Why early spring is the hungriest time of year

By the time February arrives, queen bumblebees are waking from hibernation and searching for somewhere to nest. Solitary bees are emerging, hairy-footed flower bees are on the wing, and the first hoverflies are appearing. What they all need is nectar and pollen — and there is very little about. Willow, blackthorn and dandelion do their bit, but a cold, wet fortnight can shut those down entirely just when the insects are most desperate.

This is the gap that spring bulbs fill so beautifully. A crocus in February, a clump of winter aconite, a drift of grape hyacinth in April — these are the first proper meals of the year for insects that have no fat reserves left to fall back on. Plant them now, and you are effectively laying on an early breakfast for the whole neighbourhood.

Choosing bulbs that earn their place

Not all spring bulbs are equal in the eyes of a bee. Many garden daffodils, for all their cheer, offer almost nothing. Choose instead the simple, single-flowered sorts that were built to be visited:

• Snake's head fritillary (Fritillaria meleagris) — the star of a damp meadow, flowering April to May with chequered bells that bumblebees push into. It naturalises readily in grass that stays moisture-retentive.
• Grape hyacinth (Muscari) — reliable, cheap and generous with nectar through April. It bulks up into drifts within a few years.
• Crocus — the single, species types such as Crocus tommasinianus and C. chrysanthus flower in February and March and are magnets for the first bumblebee queens.
• Winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) — a January and February lifeline, though it resents disturbance, so plant it where it can stay put.
• Glory of the snow (Chionodoxa) and Siberian squill (Scilla siberica) — both excellent in grass and happy in light shade.
• Snowdrops — modest in nectar value, but they flower when nothing else dares, which counts for a great deal.
• Anemone blanda — a lovely April companion, especially on drier ground.

Planting into grass: what actually works

Bulbs in grass fail for one of two reasons: they are planted too shallow, or the grass is cut before the leaves have finished their work. Get those two things right and the rest looks after itself.

September to November is your window, with October the sweet spot in most of the UK. Work in drifts rather than neat rows — scatter a handful and plant them where they land. This mimics how they grow in the wild and gives insects a concentrated patch to find.

• Lift a flap of turf with a spade rather than using a bulb planter, which compacts the sides of the hole. Ease the turf back and you have planted ten bulbs in a minute.
• Plant at three times the bulb's height. That means roughly 8cm for crocus, 10cm for grape hyacinth and Scilla, and 10–15cm for fritillaries.
• Space them about two bulb-widths apart so there is room to bulk up.
• On heavy clay, drop a handful of horticultural grit into the planting hole. Bulbs rot in waterlogged soil, and nowhere in Britain is short of that.
• Firm the turf back down and water in. Then mark the area with a few small canes, or you will forget where it is and mow straight over the lot.

The uncut rule — and why it matters more than anything else

After flowering, the leaves keep working for roughly six weeks. They are photosynthesising, sending sugars down into the bulb so it can flower again next year. Cut them off early and the bulb is running on empty; you get one good spring and then nothing.

So the rule is simple: no mower in that patch until the leaves have gone yellow and flopped over. For crocus that usually means late April or May. For snake's head fritillary and grape hyacinth, expect to wait until late June or early July. Do not be tempted to tidy them, tie them in knots or fold them over — all of that just reduces the leaf area doing the work.

In practice, this means giving over a corner of lawn, a strip along a hedge, or a patch beneath fruit trees to long grass from autumn through midsummer. The rest of the lawn can carry on being a lawn.

Managing the meadow through the year

Once you have decided to leave a patch long, treat it as a small hay meadow. Take the first cut in late June or early July, set the mower high — about 7cm — and, crucially, collect the clippings. Removing them starves the soil of nutrients, which is exactly what you want. Fertile soil grows coarse grass that swamps small bulbs; lean soil keeps the sward fine and open.

If your grass is vigorous, sow yellow rattle (Rhinanthus minor) in autumn. This native annual parasitises grass roots and knocks it back, opening space for bulbs and wildflowers alike. Follow with a second cut in late August or September, and then leave it alone until the following summer.

A little patience pays off handsomely. In the first spring you may get a scattering of flowers. By year three, self-sown seedlings will be filling the gaps, and by year five you will have a genuine early-season larder — one that hums loudly on any mild March morning.

Small plots, existing lawns and unpromising ground

You do not need an acre. A patch two metres square, tucked behind a shed or under a shrub, will support several hundred bulbs and give the local bees somewhere to go. Even a narrow strip along a fence will do.

On thin, dry ground under trees, stick to crocus, Scilla and Anemone blanda. On damp, heavy soil that holds water into spring, snake's head fritillaries and Camassia will be far happier. If you garden in pots, cluster several containers of crocus and grape hyacinth together — the concentrated scent and colour draws bees in from a surprising distance.

Whichever route you take, plant generously, plant in drifts, and then do the hardest thing of all: put the mower away and let the leaves finish their job.