Tricyrtis sp.

Tricyrtis is a small genus of woodland lilies from the Himalayas and eastern Asia, and this plant, almost certainly Tricyrtis formosana, carries the whole strange charm of the group in a single late-season flower. The botanical name joins the Greek treis, three, with kyrtos, humped or swollen, for the three little nectar sacs that bulge at the base of each bloom, a detail worth crouching down to find. The species epithet formosana points to Formosa, the old name for Taiwan, where these toad lilies grow on shaded, humus-rich slopes. The common name is the odd one: garden lore holds that hunters of the Philippine forests once rubbed the flowers' juice on their hands to make frogs and toads easier to grab, and the freckled, amphibian mottling of the petals has kept the name ever since.

The flowers wait until late summer and early fall, opening along arching stems just as most of the shade garden has gone quiet. Each is a small upfacing star, waxy white to pale lilac and stippled all over with deep purple, the six tepals spreading around a raised central column of stamens and styles that gives the bloom an almost orchid-like architecture. Toad lilies have long been prized in Japanese and Chinese gardens, where the genus is grown for exactly this out-of-season generosity, and the plant spreads slowly by short rhizomes into a civilized clump rather than a running colony.

Set the toad lily where a passerby will meet the flowers up close, since the intricate spotting is lost at any distance: along a shaded path, at the front of a woodland bed, beside a bench, or in a raised pocket where the upfacing blooms rise to the eye. The plant asks for the cool, moist, humus-rich, well-drained soil of a woodland floor and shelter from hot afternoon sun, and pairs beautifully with ferns, hostas, hellebores, wild ginger, and the fading foliage of spring ephemerals that the late bloom follows.

Because the flowers arrive so late, give the toad lily a spot that stays interesting through summer on foliage alone, then let the September and October show close the gardening year with something few other shade plants can offer. A drift lit by low autumn light, each petal freckled and translucent, is a quiet reward for the gardener who plants for the season most others forget.