Wiesinger wants to revive people’s sense of wonder for the beauty in front of them.

By David Hopkins

Chris Wiesinger talks with the ease of someone who spends much of his day in a pickup truck and digging in the soil. He’s friendly and sensible, down-to-earth and relaxed. But ask him about flowers, and the conversation becomes fast and enthusiastic. He will drop names of rare flowers, share obscure historical anecdotes, and school you on why his bulbs are more accurately described as “adapted,” not “native.” While you’re trying to look up the difference between habranthus and zephyranthes, or hymenocallis speciosa and hymenocallis caribaea, he’s already moved on to another floral fable.

Wiesinger has a keen mind and boundless passion for his work at the Southern Bulb Company. He’s a true ambassador for the flowers he seeks out. Wiesinger is widely respected and a highly sought-after speaker for garden clubs and conventions. But the secret to his enthusiasm goes beyond the flowers. It’s something buried much deeper.

An Idea Takes Root

Like most people who pursue a life of anthology (flower gathering), Wiesinger got started with a love of gardening.

“I grew up gardening,” he says. “I was born in Louisiana. My folks are from Houston. We moved back to Houston before I was even a year old. I grew up in Houston until I was about 8. I moved to Bakersfield, California, and I had a garden in California.”

Forever living in hot, humid climates presented a challenge to the young gardener.

“I went to the garden center and convinced my parents to only spend $10 to buy these bulbs. I planted them, forgot about them, and in the spring, these brown little rocks turned into these beautiful red tulips. But the tulips only lasted for a few days. The next year, the foliage came up, and there was no bloom.”

The year after that, young Wiesinger looked forward to a bloom — something, anything — from his red tulip bulb, but nothing came. He dug for the bulb and found it had completely rotted and died.

“I thought, Well, that stinks. I really want bulbs that come back every year — that are perennials for a warm climate.”

This desire for a warm-climate perennial would stay with him, much like a dormant bulb — waiting for the right moment. That moment came when he was in college at Texas A&M University, where his interest in floriculture had earned him the nickname “Flower” with the Corps of Cadets.

“Senior year, there was a course that influenced me,” Wiesinger says. “It required us to write a business plan to start a nursery, so we would have some business sense when we graduated. I thought, This sounds like a fun project. Why don’t I try to answer a problem in the horticulture industry?”

This question brought him back to his days as a young gardener, lamenting the red tulip. The bulb of his past broke through the ground and bloomed. He decided to focus on a business of warm-climate bulbs — those that come back year after year.

Exploring the South

The bulbs Wiesinger wanted existed throughout the South, mostly on old home sites, far from the cities with their high-priced imports — out in forgotten rural areas where people planted whatever they had available. Wiesinger would need to travel, talk to different gardeners, and start collecting the bulbs he found.

“We have more varieties of perennial flower bulbs in Texas — that you plant once with zero care — than they would dream of having up in the Northeast.”

Wiesinger quickly learned he wasn’t just collecting these carefree bulbs — he was collecting stories. By preserving and studying heirloom bulbs, flowers that have survived for generations, he was studying the history of Texas itself.

“It’s thrilling. You just don’t realize. In some of these towns, which aren’t even on the radar anymore, there used to be thriving garden communities or garden clubs. In the late 1800s, the train would stop and drop off plants for the gardens, and the gardeners would plant-swap. It’s a blast trying to trace some of these stories back.”

Johnny Appleseed in Reverse

One day, while Wiesinger was digging on the side of a highway, which was going from two lanes to four, he noticed a site of daffodil bulbs nearby. He called the contractor to ask if he could dig up these bulbs. Wiesinger always asks. The contractor wanted to come to him to see what he was talking about.

“He came up in his truck, and he was rolling over the bulbs. Not even realizing it. And he rolled his window down, and he was like, ‘What do you want now?’ Well, these bulbs!”

Wiesinger indicated the daffodils the contractor had just driven over. The contractor said Wiesinger could take whatever he wanted. But the next day, the contractor returned. This time, he drove around the daffodils. His demeanor was different. He had talked to his wife the night before about the bulbs, and now he was interested in digging some up as well. Wiesinger was excited to help him dig and throw a few bulbs in his truck. They began talking. The contractor had questions about some bulbs he noticed farther down the road — questions about the color and shape.

“All of a sudden, I realized the guy who 24 hours ago had no idea he was surrounded by these beautiful things, his eyes had been opened to the beautiful flowers all around him. And that’s my goal: to help people take a moment and realize we’re surrounded by beautiful things.”

In some ways, Wiesinger is like Johnny Appleseed in reverse. Whereas Johnny Appleseed (based on the real-life frontier nurseryman John Chapman) was a folk hero who traveled the countryside planting seeds, Wiesinger has made a life for himself digging up these treasures, cultivating them, and selling them online, so he can bring this beauty to people.

“We can work these bulbs in our garden with a lot of success. And you can plant them now and leave a gardening heritage to your children and grandchildren.”

This is where his true passion is. Beyond the Texas spider lilies (or hymenocallis liriosme). The intersection of gardening and community. Wiesinger wants to nurture and revive people’s sense of wonder for the beauty in front of them.

“My job is to say, ‘Look, let’s retrain what we think about when we think about bulbs.’ There are beautiful bulbs all around us.”

(Originally published in Texas Heritage for Living, © 2020 Texas Farm Bureau Insurance)