Bloodroot wears the whitest white long before Easter, trout lilies can be found in a drainage ditch, sarvis likes to hang dangerously on the edge of a cliff, peering at the view. They don’t always bloom where you expect them to, yet if you try to transplant one it acts as if it couldn’t possibly live anywhere else.
They don’t always smell like you would expect them to either. Our largest white trillium is nicknamed "Stinking Benjamin" and if you give it a whiff if you’ll know why! The maroon version is also called "Wake Robin", presumably because of the timing of its arrival with the robins as well as its upright stature. The yellow trillium, however, has a heavenly lemon scent which is worth laying flat on the ground for, poking your nose right in the petals. This trillium also has a maroon version; I've heard them nicknamed “Sweet Betsy“ as well as “Toadstools”, which seems a bit incongruous. Please don’t pick any of these; some species of trillium take up to 14 years to grow a bloom!
The best way to enjoy these beautiful blessings is in person, of course, but there are also plenty of photographs circulating around to take in. I'm waiting for someone to bottle some of the fragrances, or possibly create scented candles with the true essences. But knowing the tendencies of wildflowers, it's possible they wouldn't cooperate!

Happy Spring!