From “Spanish Bluebells” in Garden Bulbs for the South by Scott Ogden:
“The flower that comes to mind for most Southerners when squill is mentioned is the Spanish bluebell or wood hyacinth. Although long known in garden literature as Scilla campanulata, botanists have shuffled these poor flowers about, first to the genus Endymion, and more recently to an uncomfortable resting place with the alliterative appellation Hyacinthoides hispanica.
“None of these names do justice to the stately spikes of wisteria-blue that blossom in April gardens. The unscented, bell-shaped flowers of the Spanish bluebell hang down from twelve- to sixteen-inch stalks. Their thrifty bulbs seed and multiply in lavish pools, which spread out under the trees. This old Southern favorite is one of the finest spring bulbs for naturalizing in woodland, and will even succeed in the dark shade under live oaks. The round, white bulbs are happy anywhere they receive ample spring moisture. They have been popular since Elizabethan times and came to the South with the earliest settlers.
“In addition to the common sky-blue strain of the species, there are several fine selections of Spanish bluebells with darker violet, pink, or white flowers. Nurseries sometimes offer these in a mix, but such combinations are best avoided or quickly separated following bloom, as the various colors combine in a gaudy pattern. Although beautiful, the related English bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta) needs cooler, damper conditions than the South can provide.”
From “Spring Comes in February” in A Southern Garden: A Handbook for the Middle South by Elizabeth Lawrence:
“The squills are companions to the tulips, the large late-flowering types blooming along from the end of March to the end of April. They bloom well under all conditions and present no difficulties. The Spanish bluebells, Scilla hispanica, bloom in all degrees of shade, also in full sun, and in any kind of soil. They are in delicate tints of lilac and blue-violet, and are particularly useful in white. These are among the first of the flowers that give much and ask little….”
From “The Bluebell” by Anne Bronte in The Complete Poems of Anne Bronte, edited by Clement Shorter:
A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell,
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.
Yet I recall, not long ago,
A bright and sunny day:
‘Twas when I led a toilsome life
So many leagues away.
That day along a sunny road
All carelessly I strayed
Between two banks where smiling flowers
Their varied hues displayed….
Hello!
Here we have a collection of Bluebell photographs that I shot at Oakland Cemetery on March 30. When I passed some of my photos through PlantNet to identify the species, the site provided three probable scientific names: Hyacinthoides non-scripta (English or Common Bluebell), Hyacinthoides hispanica (Spanish Bluebell), and Hyacinthoides × massartiana (an English and Spanish Bluebell hybrid). With the above excerpts from Garden Bulbs for the South and A Southern Garden in mind, though, I’ve decided these are Spanish Bluebells, given their growing environment (a large open field with normal to dry soil conditions); their height (many stems a foot tall or taller); and their colors (a blend of blue and violet, sometimes translucent enough to approach white). The blended colors especially became important to their identification when I was working on them in Lightroom, where the presence of purple and violet (and not just blue) became very apparent, in the same way those two colors are more evident in my photos where the sunlight was brighter.
This is only the second time Bluebells have posed for me. The first time was in 2024 (see Blooming Bluebells) where I photographed them mostly at the base of a gigantic Water Oak, where they’re still thriving…
… and where they’ve expanded to nearby areas along a wooded and azalea’d path, producing some lovely color contrasts with the azalea’s pink, and some texture contrasts with another smaller Water Oak.
They’re also moving into new territory either on their own or by intentional planting (or a little of both) as they’re now growing far from their original oak tree location and spreading into the rest of the field, whose characteristics and layout I described in a previous post, Ambitious Spring Snowflakes (Leucojum vernum) (3 of 3).
Given the consistent spacing between many of the plants, I think I can speculate that Oakland’s landscapers may be attempting to fill this entire corner of the field with Bluebells — so we’ll keep an eye on it because an unbroken sea of Bluebells every March would be a visually epic addition to the gardens and to this corner of that field.
You may have noticed that the two book excerpts above use the word “squills” to describe Bluebells. This was a new word to me, one I feel like I could have made up; yet it turns out it has ancient Greek and Latin roots, becoming part of early European botanical literature in such writings as those of herbalist and botanist John Gerard. It was later used as a substitute for the plant genus Scilla, under which the Spanish Bluebell was once known as Scilla hispanica; and is often associated with the botanically and medically significant Sea Squill (Drimia maritima) — a plant in the same family (Asparagaceae) as Bluebells. I still might make up my own definition for “squill” and use it inappropriately, because I like how it sounds when you say it out loud.
Thanks for reading and taking a look!
