ANYONE WHO KNOWS ME knows that I tend to regard autumn with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

On the one hand, the days are getting shorter and bringing us ever closer to winter, which is definitely not my favourite season, other than for reading gardening books and magazines.

On the other hand, it's time to wind down most of the gardening - no more mowing, weeding, deadheading, pruning, planting ... wait a minute, there's still some planting yet to do. It's almost time to plant those promises of spring: bulbs.

My long-suffering spouse doesn't know this yet, but I'm planning a new gambit in my crusade to abolish the front lawn in favour of gardens. This fall, I'm going to plant a whole lot of naturalizing bulbs in the lawn.

He won't be able to mow around them, and I'll mulch heavily around them after they come up in the spring, and then start planting new shrubs and perennials and ground covers around them. Pretty sneaky, right?

Naturalizing, for those who are new to gardening, is the planting of bulbs in a way that mimics how they grow in nature. You can be very sure that bulbs of any sort do not naturally grow in straight rows like little soldiers (one of the very few gardening pet peeves I can lay claim to, aside from my intense dislike of goutweed.)

Rather, they tend to spread out and form clumps or masses as they multiply, and where the first year you may have only one or two flowers from each bulb planted, within just a couple of years you'll find yourself awash in "a field of golden daffodils," as Wordsworth described, or admiring a sea of scilla or snowdrops where once only boring grass grew.

As with any type of gardening, there are tips for successful naturalizing. When purchasing your bulbs, select the plumpest, largest ones you can find, and check to make sure they have no mushy or soft spots on them, which indicate rot.

You don't want to buy bulbs that are already sprouting, either, as they may decide to keep right on growing in the fall. If your soil needs amending, add compost or well-rotted manure to improve both fertility and drainage; most bulbs will sulk and rot in soil that is too wet or slow to drain.

For a truly natural look, take a handful of bulbs and toss them gently on an area of garden or lawn, then plant them where they landed.

The more regimented among us may choose to lay bulbs out on the soil so as to make a certain organization in the randomness, but I prefer the toss-and-plant style.

You can plant your bulbs either individually with a dibber or a trowel, or if you have a lot of bulbs to plant you can lift sections of sod and plant under the grass. No matter how you plant them, the rule of thumb is to put them three times as deep as the bulb's height.

What you choose to naturalize depends on your taste and the area to be planted. My dream is to have a sea-like wash of deep blue grape hyacinths and scilla, punctuated with taller, starry blooms of daffodils and alliums. But ever since I saw a very fine naturalized yard of snowdrops and winter aconite in Wolfville, I've wanted to do smaller areas dedicated to these smallest and earliest flowering bulbs.

Daffodils of all types will do well naturalized, although you may need to lift and divide clumps every few years to make sure flowering remains vigorous.

As much as I love tulips, many of them are not terrific for naturalizing, because they only bloom reliably for a couple of years in our climate. There are exceptions, however; some of the species, such as T. tarda, T. pulchella, T. batalini and T. clusiana will naturalize and develop lovely colonies over time.