Plant bulbs, make friends

This piece was featured first on Feb 19 for One Good Thing, a weekly newsletter brought to you by Alexis Madrigal about his take on Bay Area art, culture & nature. Subscribe today.

Today, just a simple ode to my favorite bulb, the grape hyacinth.

Though I am not the kind of gardener who gets worked up about these differences, they are not a true hyacinth, but belong in the asparagus family. In my yard, they are some of the first flowers up in the spring. In the winter months, they look like thick clumps of grass, and then out of nowhere, their little inflorescences emerge.

What we call their flower is many flowers clustered together. Each tiny flower in the pyramid hangs down, its mouth ringed in white. Some of mine, after the rain last night, are filled with tiny droplets of water. All their flower parts are tucked inside. There’s not much for a human to see. They are not showy. They are not like the hellebores, which their wild anthers. Or like the roses with their big petals and extroverted scents.

There are some plants I think of as happy plants. I have no evidence or reason behind this statement. I can only say: they look happy, so they make me happy. And grape hyacinths are foremost among these. (Also in this category: pink-and-white crabapples, daffodils, carrot tops.) Maybe it’s because they come up so early. Maybe it is the tight little shape, or the way that they grow in what feel like miniature communities, like some mushrooms. Here is a collection of organisms, I think, not simply one plant trying to survive all on its own.

I got my grape hyacinths from my friend Sama. One day, she called me up out of the blue and was like: I have these grape hyacinths, want me to come over and plant them with you? So, we went out and dropped them in around some metal edging I have, nestling them into little crevices. We talked about Sama’s future and what it might look like, the perfect conversation to have over bulbs, which keep time.

When the flowers emerge each spring, I think of Sama, who now runs Reyhan Herb Farm and the Nowruz Market, which is coming up on March 7. (It celebrates Persian New Year.)

During the dry months, the grape hyacinths die back and I forget that they are there. When they do occur to me, I worry that they have disappeared altogether. But then, like clockwork, they start to grow in the fall, and by this past week or two, mine are fully out. My memory is refreshed and I know it is spring again here in my yard and in the northern hemisphere.

In any case, plant bulbs with your friends. Let time pass.

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Alexis Madrigal, Co-Host, Forum