Pollen Nation

Asparagus Fern – The Daily Flower for 18 May

PROFILE: #180507              Classification level 8

REAL NAME: Asparagus setaceus

KNOWN ALIASES: Asparagus Fern, Asparagus plumosus, Plumosa fern, Emerald feather

LAST KNOWN WHEREABOUTS: Most active in homeland, South Africa, but frequent confirmed sightings in Europe and North America.

OCCUPATION: House martian/Noxious weed

KNOWN INFORMATION: Adopts guise of fern, but what appear to be harmless leaves are dangerously sharp short branches called cladoles. Inconspicuous white flowers. Carries concealed magenta berries. Sometimes confused for maidenhair fern.

MISC. INTELLIGENCE: Connotes ‘secrecy’ in floriography.

Asparagus fern by audreyjm529

Good for giving to: Confidentialists.

Tags: flowers, Asparagus fern, Asparagus setaceus, floriography

Common Thistle – The Daily Flower for 17 May

Thistles, whether Scotch or not, are rather tricky to understand. At first glance, they look rather similar: spiky leaved, purple flowered (or pappused, if you’re being particular) plants… but on closer inspection, the common thistle Cirsium vulgare has more feather-like bristles than the firm bristles of the Scotch thistle Onopordum acanthium. And since they’re of different genuses, different connotations in the language of flowers naturally follows. Rather than ‘retaliation’, ‘austerity’ is the floriographic meaning of the common thistle. No laughing, now. Even when you discover that eating the root of the common thistle also causes flatulence.

Common thistle by nalilo

Wanting a spiky bouquet? Thistle do. (Conatins Eryngium, which is actually 'sea holly' and just looks like thistle).

Good for giving to: Ascetics.

Great common thistles in literature:

A thistle grows about here which has needles on it that would pierce through leather, I think; if one touches you, you can find relief in nothing but profanity.

From The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain

Tags: flowers, Common thistle, Cirsium vulgare, floriography

Syringia – The Daily Flower for 16 May

You can remember, remember the 5th of November, but how will you ‘remember me’? I’ll give you a sprig of Philadelphus lewisii, that’s how.

It’s not that this citrus-scented white blossom is particularly memorable or evocative per se; rather, it’s a bit of a pretender. Looking and smelling like an orange blossom, it is unsurprisingly known as the mock orange. Looking and smelling nothing like lilacs, those true species of the Syringa genus, it is surprisingly also known as syrignia.

So, even though I gave you one flower, you’ll remember me when you see one of three.

Painting of Philadelphus lewisii by Mary E. Eaton.

But how will you spot a real mock orange? There are four easy ways: each flower has four petals; the petals are up to 4cm in length; and if you take four leaves and rub them in your hands they’ll foam up like soap. And the fourth way? Just ask an Idahoian – syrignia is their national flower.

Can't find a mock orange? There are plenty of other memorable flowers fresh for the picking at Serenata Flowers.

Good for giving to: Forgetful types.

Great syringias in literature: Fond memories?:

In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
fused in one sound
that mounts and mounts and then
is split into the old selves,
the tired antagonisms. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.

From 'Mock Orange' by Louise Glück

Tags: flowers, mock orange, syringia, Philadelphus+lewisii, floriography

Sweet William – The Daily Flower for 15 May

‘William, William, it was really nothing’ opined the great miserablist of a William who sounds both sweet (poor fellow’s been dragged down by his humdrum town) and treacherous (what, exactly, was ‘really nothing’?). A paradox? It won’t be the first involving a beloved Billy with a bent for betrayal. The flower Sweet William is said to connote treachery in floriography. (And, of course, there’s the infamous Billy Liar.)

Perhaps this connotation is an example of theory in practice; who’s fooling who, when we learn that this clove-scented flower also connotes gallantry, ‘will you smile’ and finesse? Well, great characters mean all things to all people, they say, and Sweet William’s botanical binomial, Dianthus barbatus, which translates roughly as the bearded divine flower, suggests it’s quite a character indeed.

Will you smile? You bet, when you see Artemus chewing Sweet William by Dr. Hemmert

To add to the duplicity, there are almost as many etyological myths as connotations behind Sweet William’s common name. The bright pink, red, purple, white or variegated blossoms are rumoured in some circles to be named after an archetypal folkloric fop, and in others after William of York, the Duke of Cumberland and even William the Conqueror. Perhaps there’s a connotation for each of these possible namesakes.

Good for giving to: Cats and charlatans.

Great Sweet Williams in literature: A scent of cloves:

Too quick despairer, wherefore wilt thou go?
Soon will the high Midsummer pomps come on,
Soon will the musk carnations break and swell,
Soon shall we have gold-dusted snapdragon,
Sweet-William with his homely cottage-smell,
And stocks in fragrant blow;

From 'Thyrsis' by Thomas Arnold

Tags: flowers, Sweet William, Dianthus barbatus, floriography

Venetian Sumach – The Daily Flower for 14 May

Smoking is to be rated in US films. Well, if floriography were filmography, Rhus Cotinus (a.k.a. Cotinus coggygria) would be Humphrey Bogart, playing Venetian Sumach instead of Sam Spade: the smoke plant vis a vis the smoking detective. And if the smoking rating were indeed retroactive, today’s plant would probably come with a PG certificate.

Why so? Well, let’s examine it against the three questions the Motion Picture Association uses to determine whether a film warrants a certification: “Is smoking pervasive in the film, does it glamorise the act, and is there a historic or other mitigating context?”

First off, this Southern European shrub-of-a-gun is perpetually puffing, or at least gives the impression that it is – hence the nickname ‘smoke tree’. Arguably, it’s not tobacco fumes that are billowing about its blue green leaves, but panicles of wispy stalks that look very much like cigarette billows. But, like many smokers, Rhus cotinus is well known for its yellow stains; the root is much sought after by tanners.

Moody, smoky, cool – Cotinus coggygria/Smoke plant by tanakawho

As for glamourising the act of smoking, well, this didn’t become a garden favourite for nothing, you know. And there’s definitely some subliminal messaging going on: in the language of flowers, Venetian sumach connotes ‘intellectual greatness’.

At a push, the plant might escape a rating on the grounds of ‘mitigating context’. After all, it’s a smoker by nature, not nurture. Nothing to get puffed up about, then.

Good for giving to: Detectives. And anyone else before 1 July 2007.

Tags: flowers, smoke plant, Rhus cotinus, Cotinus coggygria, Venetian sumach, floriography

Rhododendron – The Daily Flower for 11 May

Hackney – home to London’s ‘Murder Mile’. But don’t go thinking this hood’s bad reputation is a new thing. Danger’s been rife out there since way back in 1763, when the notorious Conrad Joachim Loddiges was packing pontis and causing havoc in the back yards of the borough’s streets.

Young CJ’s crime was more horticultural than homicidal, however. He was the fellow who introduced the much maligned Rhododendron ponticums to the sceptred isle. Despite boasting bling amethyst blossoms and emerald leaves, the evergreen shrub is deemed a shady character by conservationists. Apparently, it  has a habit of blocking the sun, preventing indigenous plants from growing. Quite prescient of the Victorian floriographers to accord it the meaning ‘danger’.

Rhododendron ponticum by Grey Wulf

Good for giving to: Bees, if you believe the story of funny honey.

Great rhododendrons in literature: A portent?

We had passed between the white posts of a gate and up a curving drive, lined with rhododendron bushes.

From The Poison Belt by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Tags: flowers, Rhododendron ponticum, rhododendron, floriography

Red Poppy – The Daily Flower for 10 May

Waking from a slumber induced by the white poppy of 8 May, the dapper floriographer (who’d been modelling himself on a certain Mr De Quincey of late) was saddened to discover he’d missed the day of the snowball (his thoughts yesterday were most certainly not of heaven) and so, reaching over, plucked himself a bright red poppy and decreed it a ‘consolation’ (thinking no-one would notice that this red flower differed only in colour and not in species from the white Papaver somniferum and that the true nature of his consolation would thus go undetected).

Red poppy by SuperFantastic

Good for giving to: Those who came close, but got no cigar.

Not good for giving to: Remembrance day supporters; they prefer Papaver rhoeas, the red corn poppy.

Great red poppies in literature:

Poppies whose roots are in men's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe,
Just a little white with the dust.

From 'Break of Day in the Trenches' by Isaac Rosenberg

Cool red poppy links:

For humanitarian Pablo Neruda fans

Tags: flowers, red poppy, snowball, Papaver somniferum, floriography

Snowball – The Daily Flower for 9 May

If imagining the plus sides of an afterlife has your thoughts tumbling out of control at a rapid pace, fear not: snowballing is commonly associated with ‘thoughts of heaven’. Except, as this association occurs in the field of floriography, the snowballs in question are not verbs, but sand verbena.

Don’t be fooled by that synonym, however; although snowball bears spheres of sweet-scented blossoms that look like white versions of verbena’s tiny trumpets, its binomials Abronia elliptica and Abronia fragrans suggest a rather different heritage.

Sand verbena by Ron

Although the genus name is derived from the Greek word ‘abros’ meaning ‘delicate’, ingesting the ground root of the snowball plant was believed to have quite the opposite effect on the figure. Maybe it should have connoted ‘thoughts of food’. But then, culinariness is next to godliness, isn’t it? Or something like that.

Good for giving to: Saints and skinnymalinkses.

Tags: flowers, Sand verbena, snowball, Abronia elliptica, Abronia fragrans, floriography

White Poppy – The Daily Flower for 8 May

Morphine, narcotine, codeine, thebaine, narceine, papaverine, codamine, roeadine. One wonders whether the white coat of a well-stocked chemist could boast this litany of chemicals, but there’s no doubt that the white poppy does.

There’s something slightly soporific about the list of alkaloids found in Papaver somniferum, and it’s not just their somnolent sounds. This is indeed the opium poppy, which aptly connotes ‘sleep’ in floriography.

Papaver somniferum by Pablo Alberto Salguero Quiles

Wanting white flowers without the side effects? Our freesias, tulips and roses will do the trick.

Good for giving to: Those who would sleep perchance to dream. And peaceniks.

Great white poppies in literature: Dreamy, peaceful imagery from the haiku master Basho

On the white poppy,
a butterfly’s torn wing
is a keepsake
From The Essential Basho trans. Sam Hamill

Tags: flowers, white poppy, Papaver somniferum, floriography

Myrtle – The Daily Flower for 4 May

Anyone who’s more au fait with Rowling than Homer might think there was some uneven-handed dealings going on amongst the gods of ancient Greece. How, they may ask, did the lazy Bacchus score the vine, when the charming Aphrodite got lumbered with myrtle?

Myrtle, in Aphrodite’s case, is a far cry from the moaning miss that wallows and wails in the washrooms of Hogwarts school. The goddess of love is associated not with Mlle communal ablution facilities, but with M. communis, the starry-flowered Mediterranean shrub.

Unlike the fictional character Myrtle, myrtle has a gorgeous myrrh-like perfume and is a floriographic cipher for ‘heartfelt love’. And rather than a smooth head with two pigtails, the five-petalled inflorescences covered with dozens of stamens look more like their hair’s standing on end. Well, if love is blind, heartfelt love is blinder still.

Flowers of Myrtle (Myrtus communis L.) emitted in second flowering by Giancarlo Dessì

Just in case you’re still not convinced that the myrtle has more charms than the vine, consider that the Sardinians make an intoxicating drink from it that far outweighs the merits of wine.

Good for giving to: Not-so-secret pashes.

Great myrtle in literature:

Wreathed in myrtle, my sword I'll conceal
Like those champions devoted and brave,
When they plunged in the tyrant their steel,
And to Athens deliverance gave.

From ‘Hymn To Aristogeiton and Harmodius’ by Edgar Allan Poe (1827)

Tags: flowers, myrtle, Myrtus+communis, Moaning Myrtle, floriography

May Rose – The Daily Flower for 3 May

Forget about gathering nuts in May; this is the month for gathering cinnamon – not the spice, though, but the rose.

Alas, those wanting to recapture the scent of Eastery hot-cross buns will have to get their olfactory fix elsewhere. Rosa cinnamomea (a.k.a R. majalis, or, in lay terms, the Cinnamon rose and May rose) is so called not because of its smell, but because of the colour of its stems.

But fear not, ye of sugary hankerings. The May rose may not be good enough to smell, but it’s certainly good enough to eat. With petals that are used to pep up jam, there’s little wonder that this pinky-purple beauty is said to connote ‘vigour’ in floriography.

Rosa majalis (Rosa cinnamomea) from Prof. Dr. Otto Wilhelm Thomé Flora von Deutschland, Österreich und der Schweiz 1885

Good for giving to: Anyone in need of a pick-me-up.

Great May roses in literature: We thought it didn’t smell like cinnamon… and inspired vigour, not sighs:

The rare perfume of the cinnamon-rose,
The breath of all the garden grows;
The twitter of swallows, cooing of doves,
And alas! perhaps a sigh for dead-loves!

From ‘Country Children’ by Mary Tenney Gray

Tags: flowers, May rose, Cinnamon rose, Rosa majalis, Rosa cinnamomea, floriography

Chickweed – The Daily Flower for 2 May

There must’ve been little difference between yesterday and today for Captain Floriography. There’s certainly not much difference between the American starwort and the common chickweed.

Stellaria media by m-louis

On a connotative level, it’s surprising that the ‘welcome’-bidding Stellaria Americana of yesterday wasn’t the flower for today, and that today’s Stellaria media, which whispers ‘Will you meet me?’, wasn’t given the May Day spot. Wouldn’t you rather know that you’d be well received before you committed to getting together?

Well, since that’s not possible, those who drop a sprig of chickweed through the letterbox of a would-be-lover and find themselves itching for the answer – and prickled by the prospect that the answer might be procacious – can find respite in rubbing the little white-flowered plant on their skin.

Good for giving to: Rendezvousers.

(Not-so-)Great chickweed in literature:

This naivete is the opening of the soul to the sun of chaos, and the soul may be open like a lily or a dandelion or a deadly nightshade or a rather paltry chickweed flower, and it will be poetry of its own sort. But open it must.

From 'Introduction to Harry Crosby's Chariot Of The Sun' by D.H. Lawrence

Tags: flowers, American starwort, Stellaria media, floriography

American Starwort – The Daily Flower for 1 May

Under the spotlights, under the flare
Of white starry petals, you know that you’re there –
There where you’re ‘welcome’ in suit or pyjama
‘Cos that is the message of Stellaria americana.

Stellaria holostea by Nova (Stellaria americana all out being welcoming, alas).

Good for giving to: Good hosts. And nice guests.

Tags: flowers, American starwort, Stellaria americana, floriography