Tulip season is the best six weeks of my year

Every November, when the cottage garden has gone to seed and the dahlias are finally lifted, I plant tulips. About four thousand of them, each year, because that’s what fits in the rotation and that’s what the soil will take.

I plant in succession — the early Triumphs, then the doubles, then the parrots — so the first weeks of April through to mid-May give me a steady cut. Each variety earns its space or it doesn’t come back.

The favourites this year are La Belle Epoque (the soft tea-rose-coloured doubles), Belle Époque’s slightly browner cousin Café Brun, and a chartreuse parrot called Green Wave that opens to the size of a saucer. I’m on the fence about Black Parrot — beautiful, but slow to open and the stems don’t hold straight.

Tulip-cutting is one of the great rituals of the year. You cut them tight, in the cool of the morning, before they’ve had the sun on them. They keep growing in the vase for another two days; nobody quite believes me until they see it. The first time you watch a tulip lean over the table for the morning light, you understand why people get obsessed.

Whatever I tell you about my favourite varieties this year, I’ll change my mind by autumn. That’s the point.