Although introductions are probably not necessary, this is Trillium ovatum, an unmistakable and endearing plant that softly lights up the vernal understory of moist coniferous and mixed forests from southern British Columbia, south to California, east to Idaho, Montana and small parts of Wyoming and Colorado, and north to southwestern Alberta. It’s part of a large genus, with about 50 other members that are native to temperate areas of North America and Asia.
Trillium ovatum’s common names are “western trillium” and “wake robin,” the latter due to its unofficial designation as harbinger of spring. Trillium comes from modern Latin, reportedly an alteration of the Swedish trilling, meaning “triplet,” which refers to its three leaves and three petals. Ovatum is derived from the Latin ovum meaning “egg-shaped,” which describes the leaf outline.
How it grows
A perennial that grows from rhizomes, it technically produces no true leaves or stems above ground; the stems are considered an extension of the horizontal rhizome. The part of the plant that we notice most is an upright flowering scape (stalk), and the leaf-like structures are bracts, but most people call them leaves because they photosynthesize. The smaller leaf-like structures just under the flower are sepals.
Trillium species are divided into two types: Pedicellate (those with flowers that have a short stalk called a peduncle) and sessile (those with flowers attached directly to the bracts). The flowers have six stamens and three stigmas. Trillium plants are very long lived and can take as long as 10 years to flower from seed. As the flowers age and following pollination, the white flowers change to pink or even burgundy. Trillium are known as spring ephemerals; as summer proceeds, they go into dormancy and mostly disappear from our view (although those that are well established or receive adequate summer water usually maintain their greenery above ground following the flowering period).
Wildlife value
Pollination happens thanks to native bumble bees, moths, and beetles. The resulting fruit is fleshy and berrylike; the seeds evolved to have fleshy elaiosomes whose nutritious proteins and fats attract muscular ants who carry the seeds back home to feed their young. After the food is consumed, they toss the still viable seed and, voila! Seed dispersal accomplished.
Try it at home
Although trillium plants are quintessential forest denizens, they usually do well in shaded to partly shaded, moist woodland gardens, or even just moist (but well drained) areas on the north or east side of houses, provided that the soil is rich in organic matter and slightly acidic (pH 5.0 to 6.5). Leafy and woody debris is very important in the forest, and should be allowed to accumulate and decompose on the soil at home as well, since fallen leaves, bark, twigs, cones, and branches slow moisture loss and provide habitat as well as nutrients. If your soil is poor and lacking in organic matter, or if the top soil is shallow, add some compost as mulch (leaf compost is good) right after planting and allow whole leaves to continually accumulate on top to eventually create more humus.
Trillium can withstand minor droughts, but occasional summer water will help keep them going until winter rains begin. Recent transplants should definitely be kept slightly moist during the first couple of summers.
The plants you buy will likely be small, but in the right conditions and over many years they will slowly spread from rhizomes to a clump as wide as two feet. Grow them as nature would: In drifts with individual plants roughly several feet apart. Although I haven’t quite gotten around to growing them from seed, sources say that seed should be collected when capsules begin to open in midsummer. Sow them twice as deep as the seed’s diameter (or slightly deeper) in deep containers with coarse growing medium. Leave them outdoors in a shaded spot to mimic natural conditions. More detailed info on propagation here.
Some PNW associates to grow them with include Douglas-fir, western redcedar, western hemlock, Pacific rhododendron, vine maple, salal, sword fern, maidenhair fern, deer fern, vanilla leaf, oxalis, western wild ginger, and stream violet.
Other Pacific Northwest trillium
Trillium albidum occurs in most parts of western Oregon, as well as Thurston, Pierce and Lewis counties in Washington, and much of northern California. Trillium parviflorum grows naturally in southwestern Washington and northwestern 
Oregon. Trillium rivale occurs only in southwestern Oregon and the northernmost counties of California. Trillium kurabayashii (pictured, right) is naturally found only in Oregon’s Curry County, as well as Del Norte and Humboldt counties of California.
Only buy natives from reputable nurseries and never dig plants from the wild. And it’s true what they say about never picking the flowers—doing so may eliminate the only chance the leaf-like bracts have for photosynthesis, and cause the plant to weaken or possibly even die.
My grandmother, Rosamund Wakeman Hess, was credited with discovery of a Trillium only found in Curry County, Oregon. This would have been late 1970s. We have lost track of name and wondered if you could be any help. She lived in Wedderburn at the time. DAR also recognized her efforts. Any help would be fabulous.
As I wrote in the post, “Trillium kurabayashii … is naturally found only in Oregon’s Curry County, as well as Del Norte and Humboldt counties of California.”
Its not common to find truly informative pages on any native wildlife in the NW, with the how-to on growing them your self. I’m impressed and thank you very much!
Thank you for your kind words, Michael! If you live west of the Cascades, please check out my book if you haven’t already. (It’s on backorder at this time almost everywhere but I could mail you a signed copy if you’re interested in buying one). Take care.
I spent years in the Pacific Northwest. It was magical walking through the woods! I’m back in my home state of Maine. It’s lovely here, but doesn’t compare with the Great Northwest.
Does this trillium grow naturally only in wetland or near wetland areas?
Thank you.
It grows mainly in dense, moist forests at low to mid elevations, sometimes where the soil is very wet in springtime. Its wetland status is “FACU (Facultative Upland – Nonhydrophyte. Usually occurs in non-wetlands, but may occur in wetlands.)”
I recently bought your book, Real Gardens Grow Natives. It has changed my life, and every idea or plan that I had on how to landscape my yard. You have seriously increased my work in learning how to do it right. Thank you!
Thank you so much for letting me know, Dixie! I wish you all the best in your forthcoming wonderful garden. Thank you for growing natives!
I’ve been in my Vancouver Washington house since 1997. My first spring I found a couple of Western trilliums under the existing Douglas firs in the back yard. I had to look up what they were since I’d grown up in Texas. In 1998, I read Sara Stein’s “Noah’s Garden” and became a convert to planting natives–I was instantly all in.
When I bought this typical suburban house on its 10,000 sq ft lot, the grounds were mostly grass, ivy, vinca, weeds and barkdust and “featured” a profusion of yellow marigolds and blue lobelia growing in a huge circle around an enormous pink-flowering hydrangea. From my roof this looked like a target.
Bit by bit I replaced everything, mostly with natives purchased in 2″ to 4″ pots, all I could afford. My big splurge every summer was a gallon-sized evergreen huckleberry, and I got another for my birthday. Although I couldn’t afford even baby trilliums from the local natives nurseries I patronized, each year I’d get one or two more blooms near my original pair. About 20 years ago, I began pinching out the seed capsules as soon as I saw them begin to split. (If I waited, by the next day these seedpods would be covered with ants, who are indeed master “Johnny Appleseeds” for this species).
Whatever seeds I could capture I would vigorously stir into a cup of soil and duff and broadcast the mixture in areas where I had no trilliums but wanted some; sometimes I did this right away, sometimes two months later. I didn’t bury them, cover them, or even press them into the ground, just shook the dirt mix into my already duffy beds and criss-crossed the area with a garden hand-rake to spread them out a couple of feet.
I don’t know the germination rate but every new area I seeded would have a few first-year seedlings the next year. The first-year leaves (I know, not really leaves, but I’m going to use that language here) look like wide blades of grass. They fatten into tiny single copies of mature trillium leaves in year two, and by year three or four, they resemble miniature trilliums with three little “leaves.” I typically seeded the same spot for three out of five years. I still do this in new areas every couple of years. I now have probably 100-200 trilliums of all ages, dozens that bloom including some big ones, in many parts of my plot. Once they’re big enough to bloom, they also self-seed (with ant help I’m sure) on their own.
My beautiful garden is now 99% PNW natives, about 250 species counting mosses, fungi and lichens. It’s mostly shady, cool, and full of wildlife including over 50 species of birds plus amphibians, reptiles, and mammals, not to mention bugs that include some spectacular beauties when you look closely at them.
This Eden has been just the right garden for me. My neighbors (lawn to the east, pachysandra to the right) may feel differently, as is their right. They sure look like they’re working hard! I don’t have to weed, spray, mow, deadhead or fuss. I let leaves, twigs and fallen branches rot in place, even the big ones. For years I didn’t even water, but the heat domes we get now mean I do water all day 2-3 times a summer. I also have to prune stuff out of my many stone paths.
Mostly, though, I get to simply enjoy it.
If you wish this were your own story, begin to “tell it” now. Anyone can do what I have done. Have faith, have courage, be patient, and you, too, can live in a ‘wild’ and mostly carefree native Paradise. I bet you’ll end up as happy as I am here.
Thank you for telling us about your wonderful, highly beneficial, low-maintenance yard! It’s amazing what you’ve been able to pack into a quarter acre — it clearly shows “where there’s a will, there’s a way.”