Visiting the Great-Great-Grandparents of the Daffodils
Dear readers,
The Pentecost Burner. Ask a bulb grower what a Pentecost Burner is and there's a good chance he'll answer, "Not good, it costs a lot of bulbs." The average Dutch family loves it, but tulip growers lose sleep over it. Lovely weather at the beach during Pentecost sounds wonderful until you're growing tulips. This year we had one like I've never seen before. Especially the third day of Pentecost was absolutely brutal. In the bulb trade, a Pentecost Burner is a period of extreme heat around Pentecost. Normally this is the time when tulip bulbs are growing at their fastest, provided it doesn't get too hot. Tulips standing in the field really take a knock when they spend several days baking in full sun at temperatures above 30°C (86°F). After last week's heat, the chances of an abundant tulip harvest this year have become rather small. A top harvest has evaporated with this heat.
Enough complaining. Last week I promised to finish the story of Viva La France. It turned into one of those surprisingly fun trips right at the end of the flowering season. Yes, things never quite go the way you think they will. As I'm typing this I suddenly think of a quote by the Dutch comedian Herman Finkers: "If you think about something long enough, you'll always end up with something that doesn't make sense. Try it, it always works."
I didn't have to think long about the invitation to go to France and see daffodils growing in their natural habitat. My car's tank full, bunch of daffodils in a tin can, and off I went. I had been there once before, 19 years ago together with Eric, so that was probably why I was kindly asked to show the way.
One of the nice things about travelling to the south of France is that you pass through Paris. And as we've known for centuries, Paris is beautiful. We were therefore lucky enough to spend three or four hours there. What a treat!
You are probably imagining us just sitting comfortably on a little square like Place du Tertre enjoying a vin rouge with a view of Montmartre… almost, the street we were on is called the Periferique. No wine, no terraces, no parasols, a true catastrophe.
Fortunately, waiting is my hobby, and I was happily enjoying my hobby until we saw the Eiffel Tower in the rearview mirror. Not everyone understands that waiting is a hobby of mine, and of Pien's too, but let me explain. The traffic light turns red and I think, lovely, a nice little wait. The driver in the car next to me, could be a man, could be a woman, is thinking "red light — not again". Then the light turns green and what do you know, I haven't lost a second more than the person beside me. I've enjoyed my hobby while they've spent the whole time annoyed. My tip of the week: make waiting your hobby.
You are probably imagining us just sitting comfortably on a little square like Place du Tertre enjoying a vin rouge with a view of Montmartre… almost, the street we were on is called the Periferique. No wine, no terraces, no parasols, a true catastrophe.
Fortunately, waiting is my hobby, and I was happily enjoying my hobby until we saw the Eiffel Tower in the rearview mirror. Not everyone understands that waiting is a hobby of mine, and of Pien's too, but let me explain. The traffic light turns red and I think, lovely, a nice little wait. The driver in the car next to me, could be a man, could be a woman, is thinking "red light — not again". Then the light turns green and what do you know, I haven't lost a second more than the person beside me. I've enjoyed my hobby while they've spent the whole time annoyed. My tip of the week: make waiting your hobby.
This was 19 years ago, this is where we are going…if they are still in bloom
Daffodils, we carried on towards the daffodils. Our planned arrival at three o’clock turned into something quite a bit later, but luck was smiling on us, and especially on me. I must admit I was a little nervous. Would the daffodils still be flowering? It was already the 13th of May after all. From experience I know that daffodils in mountainous regions flower much longer than they do back home on the Dutch plains. Not so much because it’s colder and the flowers last longer, but because of the difference in altitude. The daffodils in the valleys are the first to bloom, while those higher up the mountains, where it’s cooler and there can even still be snow lying around, take their time and sometimes don’t flower until more than a month later. Even so, I was still a little nervous. You never know for sure.
We had barely started winding our way through the Massif Central when the first cry of excitement rang out. A cheerful clump of Poet’s Daffodils gave us a warm welcome to the French mountains. The Poet’s Daffodil is Narcissus poeticus, a species which is widespread in and around the Alps and the Pyrenees. Is is the snow-white daffodil with that bright little eye in the centre. The English even call her the Pheasant’s Eye Daffodil. A very similar form of this daffodil is widely grown by Dutch bulb growers under the name Narcissus recurvus.
Slamming on the brakes and out of the car. Looking, looking carefully. Not just at the daffodils, but also at the soil and all the plants growing around them were thoroughly inspected. The purpose of this whirwind visit—yes, we only stopped briefly—was mainly to get a good look at the type of soil these wild daffodils grow from. Does the soil in which the daffodil was born and feels at home have something to offer that Dutch flower bulb growers can learn from? After Johanna and John handed over their company, ‘Huiberts Biologische Bloembollen’, to the passionate Naomi and Glen, Johanna and John began to delve deeper and deeper into the subject of soil. They wanted to become soil advisors, helping growers improve their land. As every good gardener knows, a happy, healthy plant starts with healthy soil. Unfortunately, commercial agricultural companies lost sight of this somewhat when they were driven towards producing as cheaply as possible through the use of chemicals and artificial fertilizers. The big buyers wanted as much as they could get for as little as they could pay. Thankfully, we have gradually come to realise that chemistry does a little more than just good. Farmers know that better than anyone, they probably knew it first. But what is the alternative? Growers would love to use less chemistry, much less, preferably none at all. At the same time they have responsibilities to their customers, consumers, employees and families. The bills still have to be paid and commitments still have to be met. There I go wandering off the topic again. That’s a completely different newsletter, one that will probably be called "Only in The Leperlaar". Brace yourselves, in a few weeks’ time, I might press the pen to your nose too. Now where were we? France, the daffodils, the soil.
With all the knowledge they gained during their years in organic bulb growing, John and Johanna want to learn as much as possible about soil and the life that exists within it.
To help with that they teamed up with a soil biologist named Jelena. Or perhaps I should say a soil microbiome specialist. Sounds like quite a mouthful, but she’s simply a cheerful young woman who will happily talk non-stop if you ask her a simple question about soil. Jelena explained to me that a single handful of healthy soil contains billions of microbes. Fungi, bacteria, protozoa and nematodes, all invisible to the naked eye but incredibly important for healthy soil and healthy plants with good natural resistance. Actually, it is exactly the same as in your own gastrointestinal system, she explained. Billions of tiny microorganisms live in your gut. If your gut flora is in good shape, you feel fit and full of energy. If it’s out of balance, things start rumbling and grumbling, you lose your appetite and generally feel a bit sluggish. Plants also need a healthy microbiome to grow vigorously and stay healthy. In short, we thought her expertise might come in handy on this trip, so we found her a seat in the car as well.
Well, I’m racing towards a thousand words again this week and I’ve still got so much left to tell. I think I lingered too long in Paris. I’ll simply start writing a bit faster, then perhaps nobody will notice we’ve gone over a thousand words. You’ll have to read a little faster too, of course.
We saw a lot of daffodils, a great many daffodils. That little clump of Poet’s Daffodils was merely a warm-up act for the enormous numbers of daffodils we would see later on.
Narcissus pseudonarcissus, in the lower regions it had already finished flowering.
Alongside the wild Narcissus poeticus we also saw plenty of Narcissus pseudonarcissus. The pseudonarcissus is, in a way, the great-great-grandfather of the large yellow daffodils that brighten our gardens every spring. In the lower regions of the Central Massif the Narcissus poeticus was still flowering, while here and there you could see patches of pseudonarcissus that had already finished blooming. Another little fact you might enjoy is that whenever you see a modern daffodil with orange, red or pink colouring in its flower, you can be almost certain that Narcissus poeticus is somewhere in its family tree. Those colours originate from the little red rim that surrounds the eye of the poeticus Daffodil.
Narcissus pseudonarcissus
Right at the top of the ski slopes in Super-Besse, the Narcissus pseudonarcissus was still flowering in abundance. We were at an altitude of 1,400 metres and it certainly wasn’t the sunniest day of the French spring. I was here with Eric back in 2007 and honestly, nothing has changed. Still breathtakingly beautiful and still an unimaginable number of daffodils. Looking around and thinking about how many we had already seen that day, and remembering all the daffodils Brian and I have come across in Spain over the years, I know one thing for certain: there are many, many more daffodils than are cultivated in the Netherlands. The daffodil really is a beast of a bulb. Go on then, plant a few extra in your garden this autumn.
Time to wrap things up. Until next week.
Kind regards,
Carlos van der Veek
