Spring meadows are utterly entrancing, lit up with drifts of bulbs catching tentative sunlight and dew. Although creating and establishing them requires some elbow grease, the results are more than a just reward.

Anticipating the first bulbs keeps me going through the darkest of winter days. So I’m taking the time now to ensure that the display is as uplifting as possible.

The first bulbs worth naturalising in grass are snowdrops. You’ll need bagfuls of bulbs to make an impact, but that rush on the frosty February morning when the first nodding white lamp opens makes every hour of crouching and digging and backfilling worth it. Don’t just plant straightforward Galanthus nivalis – as the drifts approach the path, mix in double cultivars such as ‘Flore Pleno’ (which insists that you crawl up to it and peer up at its frilly skirts, and even if your knees are covered in worm casts and soggy grass, you will be smitten and entirely helpless), or even rarer, yellow varieties. At Nymans in Surrey, I saw these dainty little bulbs interplanted with the Spring Snowflake, Leucojum vernum, which to all intents and purposes is a larger, Tiffany lamp-shaped version of the snowdrop.
The key to naturalising bulbs – and by naturalising I mean plumping their cushions and welcoming them so well that they decide to stick around and set seed and spread, rather than just plonking a load of bulbs in artful yet unsustainable drifts – is habitat. You’re never going to persuade Snake’s Head Fritillaries to spread in a dry, sandy patch of ground, so don’t try it. And if you’re obsessive about mowing as soon as Spring announces itself, then you’ll never find your daffs and camassias spreading very far at all. Bulbs need to feel welcome, so study their habitat very carefully. Find out where they originate – for example, camassia (pictured), grows in damp meadows in North America. And then pick your bulbs accordingly. If you have a boggy, scrappy patch of grass, then go for damp-craving bulbs. It isn’t difficult: just don’t try to be clever.
Throw handfuls of the bulbs over the patch of grass you are planting up, and plant them where they fall for a natural look. Don’t overcrowd them: these plants are sticking around for a while, so they need some space. Just lift a flap of turf and dig down a few inches before planting the bulb, backfilling with soil and replacing the bulb. For a more temperamental genus such as Fritillarias, grow on in pots until the first shoots have appeared. Planting out at this stage will help the plants establish themselves.
And then leave them. Yes, leave them. Don’t mow the grass until the foliage has died back, or you’ll limit their ability to flower the following year. If this sounds a bit messy to you, try mowing and strimming a sharply defined path through your exquisite meadow: the contrast between velvety grass and raggle-taggle flowerheads will make you wriggle your toes with delight.