From my bulb's perspective, I require a distinct period of winter cold to initiate the crucial process of flower bud formation. This is not a preference; it is a biological imperative. If you live in a very warm climate (USDA zones 9-11) where winters are mild, you might provide me with ample water and sunlight, yet I will stubbornly refuse to bloom. My internal clock is waiting for that specific environmental signal—a sustained period of cool temperatures between 35-50°F (2-10°C). Without this chilling period, my flowering mechanism remains dormant, and you will be left with a pot of healthy but flowerless leaves.
My growth cycle is opposite of many garden plants. I flower in the fall, produce leaves through the winter and spring, and then need a dry, warm summer dormancy. This is when I am most vulnerable. If you water me heavily during the summer or I am planted in soggy, poorly draining soil, my bulb will quickly succumb to rot. The constant moisture creates an anaerobic environment that suffocates my roots and provides a perfect breeding ground for fungal and bacterial pathogens. To me, a waterlogged summer is a death sentence. I need to bake and rest, gathering energy for my spectacular autumn display.
You must understand my planting needs are specific. I am not a daffodil or a tulip. If you bury my bulb too deeply, the energy required for my flower stalk to fight its way through the soil is immense. This often results in the stalk failing to emerge entirely or the flowers aborting before they open. The top third to half of my neck and shoulders should be exposed to the sun and air. This allows me to feel the seasonal temperature changes more acutely and ensures my bloom stalk has a short, direct path to the surface. Planting me too deep is like placing a heavy blanket over me; it's stifling and prevents me from showing my true potential.
I do not enjoy being crowded. While I can form a large clump over time, there is a limit. When we bulbs become too congested, we are forced to compete fiercely for soil nutrients and moisture. This intense competition leads to smaller, weaker foliage and significantly reduced flowering. From my perspective, it feels like being in an overcrowded room with limited resources; we all become stunted. Furthermore, a dense clump creates poor air circulation around my base, increasing the humidity and risk of fungal diseases like red blotch, which manifests as unsightly red spots on my leaves and flower stalks.
