Baby painted turtles, small and black, bask on a slice of floating wood. An adult climbs onto a log, exposing its orange belly. And underneath the soft earth, ants carry trillium seeds to be dispersed at a distance, in a place where there is ample sunlight, water, and room to grow.

This is spring at the Garden in the Woods in Framingham, a time of beauty and magic, and starting Monday, May 9, the venue for the New England Wild Flower Society’s first annual Trillium Week — possibly the first anywhere, organizers say.

Trilliums are wildflowers native to the forests and wetlands of eastern North America. They have delicate faces, a hardy disposition, and a lineage going back 60 million years. In New England, four species are native; around the world, 48 species thrive.

During Trillium Week, visitors will be encouraged to plant these mostly three-petaled perennials in their own yards and gardens. Protection and conservation, the experts say, begin with appreciation.

“A lot of them are very easy to grow,’’ says Mark Richardson, director of horticulture at the wildflower society, suggesting that home gardeners plant the species called trillium randiflorum, which is native to New England and depends on rich, well-drained, organic soil and dappled light, heavy on the shade. “With good garden soil, they make a nice perennial border. They’re not finicky, in general.’’

Richardson, who earned a master’s degree from the Longwood Graduate Program in Public Horticulture at the University of Delaware, ticks off the plant’s Latin names — family, melanthiaceae, genus, trillium, species, grandiflorum — and recites the names of other species as if they were old friends.

Trillium luteum is a yellow bloom with the fragrance of lemon. Trillium cuneatum has mottled leaves and a maroon-colored blossom. Trillium grandiflorum is white.

Interestingly, Richardson says, a hybrid of the yellow trillium luteum and the maroon trillium cuneatum may bloom yellow but fail the sniff test, as does a cuneatum that is not a mix: only trillium luteum carries the lemony scent.

In early spring, moreover, it takes a practiced eye — and a willingness to stoop to the plant’s level — to see the trillium’s buds emerging. From here, it’s easier to respect how ants disperse the seeds, carrying them through tunnels under the earth, dropping them after making a meal of the fatty substance, elaiosome, that’s attached.

The ant’s role is crucial: were the seed to remain close to the parent, it would likely perish; at a distance, it’s usually assured all the elements it needs to grow.

The wildflower society, of course, is concerned with protecting and preserving many native plants. But talks and demonstrations scheduled May 9 through 15 elevate trillium to celebrity status. Visitors may choose from an array of programs: from “Understanding Trillums’’ by William Cullina, author and executive director at the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens, to “Dividing Trilliums’’ by Dan Jaffe, propagator and stock bed grower at Garden in the Woods. And there will also be guided tours and a trillium story and playtime for young children.

“We have the most extensive collection in New England,’’ says Jessica Pederson, the New England Wild Flower Society’s director of public programs, proud to note that the trillium is the organization’s signature flower and that in 2013, the garden’s trillium collection was accredited by the American Public Gardens Association Plant Collections Network.

Bill Brumback, director of conservation at the Wild Flower Society, says he remembers the first trillium he ever saw, trillium x erectum, also known as painted trillium.

“I had moved to New England from the mid-Atlantic states,’’ he says, recalling a hiking trip to the White Mountains where he came upon a pinkish flower with leaves the size of a dogwood’s. “When you find a rare species you don’t see every day, you remember where you saw it.’’

Pederson, the public programs director, came to her appreciation of wildflowers indirectly.

“I grew up around the corner,’’ she says, describing a childhood experience that left a deep impression. “There were woodlands around our house, and I found a lady slipper and picked it.’’

“My mother was very upset,’’ she continues, recalling a visit to the Garden in the Woods with her mother, who explained why the wildflowers were important and needed protection.

What Pederson learned was how picking a lady slipper — or any other wildflower that grows in the woods — disrupts the forest’s ecosystem, threatening the survival of plants, animals, insects, and microorganisms.

Now, she’s making it possible for others to learn that lesson.

During Trillium Week, guests will be invited to tag plants in the stock beds for later purchase and pick up or choose from among a variety of potted trillium for sale at the garden store, ready to be transplanted and enjoyed in the backyard.

But Pederson and her colleagues say they hope the celebration plants other seeds: a commitment to conservation; a deeper appreciation for the web that sustains all life; and the realization that while the calendar marks spring’s official arrival, the more reliable harbinger is the three-petaled beauty now blooming in white, pink, yellow, and maroon in the forest.

Hattie Bernstein can be reached at hbernstein04@icloud.com.