Pollen Nation

Dandelion – The Daily Flower for 27 September

If the dande in dandelion were actually derived from dandy, coquetry would be a most apt floriographic connotation for this flower. Alas, it’s a taming of the French for ‘lion’s tooth’ – which must surely be a description of the serrated leaves of Taraxacum officinale.

Dandelion with raindrops by tanakawho

There are arguably other leonine features of this daisy-family flower. The rosette of golden petals eventually becomes a fluffy white mane of filaments that we know as a dandelion clock.

Blowing on the orb of seeds is meant to tell the time, but one would do far better to observe the flower in its yellow-petalled form, for it’s wont to close at night, and, as such, is likely to be a more accurate means of determining the hour.

Following their popularity as clocks, dandelions are probably best-known as an ingredient in dandelion wine. Fans of the little yellow floral rosettes who are of more sober habit may be pleased to know they can indulge in dandelion without getting tipsy – the flowers can also be used to make jam.

Good for giving to: Roaring Romeos.

Great dandelions in literature: Peter Panner J.M. Barrie describes the man behind Queen Mab’s chair:

“Lord Chamberlain, who carries a dandelion on which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know the time”
From The Little White Bird

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Tags: flowers, dandelion, Taraxacum officinale, floriography

Dock – The Daily Flower for 26 September

Here’s a cunning plant; a master of disguise. As well as bearing unremarkable little clusters of flowers, it managed to get itself reclassified as a sorrel in the Rumex genus. Not such a biggie, you might think, until you discover that there’s quite a bit of difference between the two.

Rumex crispus (curled dock), one of the docks originally classified in the genus Lapathum,

According to Mrs M. Grieve’s A Modern Herbal, dock flowers are hermaphrodite, while sorrel flowers have stamens and pistils on different plants. To further confuse us, the plant’s greenish flowers are a far cry from the brownish orange colour known as sorrel. No wonder the floriographers accorded dock the meaning ‘shrewdness’.

Good for giving to: Dear Prudences.

Great docks in literature: There are numerous references to the plant called sorrel, but far fewer to the classic dock:

“Nor were their ornaments like those in use to-day, set off by Tyrian purple, and silk tortured in endless fashions, but the wreathed leaves of the green dock and ivy, wherewith they went as bravely and becomingly decked as our Court dames with all the rare and far-fetched artifices that idle curiosity has taught them.”
From Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes

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Tags: flowers, dock, Rumex, sorrel, floriography

Crocus – The Daily Flower for 25 September

Don’t confuse autumn-flowering crocus with the autumn crocus. That latter Naked Lady, a.k.a. Colchicum autumnale, most certainly doesn’t connote ‘I am his’. Crocus sativus, however, does.

Crocus angustifolius by Zeynel Cebeci

While Crocus sativus and some other varieties of the Eurasian herb do look rather like Naked Ladies in colour, others, such as Crocus angustifolius, are quite distinct with their showy golden petals that have earned them sobriquets such as cloth-of-gold.

Crocuses and colours are quite confusing. Crocatus is Latin for saffron yellow, so, was the botanical name inspired by the cup-shaped petals of angustifolius, or by the golden stigmas of the purple-blossomed sativus, from which the sought-after spice is obtained?

And just to add to the confusion, the word crocus also refers to a colour that’s described as ‘a grayish to light reddish purple’. Maybe ‘I am his’ was the Victorians’ way of giving some sense of decisiveness to this complicated flower.

Good for giving to: Yellow-bellied coquettes.

Great crocuses in literature: Homer provides an alternative theory for why the cowslip’d (that’s still to do with the bull):

“So he came down and changed himself into a bull and breathed from his mouth a crocus.”
From Collection Of Hesiod, Homer and Homerica

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Tags: flowers, crocus, Crocus angustifolius, Crocus sativus, floriography

Cress – The Daily Flower for 24 September

Perceptions must’ve been wont for changing in the 1800s, if cress (or cresses as it was called back in the day) is anything to go by. For in the annals of floriography, this little member or the mustard family has connoted variously ‘roving’, ‘stability’ and ‘power’.

Lepidium sativum

Power’s one that’s easy to understand – not only is cress prized by kitchen gurus for its potent peppery flavour, but the botanical name Lepidium sativum translates roughly as a cultivated little scale, which sounds a bit like another way of describing justice or, rather, a legal system.

Cress doesn’t pack much punch in the body, though. Whether the golden- or green-leaved variety, at 0 calories per 100g, it’s the kind of thing Posh must go wild for.

The flowers of the cress plant are almost as miniscule as its calorific value. Petal colour can vary from white to pink, but their size rarely extends beyond a couple of millimetres in length.

Good for giving to: Nomadic dieters with a Napoleon complex.

Great cress in literature: Fondly remembered by E.M. Forester:

“Her hat, which was flowery, resembled those punnets, covered with flannel, which we sowed with mustard and cress in our childhood, and which germinated here yes, and there no.”
From Howards End

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Tags: flowers, cress, Lepidium sativum, floriography

Ivy Sprig – The Daily Flower for 23 September

Ginseng’s renowned as a stress-buster, so it’s quite curious that the Victorians considered the closely related ivy sprig to be a symbol of anxiety. Not nail-biting stuff, really; just an anxiety to please.

Hedera hibernica by Júlio Reis

That’s not the only floriographic connotation of the ivy sprig, however. A spray of Hedera hibernica (which translates as Irish ivy, although some call the plant Atlantic ivy) is also said to connote both affection and longings.

Ivy sprigs are better known for their rich emerald palmate leaves than they are for their blossoms. A possible explanation for this is that sprigs with five-pointed leaves don’t bear any – you need to look for the unlobed leaves if you’re hoping to find ivy flowers.

Don’t expect anything too fancy though, for they’re somewhat unremarkable clusters of tiny greeny-yellow or whitish flowers. They are pollen packed late in the season, though, and much sought after by insects.

Good for giving to: Fancy typesetters (they are sure to be fond of the hedera dingbat ❧).

Great ivy sprigs flowers in literature: One wonders which floriographic connotation Virginia Woolf had in mind:

“‘Katharine, Katharine,’ he said aloud, and then, looking round, saw Mary walking slowly away from him, tearing a long spray of ivy from the trees as she passed them.”
From Night and Day

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Tags: flowers, ivy, Hedera hibernica, floriography

Cowslip – The Daily Flower for 22 September

Why did the cowslip? Because it saw the bullrush. Well, that’s what the kids in the playground assert. But the Victorians suspected the little yellow primrose to have lost its balance for another reason, it seems – dreaminess. Or why else did they attribute it the meaning ‘pensiveness’ in floriography?

Primula veris by Rasbak

There are actually a number of plausible hypotheses: because the Eurasian beauty’s sweet fragrance evokes poetic thoughts; because its umbels of golden rosettes were contemplating their mysterious close cousin the scarlet pimpernel; because it was navel-gazingly admiring the rubine spots on its petals; or, more likely, because it was tripping on its own juices, which are the key ingredient in cowslip wine.

Those with a knack for languages are unlikely to entertain such romantic speculations, however. They know that the common name of Primula veris probably had nothing to do with losing one’s footing. A far more plausible theory is that cowslip is a bastardisation of cow’s leek, a derivation from the Anglo-Saxon word leac meaning plant.

Good for giving to: Unsteady dreamers.

Great cowslips in literature: A thought-provoking quotation from a Victorian novelist:

“‘Smile like the knot of cowslips on the cliff,
Not to be come at by the willing hand.’”
From Middlemarch by George Eliot

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Tags: flowers, cowslip, Primula veris,  floriography

Corn – The Daily Flower for 21 September

Silks and tassels sound more like something you’d encounter in the courts of law than on the lawns of corn, which is where they’re actually found.

Maize plant, Zea mays by burgkirsch

They’re not what you might expect, either. A silk is actually a female flower of the corn plant (Zea mays), referencing the wispy stiles that look more like the hair of Dougal from the Magic Roundabout than silk. Tassels are the male flowers that carry the pollen.

In a neat little mathematical trick, corn flowers prove that 1+1=1. How, you ask? Simple: each pollinated silk develops into a single corn kernel. Keen to argue the logic? Just wave your corn flower to let everyone know – in floriography, they connote ‘quarrel’.

Good for giving to: Wrangling maize-munchers and bickering number crunchers.

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Tags: flowers, corn, Zea mays, floriography

Hop – The Daily Flower for 20 September

It smells amazing. Its essential oils are highly sought after. It stops weird things growing in your beer. It’s got a great sense of direction (how many social climbers do you know who only move in a clockwise direction?). It’s even used to make a dye. With so many good things going for it, the hop plant need hardly worry about the fact that it’s not exactly a looker.

Humulus lupulus, female inflorescence, by Bernd Haynold

The Victorians saw things differently, though, I think. They’ve assigned Humulus lupulus the connotation of ‘injustice’. And since the bine is so mighty fine in other respects, they could only have done so in the belief that it was a divine injustice to make such a useful plant so spectacularly unremarkable looking.

Or maybe the injustice is in the fact that a single hop plant can only bear either male or female flowers. But the Victorians would probably have like that kind of segregation, so I’ll stick with my aesthetic aspersions. Unless, of course, it’s something to do with the fact that the hop flower, that sneaky little willow wolf, is a member of then the Cannabaceae family…

Good for giving to: Lager louts and others who are unfairly discriminated against.

Great hop flowers in literature: Every beer is a liquid ode to this flower.

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Tags: flowers, hops, Humulus lupulus, floriography

Cabbage – The Daily Flower for 19 September

Fie indeed! What flower did the Victorians intend by cabbage? Did they mean the cabbage flower, a particular daylily from the genus Hemerocallis? Did they mean the stinky Symplocarpus foetidus, a.k.a. the skunk cabbage flower? Or, more simply, did they mean that little-noted inflorescence that grows on species in the Brassica genus?

Brassica oleracea var. acephala by Chuuken Hachigou

Perhaps the solution is to attempt a logical deduction from the floriographic connotation of cabbage, which is recorded as ‘self-willed’. And ‘profit’. Hmmm, unlikely to be the one with the rank smell or the one with the pretty frills. So, it must be Brassica oleracea var. acephala, the flowering wild cabbage.

To stand out from the greenery, unlike the boxwood flower, cabbage flowers are both brightly coloured and numerous. The four little saffron-tinted petals form a golden cross, which look rather dashing against the purplish leaves.

Good for giving to: Headstrong entrepreneurs.

Great flowering cabbages in literature: Who knows whether O. Henry is talking about the fumes of boiled leaves or the scent of delicate petals?

“In Cypher’s she belonged--in the bacon smoke, the cabbage perfume, the grand, Wagnerian chorus of hurled ironstone china and rattling casters.”
From The Four Million (not Cabbages And Kings!)

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Tags: flowers, cabbage, Brassica oleracea, floriography

Chrysanthemum – The Daily Flower for 18 September

Most often spotted at service stations and other such insalubrious spots, chrysanthemums are nonetheless rather regal flowers. Well, at least some of the varieties in this numerous-specied genus in the Asteraceae family are. And not just the ‘golden flowers’ which gave chrysanthemums their botanical name.

Shamrock green chrysanthemums in our Summer Meadow arrangement

The flowers are particularly admired in China, where the official Emperor’s crest is called the kikukamonshō, which translates as Chrysanthemum Crest. But be wary of surprising eastern royals with a bunch of whites, which are apparently a symbol of lament in in the People’s Republic.

Chrysanthemums are actually attributed various meanings according to their colours. White mostly seems to be a symbol of truth, pink and red are for those in love, and yellow is for slighted lovers (curious how yellows often form the crux of most tacky supermarket bouquets). Victorian floriographers had a much less complicated approach – they simply saw the flowers as symbols of cheerfulness.

An array of new varieties (pom-poms, decorative, miniature) and colours (including the gorgeous shamrock green) have made their way into the world of floristry and become popular stalwarts because of their longevity. Except in Malta, one would imagine, if there’s any truth in the rumour that the island inhabitants consider chrysanthemums indoors to be a portent of bad luck.

Good for giving to: People who need a little laughter and happiness in their home, if you believe the Feng Shuists theories.

Great chrysanthemums in literature: Stephen Crane’s character turns up his nose at the fancy-pants petals:

“Above all things he despised obvious Christians and ciphers with the chrysanthemums of aristocracy in their button-holes.”
From Maggie: A Girl of the Streets

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Tags: flowers, chrysanthemum, floriography

Boxwood Flower – The Daily Flower for 17 September

Are stoics just those who’re waiting to be noticed? The flower of the boxwood tree, which connotes stoicism in floriography, certainly fits that description.

Buxus semperviren by Prof. Dr. Otto Wilhelm Thomé (Flora von Deutschland, Österreich und der Schweiz)

The Buxus semperviren tree itself is fairly well known in topiary circles, but the flowers are more often than not described as inconspicuous.

Scale and colour are certainly not on their side: tiny and usually a greenish-yellow hue, it’s little wonder they’re hardly remarked upon, or even noticed. But sure as Zeno, they’ll keep growing without making a fuss about it.

Good for giving to: Dispassionate pugilists.

Great boxwoods in literature: La-di-da bushwork in Willa Cather’s My Antonia:

“He felt his way through the lilacs, along the boxwood hedge, up to the south wing of the Big House, where Miss Nellie d'Arnault practised the piano every morning.”

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Tags: flowers, boxwood, Buxus semperviren, floriography

Adonis – The Daily Flower for 16 September

A pheasant’s eye and a dashing young man are seldom seen together in a list of beautiful things. Unless, of course, the compiler of said list is a botanical savant who knows that the two can be one in the same thing.

Adonis annua by Alberto Salguero

Adonis annua, the pretty little scarlet flower from the buttercup family, is commonly referred to as pheasant’s eye, but it has a string of other names that allude to Aphrodite’s handsome young beau who met a sticky end on a boar’s tusk.

A dark central spot, black anthers and deep red petals make it easy to understand how mythmakers saw fit to say the flower sprang from drops of blood. In France, the flower is named Goute de sang, while, in other parts of the world, it’s dubbed Love lies bleeding.

The Victorians must have empathised with poor Aphrodite when they were doling out floriographic connotations. Although, come to think of it, one was perhaps more likely to want to express ‘sorrowful recollections’ than ‘bird’s eye view’ in the language of flowers.

Good for giving to: Melodramatic mistresses.

Great Adonises in literature: Buttercup-lover William Wordsworth composed a whole poem in honour of the flower:

“You call it, Love lies bleeding, – so you may,
Though the red Flower, not prostrate, only droops,
As we have seen it here from day to day,
From month to month, life passing not away:
A flower how rich in sadness! [...]”
From ‘Love Lies Bleeding’

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Tags: flowers, Adonis, Adonis annua, Love lies bleeding, Pheasant’s eye, floriography

Pincushion Protea – The Daily Flower for 15 September

Fancy a bit of fireworks? The Pincushion protea should really be the flower of the day for 5 November, if looks are anything to go by.

Pincushion proteas and calla lilies in Serenata Flower’s Karma Sumatra hand-tie

The bright-red and orange inflorescences of Leucospermum cordifolium (which roughly translates as white-seeded and with heart-shaped leaves) are actually comprised of lots of little flowers whose upright styles are the colourful ‘pins’ that give the plant its common name.

Indigenous to South Africa, the Pincushion protea doesn’t seem to have been considered by the Victorian floriographers. If they’d thought about it, though, chances are they would have chosen a meaning such as ‘needling’ or ‘explosive’.

Good for giving to: Pyrotechnicians and South Africans (the protea is their national flower).

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Tags: flowers, Pincushion protea, Leucospermum cordifolium, floriography

Angelica – The Daily Flower for 14 September

Here’s a conundrum: do we call chartreuse a ‘spirit’ because it’s flavoured by Angelica, a.k.a. Holy Ghost, or is that how Angelica archangelica acquired its common name?

Angelica archangelica from Koehler's Medicinal-Plants 1887

Most probably neither. And it’s probably also just a coincidence that the umbels of tiny yellow-green flowers are coloured so similarly to the liqueur. It’s no coincidence, though, that angelica is sometimes called wild celery or wild parsnip: the aromatic plant is a culinary favourite and great salad ingredient.

Angelica is also a popular medicinal herb, used to make reviving tonics and to get rid of flatulence, colic and cramps. You could call it an inspired floral friend; the Victorians certainly did – or, at any rate, assigned it the floriographic connotation of ‘inspiration’.

Good for giving to: Bland boozers in need of a muse.

Great angelicas in literature: Jack London is probably talking about the aquavit, not the flower, but it must be one that’s flavoured by the Holy Ghost:

“Down in the bottom of a deep locker he found a dozen bottles of angelica and muscatel.”
From John Barleycorn

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Tags: flowers, angelica, Angelica archangelica, floriography

Love in a Puzzle – The Daily Flower for 13 September

Say hello to the kitchen garden goddess who adds seductive flavour to breads and cakes. Nope, not Ms Lawson, but another much-admired Nigella: Nigella damascena.

Nigella damascena by microbophile

Unlike today’s flower, the author of Feast most likely isn’t refered to as Devil in the Bush, Love in a Snarl, or even Love in a Puzzle by her friends, but she doesn’t suffer from split ends. Neither does Love in a Puzzle, really, but the flower acquired its common names from the tatty hair-like bracts that encase it.

Neither is Love in a Puzzle as dark and mysterious in its features as the celebrity chef. The word Nigella does come from the Latin word for black, but the colour is a reference to the plant’s seeds rather than its watery blue sepals.

It’s tricky to see how the Victorians associated this lovely flower from the buttercup family with faux pas, but let’s hope it’s the only Nigella that will be synonymous with ‘embarrassment’.

Good for giving to: Unconfidential kitcheners.

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Tags: flowers, Love in a Puzzle, Nigella damascena, floriography

Jonquil – The Daily Flower for 12 September

Is it a bit of a cheek featuring the jonquil as a separate flower to the daffodil? They certainly look rather alike.

Narcissus jonquilla by pancakeman157

The American Daffodil Society society would probably be inclined to agree. According to their classification system, jonquils refer exclusively to species in division 7 and 10: Narcissus jonquilla and its hybrids.

Floriographers are also keen to split hairs – or meanings at least. Jonquils connote longings, while daffodils mean chivalry and unrequited love.

But how does one spot the difference, especially since jonquils are the same size and buttery yellow or white colour as many other narcissi flowers? Well, it’s said that these southern European natives exude a stronger citrussy scent, but the real difference is in the leaves. Jonquilla is derived from a Latin word for reed, a reference to the flower’s distinctive foliage.

Good for giving to: Wistful ones.

Great jonquils in literature: A jaundiced eye on these particular narcissi courtesy of Mr Wilde:

“Summer followed summer, and the yellow jonquils bloomed and died many times, and nights of horror repeated the story of their shame, but he was unchanged.”
From The Picture Of Dorian Gray

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Tags: flowers, jonquil, Narcissus jonquilla , floriography

Cranberry Flower – The Daily Flower for 11 September

Shooting the breeze while sipping on a Sea Breeze may be the way for modern ladies of leisure to alleviate their sorrows, but it’s by no means a contemporary method. Cranberry juice cocktails are just today’s equivalent of the cranberry flower – considered by the Victorians to connote a cure for heartache.

Vaccinium oxycoccos by BerndH

Vaccinium oxycoccus (which combines the ancient Latin words for a bilberry and an acid berry) is probably better known for its sharp- and dry-tasting pinkish berries, but the flowers themselves are rather lovely in their range of pinkish hues with their folding petals.

It’s believed that the word cranberry is an adaptation of craneberry – a name which the plant is said to have acquired either because the berries were favoured by cranes, or because the little 5-cm long flowers atop their stalks are somewhat avian in appearance. Given the colour, flamingoberry would have been far more fun.

Good for giving to: Birds who are feeling blue.

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Tags: flowers, cranberry, Vaccinium oxycoccus, floriography

Balm of Gilead – The Daily Flower for 10 September

This little mint family member, Cedronella canariensis, looks nothing like either a cedar or a canary.

Cedronella canariensis by Stan Shebs

The flowers do appear in clusters that could be described as cone-like, but their delicate lilac, pinkish or white petals are a far cry from songbird yellow. Rather, cedronella refers to the cedar-like scent of the plant, and canariensis alludes to one of the geographic locations where the flower can be found.

Balm of Gilead’s lovely scent makes it a popular ingredient in pot-porri – indeed, the menthol aroma is probably what inspired people to use it to treat coughs. With this medicinal heritage, it’s no surprise that floriographers considered the flower a symbol of relief.

Good for giving to: Smokers of menthol cigarettes.

Great Balm of Gileads in literature: Mark Twain finds them a useful analogy:

“She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with ‘hell following after.’ But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors.”
From Tom Sawyer

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Tags: flowers, Balm of Gilead, Cedronella canariensis, floriography

Monkshood – The Daily Flower for 9 September

Monkshood, Friar’s Cap, Friar’s Cowl, Helmet Flower, Soldier’s Helmet, Auld Wife’s Huid – Aconitum napellus is certainly a very heady flower. And not just in name and appearance, but in nature.

Aconitum napellus by Stan Shebs

With a hat-like shape created by an overhanging upper sepal, this little turnip of unconquerable poison, as the botanical name roughly translates, is indeed highly toxic. It was allegedly used to poison predatory beasts (including human ones), which gave rise to such other synonyms as wolfsbane, and indubitably informed the floriographic connotations of danger, misanthropy and the presence of a deadly foe.

Curiously, the Victorians also conferred the almost contradictory connotations of chivalry and gallantry on the clusters of these deep violet flowers from the buttercup family. Hmmm, was this because of their shape, or because poisoning people was considered somehow valiant?

Good for giving to: malicious milliners.

Great monkshoods in literature: Hats off to the inimitable modernist writer for combining all aspects of the flower’s headiness in this description:

“The Queen’s Hotel, Ennis, county Clare, where Rudolph Bloom (Rudolf Virag) died on the evening of the 27 June 1886, at some hour unstated, in consequence of an overdose of monkshood (aconite) selfadministered in the form of a neuralgic liniment composed of 2 parts of aconite liniment to 1 of chloroform liniment (purchased by him at 10.20 a.m. on the morning of 27 June 1886 at the medical hall of Francis Dennehy, 17 Church street, Ennis) after having, though not in consequence of having, purchased at 3.15 p.m. on the afternoon of 27 June 1886 a new boater straw hat, extra smart (after having, though not in consequence of having, purchased at the hour and in the place aforesaid, the toxin aforesaid), at the general drapery store of James Cullen, 4 Main street, Ennis.”
From Ulysses by James Joyce

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Tags: flowers, monkshood, wolfsbane, Aconitum napellus, floriography

Madder – The Daily Flower for 8 September

Anyone who wields a brush with artistic intent will be familiar with today’s flower. Madder is a colour favoured by painters of men who’ve been drinking or arguing – kind of burst-corpuscle red. But those hog-hair honchos may be surprised to see that the madder flower is in fact yellow.

Rubia tinctorum from Koehler's Medicinal-Plants 1887

It’s the root of rubia tinctorum that’s used to make the red dye described in its botanical name. The star-shaped flowers are a little like burst blood vessels, though, in their smallness (just a few millimetres across) if not their colour. And their floriographic meaning also corroborates – what better temper raiser than slander?

Good for giving to: Gossipmongers.

Great madders in literature: We couldn’t find any, but please let us know if we’re useless at sleuthing.

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Tags: flowers, madder, Rubia tinctorum, floriography

Lily of the Valley – The Daily Flower for 7 September

Imagine if Paris Hilton were called Chastity Wittier. That’s a bit what it’s like for lily of the valley. It’s not really a lily, if you define lilies as belonging to the genus lilium, and it’s more commonly found in woods. True, lily of valley is also found in valleys, but so has the hotel heiress taken a vow of celibacy for a year.

Lily of the valley by bc anna

Like Paris, lily of the valley isn’t known for its exploits in just a single field.

Its racemes of little nodding bell-shaped flowers in pearly white are model pretty, complete with six scalloped edges – the plant-world equivalent of a retroussé nose.

Lily of the valley also has its own lovely perfume (which doesn’t only appeal to our noses) and works a sideline in tugging on the heart. No, not as an actor, but as a cardiac tonic, which apparently has a similar but milder effect to the one made from foxgloves.

What’s more, in floriography, the lily of valley represents ‘return of happiness’, which sounds like it could have been a B-side to the single ‘Stars are Blind’.

Good for giving to: Finns (it’s their national flower) and convalescing saddos.

Great lilies of the valley in literature Not only beautiful, but scented – and useful, too, in W. Somerset Maugham’s analogy:

“I don’t care a damn for morality: teaching doesn't come in, ethics and all that, but passion and emotion. The greatest portrait painters have painted both, man and the intention of his soul; Rembrandt and El Greco; it’s only the second-raters who’ve only painted man. A lily of the valley would be lovely even if it didn’t smell, but it’s more lovely because it has perfume.”
From Of Human Bondage

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Tags: flowers, lily of the valley, Convallaria majalis, floriography

White Rose Bud – The Daily Flower for 6 September

Too young to marry, the white rose bud means; too many to mention the flower fan screams. From Atomics to Zeiss White Polies, there are probably almost as many cultivars of white roses as there are underage brides. But the one that stands out as the most perfectly white is the Avalanche rose.

Mass of white Avalanche roses from Serenata Flowers

Ice white and boasting a high count of glacial petals, Rosa floribunda ‘Avalanche’ is named for its snowy resemblance – although the overwhelming tumbling of pure emotions experienced by recipients is fast becoming a folkloric alternative to this etymology.

Despite its lengthy vase life and large, many-petalled infloresence (which, in some big-headed, full-bloomed blossoms can apparently reach up to 15 cm across), Avalanche roses are only mildly scented, which is quite curious considering that the sweet-scented tea rose is not too distant a relative.

Good for giving to: Teenage fiancées.

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Tags: flowers, white rose bud, Rosa floribunda, Avalanche rose, floriography

Sensitive Plant – The Daily Flower for 5 September

Brazilians have got rhythm. And I don’t just mean the people. Mimosa pudica may translate as a bashful mimic, but on the grassy dancefloor it’s a different story.

Sleeping grass by eye of einstein (Alan L)

A change in the weather, a sudden breeze, a naked flame, the onset of the evening – almost any excuse will do for Sensitive Plant to shake its fern-like leafy booty (or enagage in thigmonasty and seismonasty, if you prefer more technical terms). Even just a gentle poke in the pinnules will cause the leaflets to fold inward and wiggle down, putting many a passista to shame.

Admittedly, the Sensitive Plant’s leaves take a little longer to reverse the conga-line – anything from a thirty minutes to all night, which could explain why it’s sometimes called Sleeping Grass, or why the flower stands for despondency in floriography.

Although the pink pom-pom floret is more of a wallflower than the boogielicious leaves, it’s quite a looker, and keeps in the spirit of things with a carnivalesque headdress of hundreds of inch-long lavender filaments tipped with bright red. But looking so spiffing is tiring work, so you won’t see this puffball beauty hanging around for longer than a day.

Good for giving to: Anybody unhappy about being overly hirsute (Sensitive Plant contains mimosene, a substance purported to induce hairloss in mammals).

Great Sensitive Plants in literature Shelley saw fit to compose a whole ode on the mysterious ways in which Sensitive Plant moves:

A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light.
And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.
From ‘The Sensitive Plant’

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, Sensitive Plant, Sleeping Grass, Mimosa pudica, floriography

Hoya – The Daily Flower for 4 September

Ever come across a tribute band that outshines the originals? The Wax Dolls may have been a headline act at the 1 September floral rock fest, but the Wax Vines are really the ones you should be watching.

Hoya by Josef Stuefer

More trellis climbers than chart climbers, these sweet-scented little floral stars from Southern Asia are of the same botanical class as wax dolls, but of quite a different order: Gentianales.

Hoya carnosa, the moniker by which the common Wax Vine or hoya is officially known, is said to be a tribute in itself. The plant is allegedly named after a green-fingered fellow who was in the employ of the Duke of Northumberland: Thomas Hoyn. A chubby chap he may have been, but the descriptor carnosa, from the Latin for fleshy, here refers directly to the leaves of the wax vine.

Lardy leaves are one thing, but it’s the flowers of the hoya that are really its best feature. Every summer, the plant produces umbels of gorgeous 1-cm wide flowers, remarkable in that their calyx, corolla and corona are all perfect, five-pointed stars.

Although the flowers look like a cat’s rough tongue in the picture above, they’re more typically thought to resemble fine bone china, to the extent that Porcelain Flower is yet another hoyan epithet.

Harder to explain is the hoya flower’s meaning in floriography: sculpture. Nope, not ‘you are a sculpture’, or ‘you demand to be sculpted’, just ‘sculpture’. Can’t quite imagine why the Victorians would be compelled to convey such a message through the language of flowers, but they must have had their reasons.

Good for giving to: Those with a heart of stone (and possibly also a leg, arm, head and body of some hewable material).

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, hoya, Hoya carnosa, wax vine, porcelain flower, floriography

Hepatica – The Daily Flower for 3 September

Wouldn’t you be confident if you were as charming as the beautiful blue hepatica with its striking white stamens?

Hepatica nobilis by color line

Even the pink and the pure white hepatica nobilis flowers have an air of dignified self-assurance. They may be small at only three quarters of an inch in diameter, but they look quite striking indeed: each hairy stem of this buttercup family plant holds a single, proud flower head.

Not everyone found hepatica flowers so attractive, however. Someone long ago thought little enough of their beauty to mash them up. But perhaps this person just wanted to prove that hepaticas were useful as well as beautiful; they succeeded: the flowers work very effectively as an astringent.

Good for giving to: People with poise (and an acerbic tongue).

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, hepatica, Hepatica nobilis, liverleaf, floriography

Helenium – The Daily Flower for 2 September

Sunshine yellows are usually associated with happiness, so it seems strange that this bright-rayed member of the daisy family is so intimately connected with sadness – not just floriographically, but botanically.

Helenium autumnale (Asteraceae) by Kabir Bakie

Helenium autumnale was named after Helen of Troy, from whose tears these vivid flowers with their three-lobed petals and spherical golden or burnt umber disc are said to have grown. Unlike Helen, however, helenium is a native of the new world, where it’s also known (rather unsurprisingly) as Helen’s Flower and (slightly more imaginatively) dogtooth daisy.

Whether in typical yellow or the more unusual red, orange, or maroon, helenium petals can be made into a snuff that’s purported to relieve colds. The sniffles it causes have earned the flower yet another nickname: sneezeweed. Perhaps Linnaeus got it wrong – Helen wasn’t really lachrymose, her eyes were just watering from inhaling too much snuff.

Good for giving to: Dry-eyed heartbreakers.

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, helenium, sneezeweed, dogtooth daisy, floriography

Fumitory – The Daily Flower for 1 September

Earth Smoke, Vapor, Beggary, Fumus, Wax Dolls – the list of synonyms for fumitory sounds like the line-up for a Scandinavian rock fest.

Common fumitory by Bill Tyne

From a distance, the world looks blue and green…  no, hold on, that’s not very rock ’n’ roll is it? Hardcore or not, the leaves of Fumaria officinalis, however, do appear blue and green. But in a rather cool, power-chorded smoke-machine effect kind of way, hence the herb’s hazier common names.   

Unlike the leaves, the flowers of the fumitory plant are less metal and more prog,  or, if you prefer, bright-lipsticked groupies to the guitar slashin’ leaves. Racemes of up to 50 little doll-like flowers – tubular, spurred and with deep purple tips – dance off the stems.

It’s easy to imagine how a Rolling Stones concert would discomfort the Victorians, and from there, it’s not difficult to arrive at their floriographic association for the fumitory flower: ill at ease. The Irish were a little less skeptical than their English neighbours though, and, according to folklore, polishing your shoes regularly with fumitory would bring you the rub of the green in pecuniary matters.

Good for giving to: Edgy metalheads with empty pockets.

Great fumitories in literature: Was John Clare talking about their money magnetism, or that other myth, in which fumitory is said to ward off evil spirits?:

“And fumitory too a name
That superstition holds to fame
Whose red and purple mottled flowers
Are cropt by maids in weeding hours.”
From ‘May’

Find out more about The Daily Flower series and floriography.

Tags: flowers, fumitory, Fumaria officinalis, earth smoke, floriography