Trillium gradiflorum 'Floro plenum' in full bloom in my garden. Every nodding flower is like a perfect miniature camellia - or not quite, somehow these feel a bit more sensitive...
I'm madly in love. With a White Wake-robin that grows in my garden. And there is nothing to do about it. And I swear I won't leave this place, ever, without it (not that I am moving anywhere for the moment, but so that you know, just in case...).
I've been kneeling besides my camellia-flowering Trillium grandiflorum 'Floro plenum', gazing into its pearly white, nodding flowers. It seems fully aware of its preciousness and quite reluctant have its portrait taken. Of course, my gorgeous Wake-robin was another invaluable gift from Marian, one of the few gardeners who had such priceless rarities growing around in her garden just like other people have tulips and daffodils.
Briefly, I wondered how I can ever thank her enough for all the treasures I have got, but I guess I do: I love and take care of every single one of them, with passion. And what more can you ask for when you have to leave your babies behind?
Almost everything in a Trillium - petals, sepals and leafs - grow in clusters of three, even if in the double forms this can be a bit difficult to see.
The double forms of Trillium gradiflorum are mutations, where all the reproductive organs have mutated to petals. These forms often possess a great beauty, and are highly sought after by gardeners and collectors. most double forms are sterile and must be propagated by slow, asexual division. Thus, if available at all, they command very high prices - a couple of days ago, Carol Klein called it "a holy grail for plant collectors" in the Guardian. Horticulturally, these forms have been given name 'floro plenum' or "multiplex', meaning "many petaled", which is not a correct latin name, but is used for convenience in trade.
"Trilliums", by Frederick W. Case, Jr, and Roberta B. Case, by Timber Press in Oregon, is an excellent book about this plant genus.