Feb 18, 2020
Today we celebrate a man who wrote one of the most influential
herbals in history and the French botanist who created the modern
strawberry.
We'll learn about the Father of Paleobotany and the sweet little
Orchid known as the moccasin flower.
Today's Unearthed Words feature words about winter.
We Grow That Garden Library™ with the diary of a fabulous
nurserywoman and garden designer.
I'll talk about a garden item to get hung up on...
and then we'll wrap things up with the fascinating birth flowers
for the month of February.
But first, let's catch up on a few recent events.
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Curated Articles
Plant of the Month: The Sensitive Plant | JSTOR
Daily
JSTOR is a digital library for scholars, researchers, and
students.
Aw... it's The Sensitive Plant! Whenever you touch it, the leaves
fold up like a fan along its stem.
"At first glance, Mimosa pudica ("poo-DEE-cah") is a plant that
most people would consider a weed. It grows close to the ground,
with countless delicate leaflets, puffy pinkish balls of flowers,
and small bunches of legumes. So it makes sense that Mimosa pudica
would be known as the "Humble Plant," but what about its
association with other names, like "Herb of Love" and "Sensitive
Plant"?
When Linnaeus considered what separated living from non-living
things he wrote,
"Stones grow; plants grow and live; animals grow, live, and
feel."
With the Mimosa's apparent ability to feel, many people felt that
the Sensitive Plant took on animal characteristics with its strong
reaction to touch.
The Sensitive Plant fascinated 18th-century botanists, scientists,
and poets who often compared the plant to animals because of the
reaction of the plant; contracting after being touched.
In 1791, Erasmus Darwin wrote about the Sensitive Plant in a poem
called The Botanic Garden.
Weak with nice sense, this chaste Mimosa stands
From each rude touch withdraws her timid hands;
Oft as light clouds o’er-pass the Summer-glade,
And feels, alive through all her tender form,
The whisper’d murmurs of the gathering storm;
Shuts her sweet eye-lids to approaching night,
And hails with freshen’d charms the rising light.
Honey Plant Growth
Stimulator - Using Honey To Root Cuttings
This post is from Gardening Know How.
"Many people have found success with using honey to root
cuttings.
It is, after all, a natural antiseptic and contains anti-fungal
properties — allowing the little cuttings to remain healthy and
strong.
Some people have even added honey to willow water to aid in
rooting."
Now, if you'd like to check out these curated articles for
yourself, you're in luck, because I share all of it
with the Listener Community in the
Free Facebook Group - The Daily Gardener
Community.
There's no need to take notes or search for links - the next time
you're on Facebook, search for Daily Gardener Community and request
to join. I'd love to meet you in the group.
Important Events
1515 Today is the birthday of Valerius
Cordus.
Cordus was the author of one of the most influential herbals in
history.
In fact, centuries later, the botanist Thomas Archibald Sprague
re-published "The Herbal of Valerius Cordus" with his older sister,
who he considered to be the best botanist in his botanist
family.
After the book was published, Sprague gifted her with a personal
and gorgeous bound copy. He had the book dedicated to her in Latin:
"M. S. Sprague praeceptrici olim hodie collaboratrici d.d. T. A.
Sprague" - basically, thanking her for all that she had taught him
and collaborated with him.
Valerius Cordus died young, at the age of 29. He had contracted
malaria.
In 1544, Valerius had spent the summer botanizing in Italy with two
French naturalists. At some point, he had waded into marshes in
search of new plants. When he became sick a short time later, his
friends brought him to Rome, and then, they continued on to Naples.
When they returned for him, they found their friend, Valerius, had
died.
We owe a debt of gratitude to the Swiss botanist Konrad Gesner who
had the sense to collect Cordus' prolific writings and preserve and
publish them.
One expert once said,
"There was Theophrastus; there was nothing for 1,800 years; then
there was Cordus."
The genus Cordia is named in honor of Valerius Cordus.
Cordia's are in the borage family, and many cordias have fragrant,
showy flowers. Some cordias also produce edible fruits with strange
and fascinating names like clammy cherries, glue berries, sebesten,
or snotty gobbles.
1827 Today is the anniversary of the
death of the French botanist, gardener, and professor at
Versailles, Antoine Nicolas Duchesne ("do-Shane").
A specialist in strawberries and gourds, Duchesne was a student of
Bernard de Jussieu at the Royal Garden in Paris. A plant pioneer,
Duchesne recognized that mutation was a natural occurrence and that
plants could be altered through mutation at any time.
As a young botanist, Duchesne began experimenting with
strawberries. Ever since the 1300s, wild strawberries had been
incorporated into gardens. But, on July 6, 1764, Duchesne created
the modern strawberry - the strawberry we know and love today.
Strawberries are members of the rose family, and their seeds are on
the outside of the fruit. Just how many seeds are on a single
strawberry? Well, the average strawberry has around 200 seeds.
Now, to get your strawberry plants to produce more fruit, plant
them in full sun, in well-drained soil, and trim the runners.
1873 Today is the anniversary of the
death of the French botanist and the Father of Paleobotany;
Adolphe-Théodore Brongniart ("Bron-yahr").
Adolphe-Théodore and his wife had two sons, and when
Adolphe-Théodore died, he died in the arms of his eldest son.
As one of the most prominent botanists of the 19th century,
Adolphe-Théodore worked to classify fossil plant forms, and he did
so even before Charles Darwin. Adolphe-Théodore's work provided
content for his book on the history of plant fossils in 1828.
Adolphe-Théodore published his masterpiece when he was just 27
years old.
Adolphe-Théodore's writing brought him notoriety and gave him the
moniker "Father of Paleobotany." He was also called the "Linnaeus
of Fossil Plants." A paleobotanist is someone who works with fossil
plants. Plants have been living on the planet for over 400 million
years. So, there are plenty of fossil plants to study and
catalog.
Adolphe-Théodore was not so much a fossil plant discoverer as he
was a fossil plant organizer. He put fossil plants in order and
applied principles for distinguishing them.
In 1841, at the age of 40, Adolphe-Théodore received the Wollaston
Medal for his work with fossil plants. It is the highest award
granted by the Geological Society of London. The honor would have
made his geologist father, Alexander, very proud.
Adolphe-Théodore was a professor at the Paris Museum of Natural
History. He was the backfill for Andre Michaux, who had left to
explore the flora of North America.
1902 Today the Showy Lady's-Slipper
became the State Flower of Minnesota.
The Lady' s-Slipper Orchid was discovered in 1789 by the botanist
William Aiton. The common name Lady' s-Slipper is from the unusual
form of the third petal that makes that part of the bloom look like
a little shoe.
During his lifetime, Darwin repeatedly tried to propagate the Lady'
s-Slipper Orchid. He never succeeded.
Now, the growing conditions of the Lady' s-Slipper are quite
particular - which is why they are almost impossible to keep in a
traditional garden. It's also illegal to pick, uproot or unearth
the flowers - which was a problem in the 1800s when people
collected them almost to extinction. Since 1925, the Lady'
s-Slipper has been protected by Minnesota state law.
In the wild, Lady' s-Slippers grow in swamps, bogs, and damp woods.
They take forever to grow, and they can grow for almost a decade
before producing their first flower, which can last for two months
in cooler weather. As long-lived plants, Lady' s-Slippers can grow
as old as 100 years and grow up to 4 feet tall.
To Native Americans, the Lady' s-Slipper was known as the moccasin
flower. An old Ojibwe legend told of a plague that had occurred
during a harsh winter. Many people died - including the tribal
healer. Desperate for help, a young girl was sent to find medicine.
But, the snow was deep, and in her haste, she lost her boots and
left a trail of bloody footprints in the snow. Every spring, the
legend was that her footprints were marked with the beautiful
moccasin flower.
One summer, when Henry David Thoreau came upon a red variety of
Lady' s-Slipper in the woods, he wrote about it, saying:
"Everywhere now in dry pitch pine woods stand the red
Lady's-Slipper over the red pine leaves on the forest floor
rejoicing in June. Behold their rich striped red, their
drooping sack."
Unearthed Words
Here are some words about this time of year.
The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river is dead.
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, American poet, An Afternoon
in February
A man says a lot of things in summer he doesn't mean in winter.
— Patricia Briggs, American Fantasy Writer, Dragon's
Blood
Pleasures newly found are sweet
When they lie about our feet:
February last, my heart
First at sight of thee was glad;
All unheard of as thou art,
Thou must needs, I think, have had,
Celandine ("seh·luhn·dine")!
And long ago.
Praise of which I nothing know.
— William Wordsworth, English Romantic poet, To the Same
Flower
(In medieval lore, it was believed that mother birds dropped the
juice of the celandineinto the eyes of their
blind fledglings.)
I was just thinking if it is really religion with these nudist
colonies, they sure must turn atheists in the wintertime.
— Will Rogers, American actor & cowboy
The twelve months…
Snowy, Flowy, Blowy,
Showery, Flowery, Bowery,
Hoppy, Croppy, Droppy,
Breezy, Sneezy, Freezy.
— George Ellis, Jamaican-born English satirical
poet
Grow That Garden Library
Beth Chatto's Garden Notebook
Beth's book was a monthly record of everything she did in her
garden. Her chapters covered the garden, but also bits of her life.
From a personal standpoint, Beth shared her successes as well as
her failures. She was a business owner and ran a garden center, and
she also showed a garden at Chelsea, which was a tremendous thrill
but also an incredible amount of work.
Beth gardened for over four decades, and she appreciated the
time-factor of gardening and the patience required to grow a garden
and grow into a good gardener. She wrote:
"As certain of our plants take many years to mature, so it takes a
long time to grow a genuine plantsman. Those of us who have been at
it longest know that one lifetime is not half enough, once you
become aware of the limitless art of gardening."
Here's an excerpt from her chapter on January. Beth's talking about
a mass planting of shrubs that appeared less-than-enticing in the
winter landscape:
"I remember several years ago… suddenly feeling very dissatisfied
with a group of shrubs which had not faulted when they were full of
leaf (and, for a few weeks, blossom) during the summer. But now,
leafless and with nothing distinguished about their habit of
growth, the whole patch looked muddled, formless and lifeless.
By removing some of it, planting a holly and Mahonia among the rest
together with vigorous sheaves of the evergreen Iris foetidissima
("FOY-ta-dis-EMMA")'Citrina' nearby and patches of small-leafed
ivies as ground cover, the picture became much more interesting in
winter and now forms a better background to the summer carnival
which passes before it."
In her book, Beth writes in conversation with the reader. In
January, she asks:
"If you look out of your favorite window now, are you satisfied
with the view? Does it lack design? Would a small-leafed, narrowly
pyramidal Holly do anything for it, and how many plants can you see
which remain green -or grey, or bronze -throughout the winter,
furnishing the bare soil at ground level?"
Finally, Beth begins her chapter on February with a word about how,
for many nursery owners and landscapers, this time of year can feel
overwhelming as the full weight of the season's work is
anticipated. Beth also acknowledged how difficult it was for her to
write during the garden season. This is a common challenge for
garden writers who are too busy gardening in the summer to write
but then can find less inspiration to write in the winter without
their gardens.
"This morning, I awoke to hear the grandfather clock striking 4
a.m. and was immediately alert, all my present commitments
feverishly chasing themselves through my head. Apart from a garden
I have foolishly agreed to plan, there is the Chelsea Flower Show
nudging more and more insistently as the weeks rush towards May.
Usually, I have a nucleus of large plants and shrubs in containers
that provide an established looking background. [But] the sudden
severe weather in January has killed off several of my old plants.
I have no frost-free place large enough to protect them all; in
normal winters, a plastic-covered tunnel has been sufficient.
Another commitment is this notebook, which has been fermenting in
my mind for several months. I would like to write it, to record
some of the ups and downs of a nursery garden, but my one fear is
not finding time to write decently. Even keeping up a scrappy diary
becomes difficult as the sap rises."
You can get a used copy of Beth Chatto's Garden
Notebook and
support the show, using the Amazon Link in today's Show Notes for
under $9.
Great Gifts for Gardeners
AOMGD 3 Pack Macrame Plant Hanger and 3 PCS Hooks Indoor
Outdoor Hanging Plant Holder Hanging Planter Stand Flower Pots for
Decorations - Cotton Rope, 4 Leg-Strings, 3 Sizes
$9.89
Today's Botanic Spark
Even though roses are often associated with February (thanks to
Valentine's Day), February's birth flower is not the rose.
Instead, February has two birth flowers. In England, February's
birth flower is the Violet, and in the United States, February is
honored with the Primrose.
With regard to the Violet, the plantsman Derek Jarman once
wrote:
"Violet has the shortest wavelength of the spectrum. Behind it, the
invisible ultraViolet.
'Roses are Red; Violets are Blue.'
Poor Violet — violated for a rhyme."
The adorable little Violet signifies many virtues; truth and
loyalty; watchfulness and faithfulness.
Gifting a Violet lets the recipient know you'll always be true.
Like the theme song from Friends promises, you'll always be there
for them.
The ancient Greeks placed a high value on the Violet. When it came
time to pick a blossom as a symbol for Athens, it was the Violet
that made the cut. The Greeks used Violet to make medicine. They
also used Violets in the kitchen to make wine and to eat the edible
blossoms.
Today, Violets are used to decorate salads, and they can even be
gently sprinkled over fish or poultry. Violets are beautiful when
candied in sugar or used to decorate pastries. Violets can even be
distilled into a syrup for a memorable Violet liqueur.
Finally, Violets were Napoleon Bonaparte's signature flower. When
his wife, Josephine, died in 1814, Napoleon covered her grave with
Violets. His friends even referred to Napoleon as Corporal Violet.
After he was exiled to Elba, Napoleon vowed to return before the
Violet season. Napoleon's followers used Violet to weed out his
detractors. They would ask strangers if they liked Violets; a
positive response was the sign of a loyal Napoleon supporter.
The other official February flower is the Primrose, which
originated from the Latin word "primus," meaning "first" or
"early." The name refers to the Primrose as one of the first plants
that bloom in the spring.
As with the Violet, the leaves and flowers of Primrose are edible
and often tossed into a salad. The leaves are said to taste like
lettuce.
Gifting a Primrose has a more urgent - stalkerish- meaning than the
Violet; a Primrose tells a person that you can't live without them.
In Germany, people believed that the first girl to find a Primrose
on Easter would marry that same year.
And, the saying about leading someone down the Primrose path,
refers to enticing someone with to do something bad by laying out
pleasurable traps.
The phrase originated in William Shakespeare's Hamlet as Ophelia
begs her brother:
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
While like a puffed and reckless libertine,
Himself, the Primrose path of dalliance treads.
And, the man known as "The Daffodil King, Peter Barr, who bred over
2 million daffodils at his home in Surry and he's credited with
popularizing the daffodil. Yet, when Barr retired, he went to
Scotland and grew - not daffodils, but Primroses. Two years before
he died, Peter Barr, the Daffodil King, mused,
"I wonder who will plant my grave with Primroses?"