When Steve and Mary Sernka moved to Parker from Westminster five years ago, they had no choice but to garden.
Along with the keys to their new home in the Bradbury Ranch neighborhood, they got a huge corner lot capped with a thick layer of builder-grade clay, packed down hard.
They saw big potential in their U-shaped spread, even if it meant digging in deep to create a series of garden rooms to hug the back of the house.
And truthfully, Mary was looking forward to creating a garden heavy with spring blooming bulbs, which had only rotted in the ground when she lived in Texas.
She was after daffodils, in particular, which need a deep chill to start the spring bloom.
The first season was devoted to creating a foundation for a garden that is in bloom from February, when pale violet crocus emerge to herald spring on trumpets loaded with bright orange pollen, to the last days of September, when a cloud of white, fall-blooming clematis rides the fence and purple asters reach their sad end.
They dug in yards of soil amendments and plotted a hardscape path. They installed a black steel arch that leads to a secret patio ringed by native roses, carved out narrow beds for red-hot xeric plants, and plotted a 10-zone drip sprinkling system.
Beneath it all, they tucked in thousands of bulbs.
Dwarf iris, brilliant blue with white speckled throats. Patches of stubby species tulips first in white and then magenta push through thick mats of mint and thyme. Spent crocus and grape hyacinth foliage leans into drifts of deep red Apeldoorns. Bells of barely blue Puschkinia squill and fragrant purple hyacinth nod on pale green stems.
And then there are daffodils.
Bright clutches of tiny bright yellow tête-á-têtes and stands of lemon yellow Carltons. There are clumps of giant King Alfreds and long lines of creamy Thalias drawing the line between berm and lawn. There are Ice Follies in cream with pale yellow cups, and frilly double Flower Drift, with its translucent clear saucers backing cheeky ruffled orange and yellow cups, and Anemone blanda White Splendour windflower planted at their feet.
Last month, when the first wave of perennials was just starting to push up in a strong statement of summer potential, Mary looked across her drifts of dancing jonquils. “I just love daffodils,” she said.
