The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring, Tra La…… ……or not, as the case may be. It has cost me quite a lot of detective work to discover which suitable plants and flowers for my garden will be at their best in early May for the Spring Gardening Show.

The main structure of my planting is provided by phormiums, bamboo and grasses, which look good for most of the year, but I want to use them to offset the bulbs and perennials I have chosen. As the theme of my garden is an evocation of a show dance chorus, I need some vibrant colour in it!

Quite boldly, I think, I have chosen to plant the burnt orange lily flowered tulip ‘Ballerina’, as well as the dark and mysterious ‘Queen of the Night’. A clash of colours you are thinking? Well, perhaps. However, (and here’s the rub) to order pots of tulips in flower from a specialist grower is madly expensive if you are thinking in terms of swathes, as I am, so I have decided to have a go myself. Hence, the terrace is at this moment covered with 150 odd holed, disposable plastic beer glasses, each of which has been lovingly planted by me with one tulip bulb. I am now watching over these little colour time bombs as anxiously as a broody hen, trying to make sure that they explode with delight at just the right moment in early May. I can bring them on in the greenhouse if necessary, but holding them back might be impossible. Does anyone out there have a spare chill room that they wouldn’t mind getting slightly grubby for a while, just in case I need one?

I’m having fun with some of the other planting too. Not long ago I discovered Astelia nervosa ‘Westland’, a new plant for me. I saw it in a nearby garden centre and I thought it would look great in my show garden. It had strappy bronze red foliage, a bit like a phormium, but was neater and had a more recumbent habit. It looked almost like a very large, fossilised sea urchin. Feeling extremely pleased with myself, I rushed home and looked the plant up, only to find that it only blushes red in the winter, the origin, perhaps of the ‘nervosa’ in its name. How disappointing is that! But that is also the joy of designing with plants since they are living, ever changing and moving.

Meanwhile, the snowdrops are out and shining and the hellebores are blooming in my garden. I enjoy the pale flowers of this time of year, which seem right for the wan light of late winter. They are delicate little appetisers before the main feast of summer colour, and need to be savoured in their time for, as the poet observed, “What are you when the rose is blown?”