Photo courtesy of Jenks Farmer III.
Fazendeville, Louisiana—a historic community built by enslaved people who were then freed after the Civil War. The remnants of the community were ultimately destroyed, but the crinum lilies and irises its residents planted survived.
Deep in my backyard, behind the soaring cypress trees, lives a corner that unfailingly floods with every sudden downpour. From its depths spring out long, thin, deep green leaves, a bushy clump of foliage that has set up permanent camp in its sunken home. In early spring, the clump rewards us with a colorful show of nearly four-foot-tall stalks shooting skyward, adorned with trumpet-like pink-striped flowers that seemingly last for an eternity.
These are the crinum lilies, an heirloom plant often traded among gardeners (ours came from a friend in Lafitte), yet rarely seen amidst the common stock at plant stores. Hardy, heat-loving plants, they thrive in the Southern states, and yet their popularity has waned since the days of our grandparents. That is, until recently.
“Crinums were once popular in the South, but when I came along, they were virtually forgotten about. You could hardly find them,” said Augustus Jenkins (Jenks) Farmer III, a South Carolina horticulturist, garden designer, and self-proclaimed plantsman. “A renaissance has happened over the last thirty years.”
Author of the book, Crinum: Unearthing the History and Cultivation of the World’s Biggest Bulb, Farmer has embarked on a mission to popularize the oft-overlooked lilies. Over the years, he’s incorporated the flowers into prominent locations in his garden designs, including at the Riverbanks Botanical Garden in West Columbia, South Carolina. Today, through his online store, he sells crinums to home gardeners, helping bring the colorful plants into micro-paradises across the region.
Crinums have an interesting history, broken into two halves of an intertwining story—the well-documented European lineage and the all-but-forgotten African heritage. Farmer describes how the Victorians were avid collectors, bringing plants from all over the world back to England. Crinums, however, didn’t initially perform well in the British climate.
Courtesy of Jennks Farmer.
Augustus Jenkins (Jenks) Farmer III, a South Carolina horticulturist, garden designer, and self-proclaimed plantsman who specializes in crinums.
“The lead gardener at Highclere Castle (best known for serving as the setting of the fictional Downton Abbey) was the first recorded in English history to hybridize them,” said Farmer, who researched the account of Mr. Digweed and his hothouse experiments at Highclere. By combining a South Carolina native crinum with an African crinum, Digweed created the “Red Flare,” or Crinum x digweedii, a hardy runner with white flowers striped with deep red slashes. “It was very controversial at the time, and even Darwin wrote about it. It was said he was doing God’s work.” Nevertheless, the hybrids thrived in England and eventually were sent to the British colonies, particularly India. From there, they made their way to the Caribbean and the United States.
“Crinums were once popular in the South, but when I came along, they were virtually forgotten about. You could hardly find them. A renaissance has happened over the last thirty years.” —Augustus Jenkins (Jenks) Farmer III
Meanwhile, unknown varieties of crinums found growing today at historic homesites, cemeteries, or even ditches across the South allude to a very different story. In 2022, crinums and irises discovered at the Chalmette Battlefield in St. Bernard were thought to mark the location of Fazendeville, a historic community of freed slaves. The remnants of Fazendeville were destroyed more than half a century ago with the expansion of the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park and Preserve, but the lilies and irises survived.
“There is a whole other history that is yet to be discovered about how crinums traveled with Africans,” said Farmer. “They were very important medicinally and spiritually to Africans and grew in parts of Africa where slaves were captured.” Though difficult, if not impossible, to definitively prove today—evidence suggests that the flowers likely traveled to the Americas by way of the transatlantic slave trade. “But their histories are lost,” said Farmer. “It’s important to recognize, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but also if you go out hunting for crinums, you can’t properly identify them.”
Courtesy of Jenks Farmer.
Crinums in a simple indoor arrangement
When a crinum is found and not matched to an existing variety, the person who locates it gets to name it. Often, they are labeled by their locations, such as the case with the tall, light pink, blooming “Pecan Tree Inn”; or “Regina’s Disco Lounge,” a specimen of massive bulbs that Farmer discovered at an establishment by the same name in Allendale, South Carolina. Breeders who develop their own hybrids also get naming rights, sometimes immortalizing a loved one. The Floridian Louis Bosanquet called his fragrant, rose-colored crinum “Ellen Bosanquet,” after his wife. Farmer’s own color-changing hybrid, “Aurora Glorialis,” honors his mother, Gloria.
One of Farmer’s favorites is the four-foot-tall “Cecil Houdyshel,” which flowers continuously from spring to fall. This showy cultivar tells the story of a California horticulturist. “Cecil loved his wife,” said Farmer. “When she died, he cultivated his bulbs in isolation until the kids from the orphanage came to see them. Then the rest of his life, he worked with the orphans.”
New breeders have shifted tactics, instead choosing more typical flower titles such as “Pink Flamingo” or “Spring Joy.” Farmer’s online store sells about twenty varieties at a time, although he carries around eighty in his private collection. “I’m constantly trying and discarding,” he explained. “I grow them, see if they stand up, and make sure they don’t flop over. I’ll only sell the best ones.”
For gardeners newly discovering the wonders of crinums, Farmer asks them three questions: when do you want it to flower, how much space do you have, and what color do you like? The answers, dictated by vacation timelines, yard sizes, and the ageless fondness for that favorite shade, create widely different results.
“It can bloom late February to the end of July, but if you plan on leaving all summer, you want it to flower in the spring,” said Farmer. “And it used to be everyone wanted large crinums, like Lolita. It’s one of my favorites, as it gets six feet tall, but with modern gardens there is not as much room. For color, you can choose pure white to really deep, rich purply reds, but you’ll mostly find whites and rich pinks.”
Photo by Paul Christiansen
Fazendeville, Louisiana—a historic community built by enslaved people who were then freed after the Civil War. The remnants of the community were ultimately destroyed, but the crinum lilies and irises its residents planted survived.
As for tips on where to plant them, Farmer recommends going for full sun to light shade, such as the dappled shade offered by a pine tree. Crinums are a go-to plant for a yard’s problem area, like my flood-friendly backyard corner. In warmer climates, such as in South Louisiana, the lilies should be cut down to around six inches when they start looking unruly, usually around August. The glossy green new foliage will return by October.
To enjoy the lilies' sweet fragrance, Farmer suggests cutting a single flower and putting it by your bed at night. The next morning, the entire room will be filled with its scent.
Visit jenksfarmer.com to pick an assortment of crinum lilies to beautify your own garden. Be sure to also check out Farmer’s newest book, Secrets of Southern Gardening, written specifically for gardeners in the coastal South, or sign up for his Substack newsletter, “Plant People.”
