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Home » Gardening Information » Great Plants

Heirloom Bulbs—A Selection of Unique and Endangered Beauties

Plants & Gardens News Volume 17, Number 3 | Fall 2002

by Scott Kunst

It's not just in the rainforest that we're losing valuable plants to extinction. Every year, scores of unique garden plants slip through our fingers, forever. Ten years ago I made it my business—literally—to help save a bit of our vanishing garden heritage: antique flower bulbs. Here's why I think these plants are important—and wonderful—and here's what you can do to help save them.

Antique bulbs are as much a part of our cultural identity as colonial houses, pioneer quilts, Victorian rockers, and 1950s Chevrolets. They connect us with our roots, add diversity to our lives, and offer us glimpses of excitingly different worlds, values, and visions of beauty.

They're great garden plants, too. Heirloom bulbs are time-tested, winnowed by the years—sometimes centuries—and those that have survived are generally tough and unusual. Many are fragrant or have a wildflowery grace. Many have special colors, forms, or qualities that haven't been matched by more recent introductions. And many are so well adapted to challenging environments that they survive and bloom happily in abandoned gardens—as the colonial-era Byzantine gladiolus does throughout the South—though they have completely disappeared from modern, mainstream sources.

Heirlooms are also genetically unique. If we hope to breed a broad array of flowers for future needs and diverse individual tastes, we can't afford to squander the rich genetic inheritance of heirlooms. Wouldn't it be great, for example, to have a race of hyacinths that multiply eagerly and don't dwindle away after a few years as most modern hybrids do? The genes for that quality exist in at least one antique variety that I've collected from an old garden here in Ann Arbor where it jam-packed a bed a foot wide and 30 feet long and was tucked into other beds throughout the yard. We could breed hyacinths for the future that are vigorous, multiplying, and long-lived perennials, but only if we preserve the genes of this one nameless relic.

And like that relic, most heirloom bulbs are endangered. Many that are still mainstream are being offered by fewer and fewer sources, their acreage in the Netherlands dwindling every year. Others have gone "commercially extinct" in the Netherlands, the heart of world bulb culture. This means that the last farmer there has quit growing them. And though the bulbs may survive in the collections of specialists, or in the fields of a few small growers in the United States, England, and elsewhere, their fate is in many ways equivalent to that of California condors in captive breeding programs: They are hanging on by a thread.

The best way to save these bulbs is to get more gardeners growing them. It's not hard. They take no more care than modern bulbs—preferring good sun and well-drained soil—and they usually do fine with less! So let me see if I can talk you into trying at least one of my favorite living antiques.

Gladiolus byzantinus (Byzantine gladiolus)

This is not your ordinary gladiolus! With small, vibrant magenta flowers, it's a wild perennial glad that has been grown in America since colonial days. Increasing year after year into ever more handsome clumps, it is, as Bill Welch and Greg Grant write in The Southern Heirloom Garden, "a delightful plant often found in old cottage gardens in the South." It's a star in Christopher Lloyd's fabled Sussex garden and hardy north through USDA Zone 6. But watch out for counterfeits. Ninety-nine percent of U.S. bulb catalogs offering Byzantine glads—often at very attractive prices—actually deliver instead the less-impressive and less-vigorous Gladiolus italicus or some other Dutch-grown substitute. If you want the real thing, ask your source, "Are the bulbs grown here in America, or do you import them from the Netherlands?" If they are Dutch-grown, or cheap, you can be pretty sure they are not the true Byzantine glad. Unfortunately, unannounced substitutions like this are widespread in the bulb trade, so—as with shopping for any kind of antique—let the buyer beware.

Tulipa 'Prince of Austria' (Tulip)

This is the tulip that inspired me to launch my heirloom bulb catalog, Old House Gardens, in 1993. When the last U.S. source dropped it, I knew I had to do something. It was just too extraordinary to let go extinct. It's the most fragrant tulip ever, and on a sunny day it will draw you across the garden. What's more, it's so vigorous that in my garden—rather than disappearing as so many modern tulips do—it has been returning and reblooming for over a decade now with no special care.

Introduced way back during the Civil War, 'Prince of Austria' is a warm scarlet that matures to almost orange—a color that may have worked against its preservation. Gardeners who do no more than glance at a catalog photograph will probably dismiss it as just another red tulip. But those who grow it will see why I'm so excited about it.

Narcissus 'Mrs. R.O. Backhouse' (Daffodil)

The first pink daffodil, 'Mrs. R.O. Backhouse' was a huge color advance for 1921 and became one of the landmark bulbs of the 20th century. I'd say that's reason enough to save her, because no history of daffodils could be written without her. But she's also gorgeous. Her informal petals form a trumpet that's more truly ivory and apricot than pink, but so beautiful—a veritable sunrise for those who watch closely—that no one complains. Yes, truer pinks have been introduced since 1921, but none are lovelier in the garden than 'Mrs. R.O. Backhouse'. She's becoming scarce in commerce, so beware of counterfeits.

Hyacinthus 'Grand Monarque' (Hyacinth)

Commercially extinct in the Netherlands, this 1860s gem has been preserved by our friend Alan Shipp, holder of the British National Collection of Hyacinths. It's a surprisingly true light blue that may remind you of soft spring skies. And like all hyacinths, it is wonderfully fragrant.

Today, hyacinths are the most endangered of all the major spring bulbs, but back when 'Grand Monarque' was introduced they were the most popular. D.M. Ferry of Detroit, for example, listed 135 hyacinths in his 1886 catalog, twice the number of tulips he offered and ten times the number of daffodils. Today, even major catalogs rarely offer more than a handful. I'm convinced that the tide is beginning to turn for hyacinths, though, and that soon many more gardeners will be enjoying their quaint charm, Easter-egg colors, and lush fragrance. But until that happens, I worry: How many more will we lose?

Lilium 'Black Beauty' (Lily)

"Indestructible" would be a good name for this great lily, and it's hard to imagine anyone not liking it. It's stunning—a stately five to eight feet tall with 15 to 40 turk's-cap flowers of dark raspberry narrowly edged in silver. But it's even more prized for its wonderful vigor and long life in all sorts of gardens. It's the first North American Lily Society Hall of Fame lily, and simply one of the 20th century's best. Though a relatively young 45 years old, it's already disappearing from mainstream sources.

Dahlia 'Jersey Beauty' (Dahlia)

Introduced from New Jersey in 1923, this glorious true pink was the most celebrated dahlia of the 20th century. Like Babe Ruth, it was miles ahead of its peers, became a popular sensation, and dominated for decades. Six to seven feet tall, it brings great energy to the late-summer and fall garden. When everything else is winding down, it's erupting into a glorious crescendo and giving you more blossoms than you can find vases for. In recognition of its importance, excellence, and rarity, Old House Gardens has named it our 2003 Endangered Spring Bulb of the Year.

First domesticated by the Aztecs, dahlias arrived in European and North American gardens in the 1800s and soon rivaled the rose for popular affection. Sadly, of the estimated 10,000 distinct cultivars introduced through the 1800s, so far we've discovered just three that survive today. What a loss! The good news is that we have built up enough stock to offer all three in our catalog this year, giving more gardeners a chance to help save them.

Canna 'Madame Paul Caseneuve' (Canna)

Like many plants from the past, 'Madame Caseneuve' is different. She's not a brash, flamboyant, stereotypical canna but rather a subtle, elegant, almost ethereal beauty. Her dusky, bronze-purple leaves are the perfect foil for her trim pink and apricot blossoms. Imagine a Tahitian sunrise in your own backyard! We reintroduced this 1902 treasure a few years ago from France, where it is still widely grown. In its own small way, that's something like reintroducing wolves into Yellowstone Park. The more places heirlooms are grown, the better their chances for survival.

Gladiolus 'Atom' (Gladiolus)

This 1946 classic is a gladiolus for people who would never grow glads, and every year more and more gardeners are discovering its charms. Well named, it's small all over, just three to four feet tall, with florets about half the size of most glads. So it's easy to integrate into perennial borders, just as heirloom irises often blend in better than the gigantic modern ones. It won't get lost, though, because it's a blazing scarlet cooled by a silvery picotee edging—perfect for, say, the red borders at England's Hidcote Manor Garden. And one spike in a bud vase will make an exquisite display for a week or more.

So are you ready to try an antique bulb? The only way to save these heirloom treasures is to grow them, and every gardener can make a difference. I invite you—I urge you—to touch the past, enrich your garden, and help save an irreplaceable inheritance.

Nursery Sources:

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