Candy Land

Years ago, we made a pilgrimage to Mr. Mulch's homeland -- Sweden -- to trace his roots and introduce our younger daughter to her distant relatives.  She was at the time a very cute, blonde, freckle-faced 10 year oldinclined to wear her hair in long braids, which of course encouraged all her cousins to call her Pippi Longstocking.  To her great pre-adolescent dismay and embarassment.  

We tried to find sights of interest that might compensate for this humiliation, so
on our drive from Stockholm to the family homestead in Växjö in Southern Sweden, we  stopped in Granna, the Peppermint capital of the world!  The Swedish word for peppermint is Polkagris, which means Polka (the dance) Pig (which apparently was an endearing term for candy back in the day -- go figure), and it was invented in Granna in 1859 by Amalia Eriksson, a poor 35-year-old widow trying to support herself after the death of her husband.  Little did she know that she was starting an industry that would support the entire town!  There are at least a dozen shops where you can watch it being made and even more where you can buy it -- in just about any color you want, and some you might never have thought of.

Red, Green, Yellow, and many other colors of Peppermint... Polkagris!

What on earth does this have to do with my garden?  Ummmm... tulips?!
 
I know, I know.  Two posts on tulips risks overload.  But I planted soooooo many last fall, and they don't last very long, so they must be savored, and I promise this will be the end of the topic this season.  So humor me for one more post.

Since I have virtually no recollection -- and stupidly, no record -- of what I planted where, their emergence has been a delightful surprise in general.  There has been one specific stretch of blossoms that is a particular delight, and my amnesia regarding both their provenance and their name is total.  But based on the digression above, I have the perfect moniker: I shall christen them Polkagris.

It appears that I bought and planted about 100 tulips which bear a striking resemblance to the product that put Granna on the map.  Red and white, purple and white, and yellow and red candy striped tulips populate a big swath on the west side of the mound garden and flank the entry to the house. It's hard to really appreciate their sweetness in a long shot...

 But up close, they look like something you'd fine on the shelf in Granna...

Your classic red and white Polkagris

Grape Polkagris

And the fiery Dragon Polkagris

Happily, these bloomed about a week later than the other tulips, so they'll probably hang around a bit longer too, prolonging the season.  But I promise not to write about them again.  Really.

Despite my fascination with these fleurs, I am a gardening realist.  In fact, I've already laid plans for the post-tulip garden.  If you look closely in that last picture on the lower left, you'll see the nasturtiums I planted this past weekend.  There are now plugs planted throughout the tulips bed, so by the time the tulips are gone, nasturtiums will populate the mound with their colorful, and edible, veil.  

I hope they do as well in this location as they did on the rock wall of the herb garden, where they draped the entire area in a green cloak with an endless supply of red, orange, and yellow blossoms, many of which found their way into our salads.  So much as I love the first blooms of spring, I have no problem succession planning -- or planting.  But do me a favor, and don't mention it to the tulips... I don't want them to give up any sooner than they have to!