In 2014, a professor encouraged me to submit a scholarship application to attend the annual meeting of the Southern Garden History Society (SGHS), in Savannah, Georgia. Admittedly, my first reaction was, “No.” Naturally an introverted and shy person, the prospect of joining several hundred strangers for a weekend was daunting. However, upon further research into the Society and the annual meeting, the compatibility and overlap of my interests and the Society’s was undeniable. Submission of my application, therefore, became unavoidable.
After that meeting, it was clear I found my people. Though we only see each other once or twice a year, many of my fellow SGHS members are people I appreciate, admire, and adore most. The shared love of history, landscapes, gardens, and plants binds us together. Each of our individual connections is a thread and the collective threads of our Society create a web across the southeast and beyond.
In December of 2024, an email from Peggy Cornett would reveal threads connecting me to members across time, to people I was not fortunate enough to have ever met. Peggy’s email was about a series of articles in Magnolia about Roman hyacinths from the early 1990s. These pieces were part of “The Plant Report” series written by SGHS founding member Flora Ann Bynum.
Roman hyacinths (Hyacinthus orientalis albulus), like many of the other demure heirloom plants, hold particular interest for me. This fascination can be traced back to playing in my grandmother’s garden. As a teenager, the threat of losing these plants when my grandmother’s property was sold brought clarity to my budding intrigue with plants, and especially the little bulbous plants of my childhood. As with anything, once you personally give attention and energy to something your appreciation deepens. Transplanting these plants set me on the course to preserve and learn more about them.
It is this casual intrigue that ultimately led me to research and write a thesis around the topic of preservation of heirloom bulbous plants. During this time of research I poured through old nursery catalogs, read the classic Southern garden texts (notably Elizabeth Lawrence), and read many of the contemporary works of SGHS members I would eventually meet. It was during this time, the winter of 2014, that I was introduced to the Roman hyacinth, and my curiosity to see them in bloom was born. Plant hunters know it only takes an intention, curiosity, and a keen eye, and eventually you will find what you seek.
Bethlehem, Georgia, is a small town known for its Christmas-themed postal stamp at the post office that Georgians pilgrimage to each December on a quest to adorn their envelopes. It is beside this old post office that an abandoned and decaying house hides in the overgrown trees. While in the area one winter, I set out to see what, if any, plants persisted under the deep shade cast by the water oaks (Quercus nigra). I knew there were daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus), one of the toughest heirlooms, but had little hope there would be much else due to the deep shade and aggressively thirsty water oak roots that allow few other plants to grow.
Approaching the house, at the pathway to the front door, something blue caught my eye at the rock retaining wall delineating the driveway from the yard. At the base of the rock wall, there persisted two flowering blue Roman hyacinths. The exhilaration I experienced was a little embarrassing and thankfully I was alone. This memory is the first thing that came to mind upon reading Peggy’s email this past December.
I would like to encourage you to read or revisit “The Plant Reporter: Searching for Pink Roman Hyacinths” from the Summer 1990 issue of Magnolia. Encountering the pink hyacinth at a farmers market starts Flora Ann’s journey to find them and learn more about them. The article delves into their history and her search for commercial sources to find them. She calls upon her SGHS contacts to determine where the pink form, as well as the white and blue forms, persisted across the South at the time.
Additionally, just as happens today, a conversation between two people—Flora Ann Bynum and Bill Welch, at an annual meeting—quickly draws in other people, and the web of intrigue grows. Flora Ann’s writing reveals the threads that connect us all, whether we know it or not, across geography and time. They are what make us a society and not just an association, a fact that past president Randy Harelson would often proudly laud.
I hope this article will increase your interest and appreciation for Roman hyacinths. Read the original article using this link 1990;VII.1:9. In future installments, we will revisit more of the story from “The Plant Reporter.” Keep a keen eye this spring. We will be calling upon you to share your observations and pictures.
Sketch by Caroline Dorman in Gardens in Winter by Elizabeth Lawrence
Photos courtesy Adam Martin
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