We know it’s Autumn when the first colchicum raises its lovely head from the soil. Until now, I’ve always called it an Autumn Crocus and I’m grateful to bbc.co.uk for setting me straight.

Apparently, colchicums are also known as Autumn Crocus, Meadow Saffron and Naked Ladies, hence the confusion. Unlike crocuses though, which belong to the iris family, colchicums belong to the lily family. And the colchicum has six stamens while the crocus has only three. It’s a member of the Colchicaceae family, native to West Asia and parts of the Mediterranean coast.

I’ve narrowed ours down to Colchicum agrippinum. They love their position near the front path, where they receive admiring glances from passers-by and full sun from late morning through to late afternoon. Colchicums will also grow beneath trees, in light shade.

These have few companions right now. By next Autumn, with a bit of luck, the native pelargoniums that I’ve planted in the same bed will have spread to surround them. 

It’s quite miraculous that I haven’t damaged the corms during frenzied activity while digging out daffodil bulbs there. But here they are yet again… beautiful, proud and ready to wow an appreciative audience, albeit for a very brief period.

Here’s a funny thing: Every Spring, a large clump of green leaves appears in that bed. I eagerly await the arrival of accompanying flowers only to be disappointed when the leaves die back without a flower to be seen. It’s only taken me seven Autumns to realise that they were the leaves of the colchicum.

To succeed with colchicums, you really don’t need to do much at all. I can vouch that these are the ideal Autumn-flowering plant for the lazy gardener, especially if you inherit a garden where they’re already growing, like we did. If you’re starting from scratch, they’re still hardly any trouble at all.

Plant the corms in groups of three – about 10 to 15cm deep, 15 to 20cm apart – in well-drained soil enriched with compost. Make sure you plant them pointy end up.

If they don’t flower that Autumn but in the following Spring instead, don’t be concerned. As soon as they’re watered, they’ll produce the aforementioned lush green leaves. Whatever you do, don’t cut the leaves off – they supply the corms with energy for the flowers in Autumn.

Colchicums enjoy hot, dry Summers so they’re perfect for areas such as ours, where rain is a stranger until at least March, and the flowers patiently wait until after they’ve been watered before emerging. Ours have received light waterings lately but they’ve really been encouraged by yesterday’s 10mm.

The corms multiply by themselves without your having to do a thing. If the flowers start to look too crowded, wait until just after they’ve finished and divide the plants. Do this by digging up the whole plant, making sure you lift all the corms, then divide into individual corms. Replant into compost-enriched soil.

Although the colchicum enjoys dry soil while the leaves are growing, a moderate watering will ensure good, healthy growth for the following year. I’ve also read that a low-nitrogen fertiliser will benefit the plant although ours seem to thrive on just a handful of compost every now and then. If your garden’s bothered by slugs and snails, guard new leaf shoots by sprinkling crushed eggshells around them.

If we could eat the colchicum’s flowers or leaves, it would be the perfect plant. Instead it gives us food for thought: As the fierce heat of this damaging Summer fades, and Autumn’s healing coolness descends upon the land, the colchicum’s fleeting beauty reminds us of the evanescence of all things.