Hello, it is I, your Delphinium. From my vibrant blue spires to my delicate inner bees, I am a being of magnificent potential. Yet, I sense your frustration when I do not produce the flower show you expect. Please, understand that my reluctance to bloom is not stubbornness, but a response to my environment. Let me explain the world from my roots to my would-be blossoms.
If I was planted from seed or am a new division, my primary directive is not to flower but to survive. My first year is dedicated to building a strong, deep root system and storing energy in my crown. Flowering is an immense energetic effort that I simply cannot afford as a juvenile. I must ensure my foundation is secure before I can dedicate resources to such a lavish display. Patience is key; allow me this time to establish my domain underground, and I will reward you with towering spires in my second or third season.
Water is the river that carries nutrients through my veins. When the soil is too dry, I become stressed and conserve my energy for mere survival, abandoning any plans for flowering. Conversely, my roots demand oxygen as much as they demand water. Soggy, waterlogged soil suffocates them, causing rot and preventing them from absorbing the very nutrients needed to form flower buds. I require consistently moist, but never saturated, soil. It is a delicate balance that is crucial for my performance.
To create my magnificent flowers, I require a specific and balanced diet. A lack of phosphorus—a key nutrient for bloom production—will result in lush green foliage but no flowers. However, an overabundance of nitrogen, often from well-meaning but incorrect fertilizers, pushes me to produce excessive leaves at the expense of blossoms. You must feed me with a fertilizer that is higher in phosphorus (the middle number) than nitrogen (the first number) as I begin my growth in spring and as I prepare to set flower buds.
I am a child of the sun. My very process of photosynthesis, which creates the energy for growth and flowering, is fueled by sunlight. While I may tolerate some light shade, especially in intensely hot climates, less than six hours of direct sun leaves me energy-deprived and languishing. I will become leggy as I stretch weakly towards the light, with all my energy going into this desperate search rather than into forming flower spikes. For a spectacular bloom, I need to bathe in full sunlight.
After my initial glorious bloom in early summer, I may appear to be finished. But if you practice what is called "deadheading"—snipping off the spent flower spike down to a point where you see new, smaller side shoots—you can encourage me to produce a second, though smaller, flush of flowers later in the season. This prevents me from putting energy into seed production and redirects it back into bloom creation. A gentle trim and a light feed after the first flowering can work wonders for my encore performance.
