Thrilled about TRILLIUMS The stars of spring are making themselves felt with their captivating presence
It always feels like a special sort of celebration, a spring festival, when our erythroniums and trilliums start to flower. It takes a lot of plants to make a garden but there are always a few that stand out from the crowd. They don’t do so by ostentation, by drawing attention to themselves with large or brightly coloured flowers but rather by some innate charm, an allure that’s irresistible.
They’re the kind of plants it feels worth dropping to your knees for or even prostrating yourself, despite the cold, to meet them face to face. Fortunately for my knees, many of these treasures in the garden here are growing in the raised beds in front of the shed. Many of these memorable plants, especially those that bloom in the spring, are bulbs. Many of them come from shady places, woods and forests across the northern hemisphere. Both trilliums and erythroniums hail from North America. One day perhaps I’ll see the woodland floor in the Appalachian Mountains or one of the many places in the USA and Canada where trilliums thrive. Meanwhile I’ll enjoy them in the garden here at Glebe Cottage, be they on a much-reduced scale.
The first trilliums we grew here were given to me by my friend Richard Lee who was head gardener for Lady
Ann Palmer at Rosemoor garden and continued to work there when the RHS took over. Sadly, Richard died long before his time, but his plants continue to grow and thrive. The trilliums he gave me are T. chloropetalum, with large, darkly marbled bracts and deep crimson flowers. In common with all trilliums, everything is in threes: petals, sepals, bracts and leaves – even anthers are all in three parts.
This trillium seems to exert a power over everyone who sees it, stopping them in their tracks, luring them in for a closer look.
Erythroniums, too, seem to exert this special power, though in their case it’s their fairy tale grace that enchants. Like so many bulbs, the leaves come bursting through the earth with such rapidity they take you by surprise – but they don’t give you a shock, quite the opposite in fact. You become mesmerised by the patterns they possess, marbled green on green or tan on green, like looking into clear but swiftly moving water on a sunny day.
Though the leaves are remarkable, the flowers are the crowning glory. Long, pointed buds, facing downwards on curved stems, eventually lift themselves up and open so that all six petals curl back on themselves. As they reflex, the anthers and stigma protrude, allowing insects easy access to nectar and pollen.
There are several different varieties from which to choose, some of them quite widely available, others worth searching out from specialist nurseries. Although bulbs are available in autumn – they look like canine teeth hence their common name of dog’s tooth violets – I prefer to buy them as growing plants. The species will often seed themselves around and you can divide up clumps of established bulbs during the dormant season. Right now it’s time just to enjoy the flowers.
‘This trillium seems to exert a power over everyone who sees it’