nighties they slept very sound,
And winter he raged and roared overhead,
But never a bulb turned over in bed.

But when spring came tip-toeing over the lea,
Her finger on lip, just as still as could be,
The little brown bulbs at the very first tread,
All split up their nighties and jumped out of bed.

Margaret Prescott Montague

GDD = 47

Driving through the neighborhood earlier this week, I noticed the first crocus blooms, pale purple,naturalized in some lawns. The ones that I planted last fall arrived a few days later. This morning will be my first chance to get a good look at them,as by the time I get home from work the sun has moved to the rear of the house and the crocus have already begun to close for the night.
Crocus Flavus “Yellow Mammoth”
Crocus Vernus“Flower Record”
The one variety is a bright yellow the other a light purple. I planted them in groups along the front walk and judging by their early performance will add more in this area in the fall.


2 thoughts on “Bulbs

  1. Margaret Prescott Montague wrote this poem. My sister was her secretary and Miss Montague dictated to the typewriter, as she was almost totally blind. This was in the 1930’s.. She can be googled.


    1. Thank you for the information. I have added Miss Montague’s name to the byline. I found the poem in a 1930’s gardening book that listed it as of unknown origin. Thank you again.


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