Pollen Nation

White Ivy – The Daily Flower for 31 January

I’m beginning to suspect that white ivy is a bit of a white lie. Of course, it’s seen scalloped on marble gateposts, forged into cast-iron fencing and plastered on heraldic insignias often enough, but in nature? It’s proving more than the ‘rarity’ it’s purported to connote in floriography.

(Black and) white ivy by ebeth

Plausible explanations: today was a bit of a white elephant for the Victorians, so they associated it with a flower that was equally futile (or futile to try and look for); the floriographer who came up with the idea of white ivy was chasing white rabbits at the time; someone conveniently forgot to add leaf geranium to the end of white ivy; or, the person who came up with the flower for today was using a monochrome picture of Hedera hibernica as their source material.

Surely there is a better answer?

Good for giving to: Hard-to-find ones of a kind.

Great white ivy in literature: The rest of the things described in this ‘pleasantly sentimental, fancifully tender and humorous study of life’ seem real enough... but is this sufficient proof  that the plant exists?:

And, besides this, there were tents roofed with boughs of white ivy and of the vine--the roots of which derived their moisture from casks full of earth, and were watered in the same manner as the gardens.
From Prue and I by George William Curtis

Tags: flowers, white ivy, floriography

Holly – The Daily Flower for 30 January

Every rose has its thorn, but there’s no need to be bleak about it. Rather, take heed from the ‘ever cheerful’ holly bush: every prickly leafed Ilex aquifolium has its beautiful white four-lobed blossom and blood-red berry.

Ilex aquifolium (source: www.biolib.de)

Most often seen around Christmas time, holly, rather aptly, has quite a holy history. According to Madame Grieve, ‘an old legend declares that the Holly first sprang up under the footsteps of Christ, when He trod the earth, and its thorny leaves and scarlet berries, like drops of blood, have been thought symbolical of the Saviour’s sufferings’. Certainly, treading on anything ‘aquifolium’, meaning with needle-like leaves, is sure to prickle the foot.

Good for giving to: Anyone in need of ice cubes (Mme Grieve reports that the flowers were once purported to freeze water).

Great hollies in literature: Perhaps we should be wary of them making us too cheerful:

[...] the wild holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty [...]
From Walden & on the Duty of Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, holly, Ilex aquifolium, floriography

White Geranium – The Daily Flower for 29 January

Snowman, then Snowmass,
Modesty reduces it
To a Summer Cloud

Not sure this little not-quite-haiku encapsulates refinement, the floriographic connotation of the white geranium, but we can’t fault it for containing the names of a few ivory cultivars in the Geranium genus.

That’s not to say that white geraniums lack sophistication. There’s something quite remarkable about any flower that acts as a natural deterrent to Japanese beetles. Unless, of course, you’re a Coleoptera nipponaise.

White geranium by audreyjm529

Good for giving to: Anyone except Yoko Ono?

Great white geraniums in literature: The epitome of sartorial civility:

He wore a silk hat and a frock coat, the lapel of which was adorned with a white geranium surrounded by leaves.
From Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham

Tags: flowers, white geranium, floriography

Orange Blossom – The Daily Flower for 26 January

While Robert Herrick urged us to gather our rosebuds, there comes a time in the life of even the most confirmed bachelor when his friends urge him to abandon Rosa chinesis and seek out Citrus sinesis…

Orange flowers, orange blossoms, flos aurantii – call them what you will, the tiny, scented white blossoms of Citrus sinesis have long been associated with nuptials, to the extent that ‘to gather orange blossoms’ means to look for a wife.

Orange blossom

Apparently the custom of orange blossom pomanders and bridal bouquets was nicked from the Saracens during the crusades. The nomadic Arabs from the Sinai Peninsula allegedly considered the white blossoms to connote chastity, a meaning that was maintained by the Victorian floriographers.

More recently (well, in 1919, to be precise), Florida adopted the orange blossom as its state flower. Whether the Sunshine State’s marriage laws make it any easier to tie the knot, you’ll have to decide for yourself.

Good for giving to: Tallahassee virgins.

Great orange blossoms in literature: Will seems to suggest the trend came from a little closer to home:

Had orange blossoms been invented then (those touching emblems of female purity imported by us from France, where people’s daughters are universally sold in marriage), Miss Maria, I say, would have assumed the spotless wreath, and stepped into the travelling carriage by the side of gouty, old, bald-headed, bottle-nosed Bullock Senior; and devoted her beautiful existence to his happiness with perfect modesty--only the old gentleman was married already; so she bestowed her young affections on the junior partner.
From Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray

Tags: flowers, orange blossom, Citrus sinesis, floriography

Motherwort – The Daily Flower for 25 January

Lion’s ears, lion’s tails. One shouldn’t imagine that pulling them would be good for the heart – and least of all for ‘female weakness and disorders’. Well, not if one were thinking too literally.

Motherwort by Doctor Swan

Lion’s ear and Lion’s tail also refer to Leonotis leonurus (a.k.a. Leonurus cardiaca), the bitter-tasting herb that’s long been used as a cardiac tonic and menopausal medicine.

From this, it’s easy to glean how the pink-blossomed plant came to be known as motherwort, but what of the leonine connection? It’s got nothing to do with taming beasts, but rather with appearances: take a look at the shape of the fuzzy leaves. How it connotes ‘concealed love’, however, shall have to remain mysterious... unless it's something to do with heartache?

Good for giving to: Soothing mothers with hidden passions.

Great motherworts in literature:

He had a word
for that—we all do—but no
word for a woman's shoulders
as she rises from her bed
in the darkness, no word even
for the warm darkness smelling
of one ocean and the seven
rivers that surround the heart,
no word for the wind flattening
the motherwort that grows at
its ease in the public squares
or along the cracked curbing
on Delancey Street, the wind
bringing hope in the morning
and carrying off our exhaust
as the light goes each evening.
From ‘Joe Gould’s Pen’ by Philip Levine

Tags: flowers, Motherwort, Leonurus cardiaca, Leonotis leonurus, floriography

Oak Leaf – The Daily Flower for 24 January

Thanks to Tina and Ike, most people have heard of Nutbush City, Tennessee. Somehow, the little town of Oak Leaf, Texas, (population 1,209 in the year 2000) didn’t quite become the same kind of household name. Far better, it unwittingly became a gardenhold name.

Oak leaf by herschel_rubinstein

Named after the foliage of the noble Quercus tree, this little town must have quite a bit going for it. First off, the genus name Quercus is said to be derived from the Celtic words quer (fine) and cuez (tree), suggesting more than a bit of alright. Secondly, oak leaves are said to connote ‘welcome’ and ‘bravery’ in floriography, meaning a great public perception of a conurbation of courageous and convivial citizens. And, thirdly, as anyone with a smidgen of military savoir-faire will know, an oak leaf cluster is a medallion of sorts that designates the wearer has been awarded the honour more than once. Something to be proud of, indeed.

Good for giving to: Brave hosts.

Great oak leaves in literature: Welcoming, courageous or just plain helpful?:

The elements, however, abetted me in making a path through the deepest snow in the woods, for when I had once gone through the wind blew the oak leaves into my tracks, where they lodged, and by absorbing the rays of the sun melted the snow, and so not only made a my bed for my feet, but in the night their dark line was my guide.
From Walden & on the Duty of Civil Disobedience  by Henry David Thoreau

Tags: flowers, oak leaf, Quercus, floriography

Black Nightshade – The Daily Flower for 23 January

Soundgarden’s not the kind of band one would immediately associate with flowers – although given their jardinesque moniker, perhaps that’s a silly mistake. There are certainly ways of interpreting their lyrics that suggest a penchant for petals.

Black hole sun
Won’t you come
And wash away the rain
Black hole sun
Won’t you come
Won’t you come

A plea for relief from a some strange solar body? Or to Solanum nigrum, the black nightshade or sunberry?

Whichever name you choose to give this purportedly poisonous flower (and there are plenty more to choose from, including morella, garden huckleberry and wonderberry), there’s little doubt that it has some soothing medicinal properties if administered in the right amount. Bohemian babies’ slumber was aided by the leaves, while those in the rest of the world had the pain of their ‘yellow rain’ washed away with a Solanum nigrum nappy rash ointment.

Black nightshade

If you’re a bit wary about coming too close to black nightshades, though, fear not: you can still enjoy them from afar. The clusters of little white star-shaped flowers are really quite eye-catching.

Good for giving to: The nightshade family Solanaceae is said to connote 'warning' and 'fact' in floriography, so perhaps to anyone that needs to pay heed to some dark truths.

Great black nightshades in literature: Rather fittingly, the gloomy Poe seems to have taken a shine to the black nightshade in his prose story ‘Morella’.

Tags: flowers, black nightshade, Solanum nigrum, floriography

Mullein – The Daily Flower for 22 January

Unlike in zoology, in botany there’s not even a hair’s breadth of a difference between a Hare’s Beard and a Lamb’s Ear. Nope, not even a small, soft, flannel-like downy hair, much like the ones that give mullein its velutinous sheen.

That’s because Hare’s Beard is Lamb’s Ear. It’s also Shepherd’s Club, Flannel Leaf, Jacob’s Staff and a plethora of other curious names that refer to the hirsute herb Verbascum thapsus.

Mullein (Verbascum thapsus)

The hairy biennial isn’t just fuzzy of leaf, but rather furry of flower covering, too. But once in bloom, mulleins attract far more attention to their densely-packed flower spikes of little bright-yellow blossoms than to their rosettes of dusky-green leaves. Although, if you do insist on ignoring either the flowers or the leaves, mullein won’t mind – it connotes ‘good nature’ in floriography, after all.

Good for giving to:Asthma sufferers and unproductive coughers.

Great mulleins in literature: A complaisant declaration?:

I am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a bumblebee.
From Walden & on the Duty of Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau

Tags: flowers, Mullein, Verbascum thapsus, floriography

Sage – The Daily Flower for 19 January

If you’re going to fall in love, it would be wise to do it with someone who felt the same way about you. Is that the message that we’re to construe from sage, connoter of wisdom and mutual love in floriography?

Sage by tanakawho

It’s not too tricky to see how the Victorians struck upon wisdom as the signified meaning of Salvia officinalis: this healing plant has long been revered as mooty for the mind (and a clever cure for other ailments such as digestive disorders).

But what of this ‘mutual love’ lark? This is clutching at straws (or, rather, at aromatic green needle-like leaves), but perhaps it was a dodgy floriographic pun playing on the two-lipped corollas of the little lilacy-blue flowers. You’re bound to come up with a better explanation…

Good for giving to: Sagittarians.

Great sages in literature: Put to good medicinal use in tea form:

“Take her right up, Alec; I’ve got the hot water ready, and after a nice bath, she shall have a cup of my sage tea, and be rolled up in blankets to sleep off her cold,” answered the old lady, cheerily, as she bustled away to give orders.
From Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott

Tags: flowers, sage, Salvia officinalis, floriography

Rue – The Daily Flower for 18 January

In the botanical playground, the common rue flower has good reason to be sorry – for itself, that is. This is a result of its rather regrettable name: Ruta graveolens. Non-Latin-speakers might not think much of this, but anyone with a pollex verdis and a penchant for etymology will know that this moniker is just a grandiloquent way of saying stinky.

Ruta graveolens (source: www.biolib.de)

Someone must’ve felt a bit sorry for little miss Rue (actually, that could equally be little master rue – the flowers are hermaphrodite), since, in less poncy circles, the evergreen shrub is dubbed the more genteel ‘Herb of Grace’.

Perhaps this is how the flower came to connote changeable disposition in floriography. Or perhaps it was the fact that the bitter-tasting plant makes a great seasoning unless you overindulge in it, at which point it turns nasty toxic. Most undependable indeed.

Good for giving to: Fickle stinkers.

Great rues in literature: Virgil remarks on one of rue’s medicinal properties:

He then the garden entered, first when there
With fingers having lightly dug the earth
Away, he garlic roots with fibres thick,
And four of them doth pull; he after that
Desires the parsley’s graceful foliage,
And stiffness-causing rue, and, trembling on
Their slender thread, the coriander seeds,
From ‘The Salad’

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, rue, Ruta graveolens, herb of grace, floriography

Rosemary – The Daily Flower for 17 January

If Sarah Woodruff had been a flower instead of a disgraced woman, she would have been rosemary. There’s something a bit French Lieutenant’s Womanish about this shrubby herb with its spiky aromatic leaves and small flowers the colour of watery eyes looking longingly out to sea and holding a quiet dialogue with Mnemosyne.

Or maybe that’s just a convenient mental image evoked by the knowledge that the botanical name Rosmarinus officinalis is derived from the Latin words ros, meaning dew, and marinus, meaning sea. Not to mention that this mint-family member was used to connote remembrance in floriography.

Rosmarinus officinalis by jam343

Good for giving to: Hirsute amnesiacs with dandruff (rosemary’s purported to make an excellent hair tonic and banish seborrheic scurf).

Great rosemaries in literature: Ophelia’s rather unforgettable line:

There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.
From Hamlet, Prince of Denmark by William Shakespeare

Tags: flowers, rosemary, Rosmarinus officinalis, floriography

Yarrow – The Daily Flower for 16 January

Heartache? Is this another example of the Victorians’ penchant for euphemisms? Sores, scrapes, haemorrhoids and headaches, perhaps, but not heartache. The steroids and tannins in yarrows make the plant an excellent healing herb, but you really do have to draw the line somewhere.

Or perhaps it's not so much the curative properties as the mythological qualities that inspired this floriographic connotation of the Achillea millefolium flower. Purported to bloom from the grave of Confucius, the yarrow plant with its corymbs of tiny white flowers is strongly associated with divinity: the dried stalks are thrown to cast the I Ching. Although whether that’s how one cures the heartache is rather open to question.

Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) by bcanna

Good for giving to: Broken-hearted mystics.

Great yarrows in literature: Hinting at mystical beauty:

The yarrow's beauty: fools may laugh,
And yet the fields without it
Were shorne of half their comfort, half
Their magic--who can doubt it?.
From 'Yarrow' by Archibald Lampman (1861-1899)

Tags: flowers, yarrow, Achillea millefolium, floriography

Marigold – The Daily Flower for 15 January

Marigold: the name instantly conjures a rich yellow hue. Oh, how obvious we English speakers are, with our names that point to the reference rather than the sense. Fortunately, we can always rely on the French for a bit more subtlety and romance.

In the language of love (viva La France), Calendula officinalis is better known as souci des jardins: care of the gardens. In the language of flowers, the daisy family’s golden child is rumoured to connote a number of concerns: pain, cruely, grief and sorrow. Quite uncanny.

Calendula officinalis by Dorocia

As delightful as it is to entertain these etymological etiologies, the floriographic connotations of the marigold are more likely derived from the plant’s medicinal properties. You can make calendula tea to ease the pain of ulcers, or a topical salve from their crowns of cheese-coloured petals to soothe burns.

Good for giving to: Grunge-rock fans.

Great marigolds in literature: Their saffron tones colour more than just foodstuffs and fabrics:

To the west a dark church spire rose up against a marigold sky.
From Anne Of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Tags: flowers, marigold, Calendula officinalis, floriography

Lemon Blossom – The Daily Flower for 12 January

Lemon
See through in the sunlight
She wore lemon
But never in the daylight
She's gonna make you cry
She's gonna make you whisper and moan
And when you're dry
She draws her water from the stone
…
She wore lemon
To colour in the cold grey night
She had heaven
And she held on so tight
From ‘Lemon’ by U2 (Zooropa)

Who’d’ve thought that floriography was so rock’n’roll? In Victorian times, the waxy, five-petalled white blossoms of the lemon tree were seen as tokens of fidelity, prudence and discretion; today, they seem to connote much the same in U2’s ballad to Citrus limon.

She had heaven, and she held on so tight (fidelity) … when you’re dry, she draws her water from the stone (prudence) … she wore lemon, but never in the daylight (discretion).

Lemon blossom by jessicafm

Just in case all that gushy stuff bores you, you here are two dependable, forethoughtful and tactful lemon blossom facts: you can eat them, and they appear on lemon trees at the same time as lemons do. Fascinating.

Good for giving to: Faithfully discreet economists.

Great lemon blossoms in literature:

And the air came in with lemon blossom fingers
To touch those sleeping faces:
A thousand years of air, months, weeks of air...
These came with gentle footstep hurricanes
Cleansing the lonely precinct of the stone.
From ‘Macchu Picchu’ by Pablo Neruda

Tags: flowers, lemon blossom, Citrus limon, floriography

Heather – The Daily Flower for 11 January

A common sweeper who, although isolated, embodies beauty and commands admiration – sounds a bit like our old friend Cinderella. Although flower fans with a good grasp of Latin and a familiarity with the Victorian language of flowers will know this description is equally fitting for Calluna vulgaris, more commonly known as heather or ling.

Heather by bc anna

The complicit skivvy of the fictional ugly step-sisters was rumoured to have spent hours with her arms in the dishwater, and, as such, was probably no stranger to lime – but the Ericaceae-family flower puts its foot down in this respect: it’s a calcifuge. And as for glass slippers, well, the closest it gets is dainty clusters of purple bell-shaped blossoms. Fortunately, they still look fabulous after midnight.

Good for giving to: Laudable loners with luscious looks.

Great heathers in literature: A romantic edge to the flower that was seemingly unexplored in floriography:

“Speaking of romance,” said Priscilla, “we’ve been looking for heather -- but, of course, we couldn’t find any.”
From Anne of The Island by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Tags: flowers, heather, Calluna vulgaris, floriography

Dead Leaves – The Daily Flower for 10 January

There’s a yellowing mist of sadness that cloaks the hunchbacked landscape of small towns. Especially those ones that slightly wayward adolescent girls at exclusive schools tend to inhabit. Every slam of a luxury sedan door seems to seal their fate as chattels to a postmodern malaise. It’s only when they venture into the rancid underbelly on the outskirts of the suburban facades that they find out what sorrow really is. Like the poem she got from her new black-nailed friend who told her how clothes hung on him like dead leaves after the first rains of winter. That’s when she knew her love had ended. When she realised the beauty that sadness could bring.

Dead leaves by yashima

Good for giving to: Skinny despondents and wretched lovelessers.

Great dead leaves in literature: The human condition 150 years earlier:

“Vacantly I walked beside her.
On the earth mine eyes were cast;
Swift and keen there came unto me
Bitter memories of the past--
On me, like the rain in Autumn
On the dead leaves, cold and fast.”
From 'The Village Street' by Edgar Allan Poe

Rather keep the love going? Try the romantic flowers category page on our Serenata Flowers website.

Tags: flowers, Dead leaves, floriography

Lavender – The Daily Flower for 9 January

“Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green,
When I am king, dilly, dilly, you shall be queen.
Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?
’Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so.”

If the floriographic connotation of Lavandula angustifolia (nee Lavandula officinalis) is anything to go by, the lovers in this English folk song must’ve never quite made it to the throne together. Since the Victorian era, the spikes of headily scented little purple flowers were given as a reminder not to trust our dilly dilly hearts.

Spanish lavender by debaird

Good for giving to: Sufferers of sleepless nights and a lack of appetite

Great lavenders in literature: Should we distrust this advice?:

“As a little sprig of lavender will perfume a queen's wardrobe, so will a short year of love keep sweet a long life.”
From The Quest of the Golden Girl by Richard le Gallienne

Fancy sending some lavender-coloured flowers? Try the blue flowers category page on our Serenata Flowers website.

Tags: flowers, Lavandula angustifolia, Lavandula officinalis, lavender, floriography

Laburnum – The Daily Flower for 8 January

Such a pity that Dial ‘M’ for murder sounds so much more catchy than dial ‘360’ for toxic termination, although the latter does have a certain ring to it. And what a great Agatha Christie story it could have made… that old London dialling code for Winchmore Hill was commonly referred to as LABurnum, the sweet-pea family tree with a deadly edge.

Even the floriographic connotations of Laburnum anagyroides can add to the plot of our Big Smoke thriller: the story begins with a ‘pensive beauty’ who’s too soon ‘forsaken’ by her lover; ‘darkness’ must follow.

Alas, glamour would be entirely absent from the climax. Death by laburnum is not a pretty sight – convulsions, vomiting, frothing mouth. And who would have thought it, looking at the ebony-trunked tree’s pendulous racemes of yellow blossoms? Well, they say it’s always the quiet ones you should watch out for…

Laburnum tree by Gaetan Lee

Good for giving to: North-London nemeses.

Great laburnums in literature: Dostoyevsky, the good squire, has kindly written the treatment for the opening credits of the film version:

“Beside the margin a derelict barrel would be turning over and over in the water; a switch of laburnum, with yellowing leaves, would go meandering through the reeds; and a belated gull would flutter up, dive again into the cold depths, rise once more, and disappear into the mist.”
From Poor Folk by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Tags: flowers, laburnum, Laburnum anagyroides, floriography

Hydrangea – The Daily Flower for 5 January

Remember, remember, the fifth of… nope, that would be January, not November, if you’re a hydrangea fan. For that is the floriographic connotation of these gorgeous ‘water barrels’.

Blue hydrangea by tanakawho

Whether of the wild, mop-head or lace-cape variety, hydrangreas need plenty of water to keep their clusters of little white, pink, purply and even green flower starlets smiling (the colour is often determined by the pH balance of the soil).

Pink hydrangea by zenera

That goes for cut flowers as much as garden flowers – with good looking after, hydrangea hand-ties can last up to two weeks. But don’t worry if you haven’t got green fingers; they make excellent dried flowers as well.

Apple Blossom hydrangea hand-tie from Serenata Flowers

Good for giving to: People with knots in their handkerchiefs.

Great hydrangeas in literature: Much to the horror of flower lovers the world over:

“He did not want to hear about hydrangeas, why they change their colour at the seaside.”
From A Room With A View by E. M. Forster

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, hydrangea, floriography

Cactus – The Daily Flower for 3 January

There’s a little town in the middle of Texas. Nope, not Paris, Texas… but the name will prickle your memory just as much. I’m talkin’ ’bout Cactus, Texas.

According to the 2000 census, 68.0% of the town’s population were married couples living together. So maybe it’s not just the members of the Cactaceae family that are associated with ‘ardent love’, the cactus plant’s floriographic connotation.

For the plants, that’s a seemingly apt association: most succulents are spiny rather than spineless, after all. But that’s about where the similarities end, as this amazing collection of cactus flower photographs proves.

Cactus bloom by macrophile

Good for giving to: Men, apparently.

Great cactuses in literature: More than just big, big love:

“The latter forms part of the Unyamwezy, a magnificent country, where the trees attain enormous dimensions; among them the cactus, which grows to gigantic size.”
From Five Weeks in a Balloon by  Jules Verne

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, cactus flower, floriography