growing saffron in michigan: old roots, new blooms
When I first told my mother I wanted to grow saffron in Michigan, she laughed and said, "That’s not something our family ever tried—why not stick to marigolds like grandma did?" But the world is changing, and so is our climate. Winters aren’t as harsh as they used to be, and I saw a chance to bring a piece of the Mediterranean right into my backyard.
Planting those tiny saffron corms took me back to childhood afternoons in my grandmother’s garden, her hands always stained with earth. She believed in planting what the land knew—peonies, lilacs, and the sturdy vegetables that survived our unpredictable springs. But I wanted to try something new, to see if Michigan’s shifting seasons could cradle something as delicate as saffron.
Neighbors shook their heads, worried about "foreign" plants taking over. Some even said it wasn’t right to break from tradition, while others were curious—could this be a new cash crop for our struggling farms? I felt the tension between honoring family ways and embracing change. When the first purple flowers bloomed through the frost, I felt a surge of pride and a pang of guilt. Was I betraying my roots, or building new ones?
Now, as I harvest those precious red threads, I wonder: Is it wrong to want both tradition and innovation in our gardens? Or is this how we keep our communities alive—by blending the old with the new, one season at a time?
#saffroninmichigan #gardeningdebate #familytraditions #Gardening
