Peter Dowdall: Spring colours symbolise renewed optimism

Yellow is the colour of the season for Peter Dowdall, but he's also partial to every other bright shade 

The yellow of the daffodils in spring bring hope and renewed enthusiasm after the long winter. Picture: iStock

Isn't it funny how our likes change during the seasons? The yellow daffodils in the springtime set our hearts alight with the promise of the upcoming season, and the colour seems to symbolise hope and renewed enthusiasm after the long winter.

A small bit of research shows me that in psychology, the colour yellow represents optimism, energy, joy, happiness, excitement, originality, enthusiasm, confidence, hope, and creativity.

But later in the year, I nearly find that bright, vibrant yellow a bit too garish in the garden, preferring, as I do, more muted and warmer tones such as pinks, purples, and mauves. I hope that that doesn’t mean that I am lacking in those positive attributes as the year progresses.

This year I planted masses of Narcissus pueblo in my garden. This is a relatively low-growing variety with smaller flowers than the classic daffodil and many stems producing two or three blooms per stem. I had seen it growing before and had admired it, but had never tried it myself.

I took a bit of a gamble as I planted masses of it and I am happy to say that I am delighted at its display.

CLIMATE & SUSTAINABILITY HUB

The profusion of blooms (I planted about 1,000 bulbs) is simple and breathtaking. It’s a variety which starts off as a pale yellow on first opening and then fades to white.

Muscari are commonly known as grape hyacinths.

I mixed these with masses of Narcissus pueblo armeniacum and the paler blue muscari baby’s breath and I am overjoyed at how well the combination has worked out.

Walkers have stopped to admire and I met one who told me how much she enjoyed walking past it each day. Isn’t it lovely to see how a few flowers can brighten up the spirits?

However, during the summer months, I shy away from the bright yellows, preferring, as I say, the other tones.

I’ve noticed this for many years, and I know that I am not alone on this either, as many people feel the same — I think it must be an inherent link to nature and the natural world within all of us.

The fashion industry too, is very aware of this, using brighter colours in spring collections and opting more towards darker and autumnal colours for their later offerings.

Kerria japonica bush blooms in the garden in spring

, the Easter rose, is another bright yellow stalwart at the moment. This is a plant that has perhaps fallen foul of trends and tastes over recent times, and you don’t see it planted that often anymore, but I remember when I started off in the world of gardening you would see it everywhere and still, visiting older gardens you will nearly always see a clump of it somewhere.

A quite unruly plant which, when not in flower, could nearly be described as unattractive, if I was bold enough to describe any plant as such, but I do like the booms of the kerria, and I find it quite a seasonal plant.

The trick with this one, is to plant it behind other, lower-growing plants so you get to enjoy the flowers when they are in bloom, but the untidy part is hidden by those planted in front of it.

The simple yellow Darwin tulip is another, synonymous with this time of year and perhaps my favourite of all the spring flowering bulbs.

Darwin Hybrid Novi Sun Tulip

The simplicity of the tulip is what I love. As with so many beauties in the garden, it lasts for such a short time in flower — but it is oh-so-worth-it for that beautiful display each year.

I suspect that there is a reason for so much yellow during the spring, and perhaps ecologists and entomologists could enlighten me, for I know that nature has her reasons for everything and just because I don’t know what they are, means nothing. Maybe the bees and other insects that are active in the spring are attracted more to yellow than other colours.

In the summer and autumn, one of the only bright yellow flowers that I can think of is the rudbeckia or black-eyed Susan, which seems to work, and perhaps it’s a more muted shade of yellow — though to my eye, it isn’t — perhaps it is the dark brown, nearly-black centre, from which it gets its common name, that softens its effect.

Whatever it is, it seems apt and at home in the late summer and autumn garden where the yellow daffodil or tulip would just look so wrong.

It seems like only yesterday when all the Christmas and new year celebrations were over and I longed for the spring to come; now, in the blink of an eye, the yellows are all about and suddenly the summer months are beckoning.

As my daffs will fade, soon my tulips will open, and then it will be time for the alliums to take centre stage as the colour palette will change from vibrant yellows and whites to purples and mauves.