Today I was given a fantastic gift from an equally fantastic friend, Richard. It so made my day, my week, maybe even my year. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and happiness. The gift was a small paper packet of Fritillaria meleagris bulbs.
Many months ago, he asked me about their availability and any knowledge I knew about them. He had a large metal sculpture whose subject was the plant and flower of the Fritillaria and sought to grow the genuine thing. I explained to him that my experience with them was mighty brief but very memorable.
A good decade ago, on display in front of a local homewares shop, the owner being an avid gardener, I bought a small pot of the bulb in flower which I was not at all familiar with. They were mesmerizing and truly exquisite. They were fritillarias. It was love at first sight.
The flowers were so beautifully enchanting and unique that I carried their pots around with me, from room to room, from house to garden and back again for countless days, never wanting to be departed from them at any moment. At the end of the day, I would carefully place them on my bedside table, so the very first thing I would see upon waking were the arresting beauty of the flowering fritillarias.
Sometime after, stupidly, in a frenetic garden clean up I inadvertently hurled the dormant potted bulbs away into the garden, thinking there were only common dead annuals. The bulbs didn’t like it, not one bit. They never reappeared. Lost forever. Idiot me, big time. Dumb, dumb, stupid me.
Ever since, I have been relentlessly searching for some fritillaria replacements. I have never had any luck in sourcing them, in nurseries or online. No matter what time of the year, the bulbs were always either not presently in stock, or not yet available but will be in the immediate near future. And then as quick as you can blink an eye, my endless enquiries were always finally met with the depressing story, sorry they are all sold out. Try again next year. That is until today. Richard had remembered my fritillaria story and this is why his gift was so extraordinarily special.
Why are the flowers so drop dead gorgeous and so exquisitely unique?
Fritillaria meleagris have the shape of square-shouldered pendulous bells clothed with the most spectacular chequerboard pattern in subtle shades of purple, yellow and white on thin tall stems of about 20cm. Their common name is snake head lily because the curiously marked petals are painted, not unlike the skins of certain reptiles. They are many cultivars and are native to Europe, from Great Britain to Norway and all of Northern central Europe.
They flower in early spring. You can cultivate them in the garden under deciduous trees where they receive dappled shade. Accompanied in a drift with blue or white Grape Hyacinths or blue Forget-Me-Nots, their combined beauty is truly divine.
However, because they are so small and special I grow them in pots. Please ensure you mark the pots with their name, big and bold, so when they are asleep and resting, you don’t forget their existence and accidentally throw them out like a total ninny I know.
So please start your own quest for the search for the elusive bulbs of the great fritillarias. I sincerely hope the length of your search will far shorter than mine or possibly a fantastic friend of your own will appear bearing gifts.
Good luck, happy gardening and have fun,
Ned McDowell.