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by Kymberly Taylor
More than any other flower, I wait for the crocus to appear, for it is the very first harbinger of spring. I especially love how they pop right out at my feet like bright thoughts on a gray February morning. Crocuses are flowering perennials and part of the iris Iridaceae family. The name “crocus” itself comes from the ancient Greek word for saffron, krokos. They grow from glossy chestnut-like corms almost too pretty to bury. Today, there are approximately 100 species to choose from. They bloom not just in the late winter and early spring, but also in autumn. They’re hardy in zones 3 to 8, love sunshine, and are drought-tolerant. Perfect for Maryland weather.
I had no idea that this humble flower that rises three inches from the ground dates back to 1700 BC. During the Bronze Age, the crocus was a staple of the Minoan civilization in Crete. A certain species of crocus, C Sativus, was cultivated to produce saffron, which was used as a spice, dye, and in religious ceremonies. Sativus blooms only in autumn and, even in our modern times, must be harvested by hand at dawn when the purple flowers are fully open. The delicate red stigmas are carefully plucked from the flower and dried into precious threads.
Historians of the era have observed the distinct flowers and foliage of the crocus in frescoes in ancient Greek cities. The American School of Classical Studies describes a fresco in Akrotiri (c. 1700 BC) depicting the “Saffron Goddess” with crocuses on the wall behind her and flowers in the baskets of young girls gathering saffron.
There is much to love about this low-growing beauty. The flower stem remains underground, supporting large white, yellow, orange, or purple flowers. Their sensitive blossoms close at night and in overcast weather. After blooming, they disappear quietly, unlike tulips, which flop over and die back like expiring heroines.
Crocus bulbs are tiny, so they require very little digging, with no pesky roots to fight. Simply dig a 4″ hole, add a pinch of bone meal, and place the bulb pointy side up in clusters of three to five. A friend of mine snuck into her boyfriend’s front yard one night and planted purple crocus in the shape of a giant heart. If you’re feeling creative, experiment! Try smiley faces! No matter what you decide to do, plant a few before the ground freezes. Then, experience the special satisfaction that is the gardener’s true reward—gazing at the bare ground in winter, knowing what beauty lies beneath.
Interesting fact: The delicate red stigmas of the autumn crocus are carefully hand-plucked from the flower and dried into precious threads of saffron.
© Annapolis Home Magazine
Vol. 16, No. 6 2025