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I've been on a bit of a bulb-buying frenzy lately, and have more bags of narcissus than I know what to do with.To celebrate the purchase of my first flat a few weeks ago, I treated myself to some pheasant's eye daffodil bulbs. These are beautiful

piece of a jigsaw puzzle, it fits into place, adding to the memory of the old garden. A few years ago I discovered pheasant's eye daffodil, Narcissus poeticus var. recurvus (pictured, left), which I'd last seen growing in a pot, aged four. Its scent

spring bulbs. I've no idea where they're all going to go.Last year's spring bulb display went a bit wrong. In March my garden was a muddy building site and the daffodils I grew in pots looked a bit out of place. When I planted my containers of alliums

my mum's plum tree.When browsing through seed catalogues recently I came across some pretty horrible plants. Take daffodils, for example. You can't beat the elation of seeing your first daffodil of the year in flower. But I don't think I'd like

.I recently discovered what happens to spent municipal plantings in my area. Tucked behind an advertising billboard, I found an enormous pile of discarded daffodils bulbs left by parks gardeners, it was taller than me. The bulbs had been dumped

I love the way plants hold associations with places and key events in your life. Some - like pheasant's eye daffodils - I grow in my garden as a fond reminder of the childhood associations I have with them. Others somehow seem to slip the net

the supermarket or my allotment. In November I want mists, cooking apples, fallen leaves and hoar frosts please.My daffodils are showing signs of bursting into growth. I just hope the primroses don't start into bloom. What, then would I have to look forward