I've thought of an artwork that would fill up a hunk of the Tate nicely. Since it would be modern, and I'm British, it would do equally well for Tate Modern or Tate Britain. Radio 4 after The World at One broadcast a programme about terrible food (fortunately by then we had more or less finished lunch) which featured a long and presumably embroidered tale by a man who collected roadkill. As well as eating it, he said that the pelts 'came in useful' for taxidermy. I hadn't previously thought of a stuffed animal as something useful. A talking point, possibly, or a bizarre piece of furniture, but not a utilitarian object, although if it were a largish animal you could put coats and things on it. However, it gave me the idea for the artwork.
I propose stuffing a large number of roadkill animals. Instead of restoring them to an active and lifelike pose, they should be stuffed prone and squashed, just like they were when they were lying by the side of the road. They will cover the floor of the entire gallery, and will symbolise humanity's violation of the natural world, the destructive effect of the motor vehicle on social cohesion, or the losses we suffer by rushing through life without noticing the small everyday things. Choose your own symbol. I will have to subcontract the actual taxidermy, since it isn't something I've ever learnt to do, but that's fine. Damian Hurst doesn't paint all his own dots. Sadly, not being an established artist I fear they may not offer me the gallery space.
Anyway, I was not intending to blog about fantasy stuffed animals, but autumn bulb orders. It feels very early to be thinking about such things, but catalogues are arriving, and if I leave it too late the choice and interesting plants may be sold out. There are a lot of naturalised bulbs around the garden, and nowadays I top up things that are doing reasonably well on a rotating basis, so last year I added more small daffodils, and this year it's the turn of dwarf tulips. I like to experiment with something new, and if a species really hasn't thrived with me I try to take the hint and not keep persisting with it, or at least not in the same place.
I put in an order this year with Avon Bulbs, having admired a wonderful Mexican umbellifer on their Chelsea stand and written its name down in my notebook for the second time. It is called Mathiasella bupleuroides 'Green Dream'. The catalogue describes it as looking like a hellebore crossed with angelica, which is an excellent way of putting it. I was going to order two, hoping for some viable seed, and then decided to push the boat out and go for three to make a good group. I ordered some other rarities as well, to spread the delivery charge over more than three plants.
I really like the Avon Bulbs catalogue. I have always found the people pleasant to deal with, and the plants are almost always top-notch (they did send me an iris root with bindweed mixed up in it a couple of years ago). The eye-watering part is the prices they charge. I know that I ought to support the specialist suppliers who offer unusual species and varieties I won't find elsewhere, but it feels like the dutiful penance of shopping in good independent bookshops, knowing that I can get most of what they offer on Amazon at only two-thirds of the price. The Amazon of my bulb world is Peter Nyssen, wholesalers also selling direct, which I've used two or three times now. The plants have been correctly labelled and a good size and quality, and they are so much cheaper, not just pennies, but being able to get 25 bulbs for less than the UK growers charge for 10. I put in my Peter Nyssen order last night, for standard things like tulips to go in the pots in the front garden. I'm trying a new (to me) variety of hycinth called 'City of Bradford', a very pale blue that Sarah Raven speaks well of.
The catalogues from the UK companies have two despatch seasons, late summer for things like autumn flowering crocus that need to be planted early, and the main autumn season. Orders from the late summer section carry their own delivery charge, as they come separately, and I tend to be too mean to pay it and skip that part of the list completely. This year I've put in a late summer order with Broadleigh just for colchicums, four different sorts. When the bulbs arrive in late August there will be a panic to work out where to fit them in, but the bulbs I've planted in a panic in past seasons have turned out very well, so I thought I'd try a wider range than I'm going to find at work. Some people grumble about their large leaves, but in a large garden I'm generally happy for anything that helps cover the ground. Mine fit towards the edge of a mixed bed, jostle shoulders quite happily with silver forms of Brunnera, and tuck in around the feet of the roses and hydrangeas.
I might do just one more order, to a Scottish nursery I haven't used before, who offer a good range of fritillaries at sensible prices, or I might tot up the number of bulbs I'm already commited to potting or planting, and call it a day.
If you like the sound of any of these you will find them at Avon Bulbs, Peter Nyssen and Broadleigh Bulbs.
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