Foetid toadshade

Trillium foetidissimum

I don’t remember exactly when or why I became enamored with trilliums, but it was certainly at an early stage of my planthood…I mean, childhood. There always seemed to be something magical about these native spring ephemeral woodland perennials. The published material I read as a child, talked about their rarity and difficulty in cultivation, which I would later discover is mostly mythical. My first opportunity to encounter trillium in the wild was as a teen, when I accompanied the late Raleigh wildflower specialist, Margaret Reid, on her legendary, just-ahead-of-the-bulldozer wildflower rescues. Even by the early 1970s patches of trilliums in the region were being replaced by malls and apartment buildings at an alarming rate. Incidentally, Raleigh is only home to only two Trillium species, the upland Trillium catesbiae, and the rarer swamp-dwelling Trillium pusillum.

So, what exactly are trilliums? Like hostas, trilliums are former members of the ginormous Lily family, before recent DNA work sent many members of the former lily family scurrying for a new clan. Even now, trilliums are still being bounced around between several proposed new families, as the adoptive DNA tug of war continues. Taxonomy aside, trilliums are named for their three leaves, which sit atop a short stalk…usually less than 1’ tall, and just below their three-petalled flower. Trilliums are spring ephemerals, meaning they emerge in spring, flower, set seed, and then go dormant before the dog days of summer arrive.

Trilliums are divided into two basic groups, the northern-growing, mostly pedicellate, green-leaved species and the southern-growing, mostly sessile, patterned-leaved species. Although these terms sound fancy, pedicellate only means there is a short stalk between and leaves and the flower, and in sessile trilliums this stalk is missing…sort of like most people who have a neck between their head and shoulders, compared to a steroid-enhanced football player whose head sits right on his shoulders without an obvious neck.

I said most trilliums are spring ephemerals, which is true until you venture into the deep south, where all words have at least three syllables, poke salad is a delicacy, and sweet tea is known as redneck table wine. In these regions, trilliums are winter ephemerals. I am still amazed by any southern trillium that would dare emerge in the middle of winter, and flower alongside Minnesota-hardy lenten roses, often being out of the ground and in bud by late January. If your trillium are growing in a part of the garden which gets some winter sun, they can be in bud as early as late January, or in more shaded spots, as late as mid-March.

The first deep south trillium I grew was Trillium foetidissimum, shared with me by former orchid nurseryman Mark Rose, from a collection near Baton Rouge. I have since had the opportunity to study the diversity of Trillium foetidissimum throughout its entire range in Louisiana. Sessile trilliums like Trillium foetidissimum are prized for their foliage, whose beautifully camouflaged leaves looks like they were designed as props for the set of Duck Dynasty. Each leaf is pewtery-green, highlighted by muted purple spots and blotches. When the flowers finally open in late February, the petals are a lovely dark purple. I should mention the root of the name, Trillium foetidissimum…foetid. Indeed, if you stick your nose into the flower on a warm day, you can detect a distinctive wet dog smell, but trust me, it’s not something that you’ll otherwise notice.

In the garden, Trillium foetidissimum has proven to be one of the easiest and most prolific trillium species we grow. While most trillium species take seven years to flower from seed, Trillium foetidissimum will reliably flower for us in four years after the seed are sown. Trillium foetidissimum also clumps up very well in the garden, and after a few years, are divisible, allowing you to share with friends or spread around the garden. In appearance, Trillium foetidissimum may appear similar to later-emerging I-40 piedmont native, Trillium cuneatum. In the garden, be sure to mark your trilliums with a tag or rock, so you don’t oops…dig into the clump while it’s dormant. Also, remember when you see trilliums for sale in plastic bags in your favorite big box store for a few dollars, rest assured these were jerked from the wild and not propagated in a nursery.

– Tony Avent