Barnardia japonica, autumn squill
“The season of squills need not end with spring...”
Elizabeth Lawrence, The Little Bulbs
Rarely do I refer to any flowering plant as a delicate workhorse, but Barnardia japonica, commonly known as autumn squill, deserves that association full-stop. Native to rocky areas of China and Japan, this highly adaptable little bulb thrives in full sun to part shade, asking only for decent drainage and a bit of moisture during the growing season. (That said, before I knew better, I planted it in unamended red clay in my own garden, and it still blooms happily, although has been slow to increase.) In Elizabeth Lawrence’s garden—nearly every bulb’s Eden—it grows as happily on a rock wall as it does edging a partly shaded border, and blooms beautifully from mid-August into September.
2022 saw autumn squill blooming early; this video was taken on August 4th.
Identity crisis abounds with this sweet little bulb. I first became acquainted with it as Scilla scilloides. Inspired by its odd bloom time, and in an attempt to remember its specific epithet, I called it “silly scilla”. I’ve since learned that it goes by many different names. Previously accepted monikers include (take a big breath here) Ornithogalum japonicum Thunb.; Barnardia scilloides Lindl.; Barnardia sinensis (Lour.) Speta; Scilla chinensis Benth., nom. illeg.; Scilla japonica Baker, nom. illeg.; Scilla sinensis (Lour.) Merr; and Scilla scilloides (Lindl.) Druce. Common names of autumn squill, Chinese scilla and Chinese squill are… well, common. But don’t let all this nomenclatural confusion deter you from seeking it out.
Autumn squill is an interesting bulb for many reasons, but one thing about it that I never clued into until reading Pacific Bulb Society’s Barnardia webpage: “This species is unusual as it has two flushes of leaves, one in the spring and another in the fall. [Foliage] is dormant in the summer and then produces linear leaves followed by small starry pink or blue flowers in the fall.” … A-ha!… It was then that I remembered my surprise at seeing the concave maroon-tinged, dark olive green blades emerging from the ground in early March.
First foliar emergence occurs in early spring, as seen here on March 6, 2020.
The second foliar emergence (late July to early August in Charlotte, NC) tells me that blooms aren’t far behind. Reminiscent of pink Liriope muscari flowers, but daintier and more elegant, Barnardia japonica’s blooms are honeybee magnets. Upright stems 6-12” tall boast tiny pink stars that open in succession from bottom to top. The overall effect is inviting and quite lovely, and definitely best en masse. Luckily, that last part can happen within a few years if you treat it right. When provided with decent conditions, autumn squill reseeds well, which makes it a good “naturalizer”... but by no means is it weedy. (But don’t ask Lindie Wilson about that; in her amazing garden it grows only too well!) Expect seedlings to bloom in their third or fourth year. I find the best increase is by division; small bulb offsets usually bloom their second year. Divide any time during the growing season, but keep divisions consistently moist until they’re established.
Delicate pink blooms open from bottom to top.
Barnardia japonica, hardy in zones 4-9, deserves to be more widely known and grown. This small bulb gives so much without asking much of anything in return. It provides the perfect unexpected late summer breath of fresh air... at a time of year that is the polar opposite of when one would expect to see such a cheerful little thing.
No matter the botanical nom du jour, you need some autumn squill in your life. As plant-collector-extraordinaire Hayes Jackson says, “Don’t be dumb, git you some!”
Autumn squill is a honeybee’s late summer delight!