“Now THIS Is an Old Bulb”
One of my favorite stories about this bulb comes from a convention I was presenting at in San Antonio, down by the Riverwalk, to an international flower-bulb group — growers and exporters from all over the world, including Israel.
I droned on and on about how old and historic our bulbs are, the ones we find on the old abandoned homesites across the Southern United States, and they listened politely. Then I put up a picture of this Sternbergia, and the room perked up. There was some chatter, and a man raised his hand. I called on him.
“You have been talking about old bulbs,” he said. “Now THIS is an old bulb. We have seen this bulb on ancient Babylonian sites.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d been talking about perennial bulbs that live in a garden for hundreds of years. He was talking about sites where this bulb has been around for thousands. “Yes,” I said. “That is old.” Everyone had a good laugh.
A Flower of Many Names
You may have heard about Sternbergia lutea from your parents or grandparents — though they may have called it something else entirely. Yellow autumn crocus. Winter daffodil. Mt. Etna lily. Buttercups. Even the Lily of the Field. This one bulb has collected all those names because of the impression it makes: bold yellow, arriving out of nowhere, surprising gardeners every fall. A native of Greece, it’s one of the first flower bulbs grown in America.
Is This a Daffodil?
No — it isn’t. You’ve probably already noticed that the genus is Sternbergia, not Narcissus. They’re both in the Amaryllis family, so they share several family traits, especially in the look of the flower. But this “Autumn Daffodil” actually behaves far more like its cousins the red and yellow spider lilies, who are also part of that family.
And yes, when it first opens it looks a great deal like a crocus. But the crocus belongs to the iris family — so technically the two aren’t even cousins.
Where We See It
This time of year we see a lot of these blooming from Dallas out west of Fort Worth and all the way down to Austin. It seems to prefer those clay and rocky soils where it can dry out over the summer. It doesn’t mind the nice sandy loam of our farm either — but we don’t find much of it on the old home sites across East Texas, which is unusual for a bulb like this.
What to Expect
You might see foliage anywhere from January through May, and you might not — don’t worry either way. The foliage dies down with the first warm weather of spring, and then the bulb goes completely dormant through the summer. Most people expect to see something growing in the summer months. You won’t.
Then the flowers appear with the September rains. One day there’s nothing; the next, a surprise — a fully open bloom on a bare stalk. In this it acts just like the red spider lily, the yellow spider lily, the schoolhouse (oxblood) lily, and the naked ladies. Here’s the way to remember it: you will never see a Sternbergia bloom standing over full green foliage. The flower always sits on a naked stalk, with maybe a little fresh foliage just starting at the base.
The bloom itself is only four to six inches tall. It starts as a little crocus cup and then opens its petals wide to two or three inches across. Expect a couple of weeks of flowering.
Planting & Care
Here’s the thing to understand up front: because the foliage comes after the bloom, everything about caring for this bulb is really about winter sun.
Sun: This is the most important part. The foliage needs at least half a day of winter sun. Since you’re gardening for winter here, err toward more sun rather than less — think how fast good sunshine melts a February snow in the open while it lingers in the shade. The blooms themselves appear in September and don’t take in nutrients, so you can plant them under deciduous trees like live oaks or pecans, where the bare winter branches let the bulb gather all the sun it needs.
Zones: Best in zones 7 through 9. Because they need that winter sun, they really don’t do well in colder zones — hard freezes in zone 7 and below can be damaging.
Soil: Happy in clay, rocky, or sandy soil, as long as it drains well; a slightly raised bed is a fine idea. It naturalizes even in the heavy black-land soils that dry out and crack over the summer. It has done well for us in everything from slightly acidic sandy loam to slightly alkaline clay. If you plant in a pot, make sure the drainage is excellent — but truthfully, this one is meant for the ground.
Plant and water: Set the bulbs about four to five inches deep and roughly four inches apart. Keep them from getting too much summer water — they want to be dry while they’re dormant.
After the blooms: Once the flowers fade, little tufts of foliage appear — people often say it looks like “monkey grass.” Don’t cut it; the bulb needs those leaves to feed itself through the summer. The foliage dies back around the beginning of May with the first real warmth, and then the bulb rests until the next September.
Animals: Like the other bulbs in the Amaryllis family, the bulbs and foliage are resistant to deer and other animals — though deer and rabbits will nibble the flowers now and then.
The Closest Thing to a Crocus
It’s a popular bulb for rock gardens, with its low, tidy habit and its liking for good drainage and a little gravel in the soil. And for a lot of Southern gardeners, that bright yellow crocus-cup in the fall is the closest they’ll ever come to growing a true crocus in their garden.
Which is a fitting place for it to land. A plant a grower once traced back to ancient Babylon, still showing up out of bare ground every September, still surprising people — right here, in a Texas rock garden.
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