High summer has just passed. In the roadside ditches and hedgerows near my Central New York State summer cottage, the green milkweed pods are fattening up. In another month they will be brown and ready to split, dispersing their silk-clad seeds. Sulfur butterflies dance over Queen Anne’s lace, chicory, butter-and-eggs and early goldenrod. The air smells of ripeness.
Amid all this blowsy summer abundance, the orange turk’s cap lily—Lilium superbum—bursts onto the scene. This is not the tawny orange daylily—Hemerocallis fulva—that blooms just about everywhere around the Fourth of July. Despite similarities in coloration, the orange turk’s cap is a completely different animal and the species name “superbum” is particularly apt.
Native to eastern North America, the orange turk’s cap grows from a starchy, edible bulb. Unlike sun loving daylilies, turk’s caps lurk in slightly shadier places–along the edges of woodlands, wetland areas or country hedgerows. They sprout up tall, rising on sturdy stalks encircled by whorls of narrow, six inch-long leaves. By contrast, the tawny orange daylily blooms on naked stems that sprout from a base of long, strap-like foliage.
After reaching a height of six feet or more, turk’s caps produce nodding flowers at the tops of the stalks. Those flowers, of course, are what make the turk’s cap “superb”. Large, at three to four inches wide, they feature curled-back or reflexed petals that gave rise to the common name, “turk’s cap”. Each petal is liberally freckled with dark maroon spots and the throats are tinted green. If you cut off the pollen-bearing anthers, which stain hands and clothing, turk’s caps make wonderful, showy cut flowers.
We have a clump of turk’s caps on our summer property, standing proudly on a wooded embankment that overlooks a small gully. The clump gets no attention at all and has been there for years, slowly increasing. I know of another clump on the edge of a dense, wooded hedgerow about a mile away. Both stands of lilies are in locations that remain somewhat damp except in very dry years. Dampness is nirvana for turk’s caps, which are also sometimes called “swamp lilies”. Established clumps will also soldier on bravely during dry times.
The turk’s cap is quite perfect, unless, of course, you don’t care for orange flowers. The plants are best massed in odd-numbered groups in cottage or naturalistic planting schemes, where they will attract butterflies, pollinating insects and hummingbirds. If orange is not exactly your cup of tea, you can soften the effect by planting a grouping of turk’s caps near something blue, like large-leafed Hosta sieboldii, with its giant, blue-green leaves, or the steely blue-flowered globe thistle or echinops, which blooms at the same time. Use flowers and leaves of these same complementary plants for dramatic indoor arrangements.
The only problem for wild turk’s caps is habitat loss. Development, mowing of country roadsides and elimination of hedgerows tend to diminish the kinds of damp, undisturbed sites where the plants have traditionally flourished. If you see turk’s caps in the wild, don’t pick them. Take a picture instead.
If you are a purist or want to be economical, you can propagate turk’s cap lilies from bulb scales, which you can obtain by digging up bulbs in the early fall. Remove one or more of the large scales from the outside of the mature bulb and then replant the “mother” turk’s cap. Put the scales in a plastic bag of moist—not wet—peat moss and place in a dark location where you will not forget about them. Check frequently to make sure the peat remains damp. Eventually, the scales will form small bulbs, which can be potted up and grown to planting size, either outside in clement weather or in a cool greenhouse.
For those who want turk’s caps without that kind of effort, you can obtain large, blooming-size bulbs from Sunshine Farm and Gardens, HC 67, Box 539B, Renick, WV, 24966, (304)497.2208, www.sunfarm.com. No print catalog.