by Elizabeth Spence
Crocuses are so cheerful. They are one of the first flowers to appear in the spring to brighten our lives and welcome us to a new season in our gardens and in our lives. No wonder they are often considered a symbol of spiritual awakening.
Just look at this wonderful painting that Cathy Dalton, one of our featured artists, did just for us:
Easy to grow, very hardy (zone 3) and so versatile – you just simply plant the corms (proper name for the bulbs) 4″ deep and 3″ to 4″ apart, and they do the rest.
The only real problem is that around here the deer are likely to eat them. Just a warning —
Here are some of George’s photos of the crocus:
You might think that all crocuses are basically the same. But no, not so!
We know they come in different colours and different sizes; there are some that bloom in the spring and some that bloom in the fall or autumn. In fact, there are about 100 different species.
We even have two flowers called crocus that aren’t crocuses at all, including one important Canadian flower! They are all lovely, all a delight to see.
But do beware – they will kill you if you’re not careful!
Crocuses were first brought into Europe from Greece and the Middle East by the Romans in the first century AD. The Crusaders in the Middle Ages also brought them back to the West. Here is a picture of one from a book of about 1300, shortly after the end of the Crusades:
They then travelled to North America with the settlers.
One of the earliest known references to a crocus is an illustration on a cup dating from the Greek Bronze Age (1925-1875 BC).
Here’s an even older representation of a woman in Greece picking crocus on a hillside. This dates from about 3000 BC:
Indeed, the crocus itself is named after a character in Greek mythology. The young man, Crocus, or Krokos in Greek, was one of the so-called “flower-heroes” that appear so often in these old stories. We have already seen Prometheus in our article on Petrichor and Amaryllis the beautiful Greek maiden who appears in our article on the amaryllis flower.
There are several myths about Crocus. Here’s one of them:
Crocus fell in love with a beautiful nymph called Smilax. It was mutual. Then, as these things go, Smilax died, and Crocus was so overcome with grief, he ended his life, his blood falling to the earth.
A god, moved by all of this, transformed Crocus’s body into the flower we now know by his name – or the flower sprang from his fallen blood – depending on which version you read. Smilax was also transformed into a plant which bears her name.
The crocus became a symbol of lasting love, and the smilax, now commonly known as sarsaparilla or rough bindweed, a symbol of beauty.
Interestingly, and probably co-incidentally, the plants crocus and smilax are now classified under the botanical order of lilies, and the lily is the symbol for love, purity and rebirth. Quite appropriate really.
The Saffron Crocus
The crocus referred to in these myths and in early writings is not the common crocus, or spring crocus we generally grow today. It is the Saffron Crocus, Crocus sativa (cultivated), which flowers in the autumn, and from which we get that excruciatingly expensive spice, saffron, sometimes called “red gold.”
The spice is in fact the bright red stigmas (threads) of this crocus which are so prized for their color and flavour in the kitchen and for dyeing. Medieval scribes sometimes used saffron instead of gold leaf in their religious art. Women used it for dyeing their hair.
The stigma in a flower is the sticky bit atop the style that catches the pollen, and when the two meet in most flowers, the fertilization process begin. Some sites mistakenly call the stigmas “stamens,” but those are actually the smaller yellow bits:
If the stigmas are removed, a plant generally cannot reproduce by seed. But saffron crocuses are sterile (triploid with 24 chromosomes) and cannot be bred this way, so you don’t have to feel guilty about removing the stigmas. There are some sites that sell Crocus sativa seeds. It’s a scam.
They reproduce by developing new corms and delightfully-named little off-shoots called “cormels.” This is why they are great for naturalizing.
We are told it takes about 70,000 saffron crocus flowers to produce just one pound of saffron threads which have to be picked off by hand. This is why it’s so expensive.
You can, of course, grow your own – you plant them in the late summer to bloom in the fall of the following year.
Unlike the common and garden crocus we all know which is hardy to zone 3, saffron crocus are more tender – generally considered hardy to our zone 6 (US zone 5 – see our article on zoning).
In their catalogue Vesey’s say that they are hardy to zone 4. I wrote and asked them if this was correct and they told me in no uncertain terms that it was. Make of that what you will.
I found a wealth of information about saffron crocuses on the website of Coastal Grove Farm south of Shelbourne, Nova Scotia who, as far as I know, are the only commercial saffron growers in the province.
They write:
“Growing saffron in Canada was impossible just 10 years ago.
The changes to the environment have made south-western Nova Scotia’s climate favourable to cultivating saffron – in the presence of the right building blocks.”
So, there we have it: saffron crocus grows well these days in southern Nova Scotia, but does it grow at all in our northern zone 5?
Yes, it does! I know, because I grew some successfully in a warm position (microclimate about zone 6b) in my previous garden! I winter-mulched them with about a foot of leaves held down by evergreen boughs. Unfortunately, I lost interest in them after a couple of years and they disappeared.
Here is another wonderful saffron site – in Quebec – that will give you all sorts of ideas if you want to grow and even sell your own. https://www.pursafran.com/en/
Autumn Crocus
The saffron crocus is also known as the “autumn crocus,” because that’s when it blooms. However – there is another plant that is also called “autumn crocus” that is not a crocus at all. It just looks rather like one. Trouble is, this second one is very nasty – even nastier than all the others.
It’s the Colchicum autumnale, first mentioned in an Egyptian medical text dating back to 1500 BC. It is in the same botanical order (lilies) as the saffron crocus, but a different family altogether. Since 2009 it has been classified as part of the Colchicaceae family. (Botanists are always fiddling with plant classifications).
Other names for the colchicum are “meadow saffron” which is a bit confusing, and “naked ladies” since the leaves die back before the flowers show.
Although colchicine, a medicine for gout, is derived from the corm and seeds of the colchicum, the plant overall is highly toxic. Indeed, all crocuses are toxic to some degree (saffron threads obviously aren’t – at least in small amounts).
It definitely pays to know the difference between the two autumn-flowering “crocuses” so you don’t accidentally poison yourself.
Apart from the fact that the colchicum leaves die back before the flowers appear and in the saffron crocus they stay to the bitter end, there are other ways of telling them apart.
SAFFRON CROCUS
COLCHICUM
Prairie Crocus
If you’re from the Prairies, then you’ll definitely know this one. It’s the provincial flower of Manitoba, chosen by the Manitoba Horticultural Society in 1906, and it grows just about everywhere on the prairies.
Although it does look rather like a crocus it’s not related at all. It is part of the botanical “tribe” of anemones and is sometimes even called meadow anemone.
Officially it’s Pulsatilla nuttalliana. Just by looking at it you can tell it’s a cousin of the Pulsatilla vulgaris – the familiar pasque or Easter flower with its fluffy seedheads we often grow in our gardens.
When the prairie crocuses appear, they are supposed to signal the coming of spring, just as their unrelated counterparts do. The First Peoples called them “ears of the earth” since they imagined them thrusting up through the snow to listen for the first sounds of spring.
The First Nations knew how to use them topically to treat such conditions as rheumatism and muscular aches and pains. They also knew it would poison them if they ate it.
There is a lovely Blackfoot myth about how the plant got its furry coat.
A brave young warrior called Wapee went on a vision quest. He became very lonely and was was befriended by a prairie crocus. All prairie crocus at that time were smooth and had white blossoms. To repay the flower’s kindness, Wapee protected the flower from the cold each night with his fur robe. After three nights, Wapee addressed the little flower:
“Little brother”, he said, “three nights you have comforted me in my loneliness and brought me visions. Tell me now three of your wishes that I may ask the Great Spirit to grant them to you.”
The flower, nodding, answered. “Pray that I may have the purple blue of the distant mountains in my petals, that men may seek my company and be rested. Second let me have a small golden sun to hold close to my heart, to cheer me on dull days when the sun god is hidden. Last, let me have a warm coat, like your robe of fur, that I may face the cold winds that blow from the melting snow and bring men comfort and hope of warmer winds to follow.”
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In another Blackfoot story, the seed heads of the prairie crocus are called “napi” meaning “old man.”
Napi was also the creator of the wind. I noted above that the pulsatillas belong to the botanical “tribe” of anemones. The ancient Greek word “anemone” means “daughter of the wind,” and that’s why we sometimes call anemones “windflowers.”
In the old Greek myth Anemone was (of course) a beautiful nymph who was in love with a wind god, Zephyr. He eventually lost interest in her and his wife turned her into the flower.
Another god of the wind, Boreas, fell in love with her in her flower form, but she wasn’t interested – she was cured of love. In revenge he still angrily blows open her petals every spring, quickly causing them to fade.
I’m always astounded how myths from such diverse traditions are sometimes so similar, even, as in this case, when the flowers are not exactly the same ones.
Spring Crocus
This is the crocus that we all know and love. We have it in pots, in our lawns and in our flower beds. They are spring!
Some of the other names are: species crocus, botanical crocus, wild crocus, early crocus, and Dutch crocus (these Dutch ones are a bit bigger than the others).
The first spring crocuses in the West came from southern Europe and the Middle East in the 1500s, first appearing in the Netherlands. They were all called the “Turkey crocus,” because that’s where a lot of them came from. One of the earliest recorded varieties was called “Cloth of Gold” (1587). Here’s an 18th century illustration of it from The Botanical Magazine by William Curtis, dated 1790:
And here’s a modern one. Some places will sell others with this name, so you need to be on your guard. As far as I can tell, they’re not available in Canada. Pity.
There are many species, cultivars and hybrids available now, so there’s lots of variety. These are the most common ones:
Crocus vernus (“vernus” means “spring” in Latin);
Crocus tommasinianus, sometimes called “Tommies”. These are supposed to be squirrel-resistant.
Crocus chrysanthus, or snow crocus. These are a bit smaller than some of the others, but they are great for planting in lawns, and come in many colours. Ones like “Cream Beauty” and Blue Pearl” have a lovely fragrance as well.
Although the crocus might seem like a humble little flower, it brings us such joy at the end of those snowy, dreary winter months. The only problem I have is that the deer around here really do like them, even though the flowers are supposed to be deer-resistant. But then – you can’t have everything, can you?
To make up for that, as I was researching this article, I happened upon one of the most beautiful, heart-wrenching poems about the crocus by Scottish poet Marion McCready.
It’s called “Look to the Crocus” and it is in our Garden Musings section HERE.
I contacted Marion, and she gave us permission to publish it on the site. Please take a look.
It is so amazing to meet wonderful people from all over the world through our little website here!
Copyright©2025 Elizabeth Spence
April 2025
