The flowery meadow was beloved in mediaeval times but of
late, it’s a brave daisy that dares arise in a lawn.
And then Christopher Lloyd popularised the meadow trend in
Britain and promoted fritillaries and other bulbs in the sward. Crocus (below) and
snowdrops may be the bulbs of choice for our cold climate friends, but I have
chosen the warm climate equivalents – and cheapest – with cobalt grape hyacinth
(Muscari – almost too tall) and milky
blue spring star flower (Ipheion, pictured
above). When I have enough snowdrops to extend the season, I’ll add them; and
I’m thinking of also planting dog rose (Rhodohypoxis,
last picture) for later flowers. Even white rain lilies (Zephyranthes) for autumn, perhaps, white
winter hoop petticoat daffodils (Narcissus
foliosus) and – when I have enough – those pretty lilac crocus.
A downpour of rain in winter combined with drainage
problems led to our little circular lawn becoming – almost - a pond and I
thought my newly planted bulbs would rot. Learning that in spring many Turkish
bulbs grow in extremely wet soil, from snow melt, before the summer-dry,
reassured me just before my little bulbs began to show.
But I didn’t plant them informally, oh no.
I planted my dwarf bulbs in a Fibonacci spiral.
In mathematics,
the Fibonacci sequence is the numbers: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89,
144...defined by the recurrence relation xn = xn-1 + xn-2 and named for
Leonardo Bonacci (known as Fibonacci , c. 1170 – c. 1250); the
sequence had been described earlier in Indian mathematics. (Fibonacci is also
known for introducing the Hindu–Arabic numeral system in Europe.) I read that ` applications include
computer algorithms such as the Fibonacci search technique and the Fibonacci heap data
structure, and graphs called Fibonacci cubes used
for interconnecting parallel and distributed systems.’ But I was more
interested to read that the Fibonacci
sequence: ` also appear in biological settings, such as branching in trees, phyllotaxis (the
arrangement of leaves on a stem), the fruit sprouts of a pineapple, the flowering of an artichoke, an uncurling fern and the arrangement of a pine cone.’ Most of us have
heard of it thanks to novelist Dan Brown.
Shaped like an
unfurling leaf, my spiral represents life itself; at the same time,
maths and reason. Perhaps it’s worked out well that only two types of bulbs are
here, and that they do not last long; it’s an ephemeral display, it’s delicate,
it’s not as heavy looking as this dissertation sounds.
It’s meant to
be light hearted, pretty, and celebrate life.
And I love it.
Jill Weatherhead is horticulturist,
garden designer and principal at Jill Weatherhead Garden Design and garden
writer who lives in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne,
and works throughout Victoria (www.jillweatherheadgardendesign.com.au)
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