Human Flower Project

Monday, July 30, 2007

Plant Names as Portals to Knowledge

Much as we love the imagery of “baby’s breath,” now we’re determined to call it Gypsophila paniculata, too. James Wandersee and Renee Clary provide a friendly guide to botanical names and a rationale for using them. Thank you so much, Jim and Renee. For us and for others who write about plants, it’s bookmark time.

By James H. Wandersee and Renee M. Clary
EarthScholars™ Research Group

Think of a plant’s name as a key, one that unlocks the gate to the accumulated human knowledge about that tree or flower. A particular rose seen in the open forest may smell as sweet no matter what we call it, but if you want to move beyond appreciating its fragrance to finding out more about that flower, you need to know that its favored common name is the Woods’ rose (named after Joseph Woods) and its botanical name is Rosa woodsii Lindl.

Woods’ rose (Rosa woodsii Lindl. )
Photo: Utah State University

When you were young, you no doubt learned via social interaction, and without much conscious effort, to identify some of the plants that surrounded you. But the names that you learned were common names—rose, tulip, grass, lily, clover, corn, snapdragon, evergreen tree. Indeed, all of us began our exploration of the Plant Kingdom by learning the vernacular (common) names of plants.  As long as we were communicating with people within our immediate surroundings, those names sufficed.

However, as a reader of the Human Flower Project, you are exposed to plants from other regions, cultures, nations, and continents. Because of those four variables, it is possible for a single plant to have hundreds of different common names, which can thwart effective communication and hinder understanding of the world’s plant life (flora). The Woods’ rose, for example, is also known as the western wild rose or the mountain rose or the fragrant rose, depending upon where you live in the US.

While the plethora of common plant names may be fascinating to linguists, folklorists, and anthropologists, it is utterly frustrating for those of us interested in the free global exchange of plant information in the 21st century. Happily, there are two accepted systems for the unambiguous and accurate naming of wild and human-selected and propagated plants, worldwide—one for botanical names (International Code of Botanical Nomenclature) and one for cultivated plants (International Code of Nomenclature for Cultivated Plants). Here we shall focus on the former.

Systems for assigning unique and concise names to plants date back to 1753 when the Swedish botanist Carolus Linnaeus (formerly, Carl von Linne) assigned two-part Latin names to all the known plant species, in his 1753 book, Species Plantarum. 

1762 edition of Species Plantarum
Photo: NC State University Library

It can take a lifetime to learn all the nuances of botanical naming (and there are important exceptions to some rules), but here are a few key elements of naming plants today.
• Besides having a common name(s), every plant has been assigned a two-part botanical name known as its species name. For example, the date palm’s botanical species name is Phoenix dactylifera L. Botanical names are always italicized in print or underlined in handwriting. Example: Phoenix dactylifera L.
• The first part of the species name is called the generic name (or genus name).  Its first letter is always capitalized, such as in Phoenix. By the way, the plural of “genus” is “genera.”
• The second part of the species name is called the plant’s specific epithet, such as dactylifera.  The first letter of the specific epithet is always typed in lowercase, even if it is derived from a proper noun like America, such as in Fraxinus americana (white ash). The species names of all plants have two parts like this (There is no Cher, Madonna, or Prince in the botanical world.)
• There may or may not be an abbreviation following the species name.  The L. after the species name of the date palm (Phoenix dactylifera L.) signals that the authority for their names (i.e., their namer) was the famous Swedish botanist, Linnaeus. Such authority abbreviations are not to be italicized. If there are two authoritative abbreviations following the species name, the first represents the original namer, and the second is the person responsible for the plant’s current name.

Date Palm (Phoenix dactylifera L.)
Photo: Egyptian Palm Trees

• In the case of the date palm, Phoenix dactylifera L., its generic name was already used by Theophrastus (the father of botany, c. 300 BCE) and comes from phoenix = Phoenician, because the Phoenicians were credited with spreading these plants throughout the Mediterranean region. Its specific epithet is an amalgam of dactylus = date, and fero = “I bear”, that is, “date-bearing.”
• No two plants can have the same botanical name, although you may see the same specific epithets reused for different genus names. For example Syringa vulgaris is common lilac and Phaseolus vulgaris L. the common bush bean.
• The word species is both singular and plural. “Prance and Beenjie (2000) estimated that there are 320,000 plant species” (plural), and “Ornamental plants marketed under the name European wand loosestrife and purple loosestrife are in fact members of the same species” (singular).
• When you use a botanical name repeatedly in the same article, type the full botanical name the first time it appears; thereafter, you can use only the capitalized first letter of the generic name plus a period in place of the entire generic name and omit the authority. Thus Rosa woodsii Lindl., once introduced, becomes R. woodsii in subsequent usages.  If you want to refer to several species of roses, you can simply type Rosa spp.
• Species names sometimes have varietal, subspecific or forma epithets that indicate a particular botanical subcategory. Example: Mentha spicata L. var. viridis (which is the ‘Ganga’ mint plant). The epithets themselves are italicized, but the abbreviations “var.” or “subsp.” or “f.” never are.
• Plant species names may be changed over time to reflect increased scientific understanding, so always make sure you are using the currently accepted botanical name when searching for information. Be forewarned, too, that the botanical names (if present) on the labels of commercially marketed plants are often inaccurate.
• A major problem with using common names is that most of the world’s plants either have no common name or they don’t have equivalent names in other languages.
• While plant people often balk at using botanical names because they are Latinized, long, and polysyllabic, they probably already use some botanical names as common names--like fuchsia, chrysanthemum, aster, palm, and rhododendron.
• A cautionary note: The naming of (a) hybrids resulting from the crossing of two species; (b) cultivated plant varieties (cultivars); (c) plants registered under Plant Breeders Rights; (d) trademarked plants; and (e) especially, cultivated orchids, follows more complex rules. These matters are beyond the scope of this article.
• A good way to further your knowledge of plant naming is to consult the 4th edition of The Names of Plants by David Gledhill (Cambridge University Press, 2007).

Finally, there are many plant species that once lived on Earth that are no longer alive today. Fossils can provide us with a glimpse of some of these extinct plants. There must have been millions of plant species that existed throughout the Earth’s history that are now extinct.  Kaspar Maria (Count) von Sternberg of Bohemia (c. 1818) was the first paleobotanist (fossil plant scientist) and the standard authority abbreviation “Sternb.” is still applied to fossil plant species that he described and named.

Naming fossil plants is an investigative challenge because fossils of entire plants are rarely found. Plants naturally break into pieces while they are alive and fragment even more during fossilization. Not all plants in a given plant community are equally likely to be included in the fossil record, either. Just as animals with hard parts such as shells or bones tend to be better preserved in the fossil record, fossilization processes also favor large or woody plants that have more resistant tissues, over small herbs. (The botanical definition of an “herb” is a seed-producing annual, biennial, or perennial plant that does not develop persistent woody tissue but dies down at the end of a growing season—which differs from the definition used by herbalists.)

One of the largest plant fossils ever found
Scale tree (12 ft. x 13 ft.) from Pella, Iowa
Photo: National Museum of Natural History

Genus names are often applied without species identification when scientists are uncertain about the species name of a plant fossil. The Kentucky Geological Survey notes that “Paleontologists classify and identify fossils based on their shapes. “ Comparison with existing plants’ parts can be a big help. For example, two ample collections of cleared leaves at the Smithsonian Institution and Yale University provide some of the best comparative material for studying fossil leaf vein patterns using the 410 families of today’s flowering plants.  Knowledge of the geological context in which a plant fossil was found is also essential.

Scientific comparison is not only the basis of trustworthy plant science, but also of the appropriate identification and naming of plants—extant or extinct. 

Just as human parents agonize over the most suitable name for their offspring, botanical naming is not taken lightly. Botanists must first build a scientific case for an appropriate botanical name before it can be approved by the International Botanical Congress, which meets once every six years. There is a story behind almost every plant name listed in the Appendices of the International Code of Botanical Nomenclature (ICBN), which is many pages larger than the Code itself. This database documents the steps that plant naming proposals go through, so that anyone can trace the history of every proposed botanical name.

In short, what value is knowing a plant’s current botanical name? It’s your priceless international key to the library of accumulated plant wisdom!

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Fireweed: Countdown to Winter

In parts of Alaska, the fireweed bloom casts the date for winter. That’s right: just two months away.

Fireweed in flower, motivating Alaskans
Photo: Kim Lehman and Mark Wieland

“Here is the deal,” writes Fish Taxi, blogging from Valdez, Alaska. “Once the Fireweed blooms to the top and goes to seed we have six weeks ‘til winter. How it looks today we have two months. Give or take a few blooming days.” That’ll be “take,” since she made this prognostication on July 25th.

Epilobium angustifolium grows up to 8 feet tall and seems to inspire Alaskans with a huge range of emotions—elation, industriousness, melancholy, dread.

put together a fine essay about ”summer’s clock,” from which we quote liberally.

“Sometime this month, when the plant reaches a height of a foot or two, the first blossoms will emerge several inches below the tip. As summer progresses, the petals will climb continuously higher. When they reach the tip, summer is all but over. For me it’s like when the villain in a B movie inverts the hourglass and challenges the hero to complete his task before the sands run out....

“A patch of fireweed lines my driveway and, every night, whether I am returning from work or a family outing, I gauge the distance between the highest bloom and the top of the plant. It often prompts a moment of reflection: Have I made good use of the day? Can I complete that long to-do list before summer’s end?

Halfrack the cat
ponders the fireweed
Photo: Fish Taxi

“More than once I’ve glanced at the shrinking gap between bloom and tip and skipped watching TV in favor of a hike up the valley with Melissa. Or I’ve forgone dinner and thrown the float tube into the truck to spend the evening casting for trout in a glassy lake. The fireweed is a compelling signal to get out and do something, because when bloom reaches tip and the plant goes cottony with seed, I know the wind that will spread next year’s crop of fireweed will soon bear winter’s first flakes of snow.”

Fish Taxi, like many fellow Alaskans, has been “compelled” to make fireweed honey, and passes along Marilyn’s recipe. Here’s also Kim Lehman’s recipe, which we can vouch for, not having prepared it but having swallowed it. Delicious, strong and distinctive.

Here in Central Texas, where winter is something of a myth, it’s hard to believe that people in our hemisphere are looking for—and seeing—signs of impending snow. Our September is usually crispy hot though it is about the time when our own weather-casting oxblood lilies often bloom, announcing that the first cold front is on its way.

All you phenologists, please inform us of the flowering plants you read to know when to turn off the TV, how far off the winter is—or the fall—or when the Democrats will take back the White House.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

The Fluman Beings of New Zealand

The Arts Festival of Christchurch sprouts with human-floral hybrids.

Inflated orchids and animated ‘rose windows’
will come alive for the next two weeks
Image: Christchurch Arts Festival

A dear friend’s final wish was to visit New Zealand. And she made it, traveling from Texas to the Southern Hemisphere and the other side of the globe near the end of her days.

Now we are beginning to feel the pull. From what she told us and the (very) little we’ve seen and read, it seems that human New Zealanders are especially in tune with the plant world, not perhaps such great horticulturists as the Dutch or gardeners like the English or floral chefs like the Malaysians. Rather it’s as if they were part plant themselves, a little bit of chlorophyll dripping into the kiwi DNA.

Someday we’ll read up about Maori religion and better understand where this mystical sympathy comes from. Perhaps. It would be better just to go there, as our friend did, and meet these 6-foot, ambulatory flowers face to face. At four continents’ distance, we still can sense New Zealand’s “flumanity” via the Christchurch Arts Festival, which began today. Showing at Plantae Oceaniae are Jo Torr’s works, inspired by the 18th Century embroidery of Capt. James Cook’s wife; Torr has embellished a waistcoat with images of the first botanical specimens collected on Cook’s Pacific explorations.

Warwick Bell’s ‘Snow Orchids’
now blooming in Christchurch, NZ
Photo: David Hallett, for the Press

Multimedia artists Aaron and Hannah Beehre will be projecting a ”Winter Rose” over the city cathedral’s Rose Window, a “flower” continually created by the bustle of people in the square below. Also, for Cathedral Square, Warwick Bell has designed huge buds of snow orchids which will “bloom” for the next 18 days—the duration of the festival. These look to us particularly like people dressed in flower costumes (a New Zealand pastime we’ve written of before). Bragging a bit on his own creation, Bell said, “It’s quite technically difficult to do. You’ve got this huge bulb head with a skinny stem holding it up, “

Well, right, Warwick. Some of us manage that every day!

For the many performances and exhibitions between now and August 12, the biennial’s organisers are expecting more than 175,000 people. And we’re supposing that a good third of them will have sepals.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Waltz of the Flowered Dresses

A museum in the U.K. pulls apart a century of floral outfits, prissy, frumpy, and almost funky.

Mini-dress from the 1960s
with anemones and dandelions
Photo: Floral Frocks

Floral attire has been around a long time, since just after Eve grabbed for a fig leaf, we suspect. The Fashion Museum in Bath, England, hasn’t sent its historical researchers back quite that far, but they have mounted what appears to be an interesting exhibition—Pick of the Bunch—that looks at flowered dresses since about 1920.

The museum’s manger Rosemary Harden announced, “Every summer for the last 100 years or so, generations of British women have chosen to wear floral printed frocks for both the everyday and the special occasions in their lives. We are really thrilled that we have had the chance to present an exhibition on this area of fashion history, which we know will strike a chord.”

Queen Elizabeth II in flowered dress
visiting Adelaide, Australia, 1954
Photo: National Museum of Australia

While we’re no experts in couture, its strikes us that the emphasis on English dresses is—while perhaps of sociological and cultural interest—rather dowdy. The online exhibit features clothing suitable for affluent milkmaids. It’s not that we have anything against milkmaids, but where are the razzle-dazzle contemporary designs, the big kooky blooms of “Swinging London, “ or even preppy pink and greens of Lilly Pulitzer?

Lilly Pulitzer fans
tend to run in packs
Photo: Lilly Pulitzer

Check out the Floral Frocks website for what’s there and what’s missing. The exhibition is strong on its history of fabrics, patterns, printing-techniques and dyes. And if you’re near Bath, catch the show, which is up through August 27th. “On Saturday 4 August, visitors wearing a floral frock or floral shirt or tie will be able to gain half price admission to the display.” We presume that fig leaves will qualify you for the discount also.

Of course, the designers and curators who composed the website pound on several staples (ouch!) of fashion advice. Here’s one: “Better to go for bold, abstract or painterly styles. If you can identify the specific variety of rose in a print, it belongs in a gardener’s handbook.” We must disagree! A well executed print of chrysanthemums, lilies or violets on fabric is not only an achievement but a delight—one that’s sustained many a child through a long homily. We can only hope that the lady in the next pew—or ahead of us in line at the post office—will be wearing this number from 1949, on view both at the museum and via its online exhibition: the only garment we’ve ever seen with fucshia blossoms.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Get Around: Garden Panoramas

This garden project by an international band of geo-photographers will knock your socks off and turn your head all the way around.

19th Century Garden, Dolenjska, Slovenia
Boštjan Burger
Via: World Wide Panorama

A garden is a 360-degree experience, hard to capture in a still photograph. Close-ups are too short and buggy, wide angles too distant and angelic. And we miss what’s going on above, below, behind the camera.

Rubbernecks and inquiring eyes will be twistfully delighted by Gardens, a collection of interactive panoramas all taken between June 20-25, 2006. Here from Damascus, Syria, Gloucester, Massachusetts, to Himi City, Japan, are scores of gardens—garden visits, really—since, as we move the virtual “eye” across the screen, we are turning around in each environment. You can look down a path in Bodoe, Norway or over a field of pink wildflowers to the Spanish Coast at Coruna, or behind you at a group of hikers in flowerless Queens Garden, Utah.

Photographer and geographer G. Donald Bain at the University of California Berkeley founded the World Wide Panorama project with Landis Bennett. Here on the web, 360-degree photographers from around the world come together four times a year (at the equinoxes and solstices) to document a different theme. In advance of last year’s summer solstice, Don sent out a probing invitation to Gardens. He’s graciously permitted us to excerpt his letter:

A Garden of Delight, Kammeny Privoz, Czech Republic
Jeffrey Martin, Prague
Via: World Wide Panorama

“Nobody need travel very far to find an interesting subject, or interpret the theme as a metaphor. Just look around, think about what makes gardens in your particular place special and distinctive, then find a good example with photographic possibilities.

“Gardens range from prim little front yards, just lawn and flowerbeds, to elaborate landscapes with plants originating from all over the world, or for that matter fruits and vegetables. Some gardens are small and private, others open to the public and world famous.

“One way of looking at gardens is that they embody our ideals for a vegetated space - filtered by cultural context and physical environment. What makes a garden in Arizona different from one in Connecticut, Hawaii, Italy, Mexico, Alaska, Japan, or Brazil? Each will have distinctive aspects that set it apart from the others....

“Given our ability to alter the environment, even more important than physical factors are our expectations and desires. What do we want from a garden - organic vegetables, brilliant flowers, species native to the region, unusual plants from all over, shade from the sun, shelter from the wind, impressive vistas or intimate spaces? How do we want to manage it - manicured, casual, or wild?

“Each culture evolves its own aesthetic of landscaping. Some are widely understood and emulated - everyone recognizes a classic Japanese garden, for example. But most gardens are subtle variations on a cultural/environmental theme, modulated by local circumstances and individual preferences, and sometimes by institutional mandates.

19th Century Garden, Dolenjska, Slovenia
Boštjan Burger
Via: World Wide Panorama

“Every major city has one or more famous gardens, often city parks. London has the Chelsea Physic Garden, established in 1673 to collect and study medicinal plants. San Francisco has the Japanese Tea Garden, a by-product of the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition. Kyoto is famous for its temples, including the unique raked gravel Zen gardens. The Missouri Botanical Garden in Saint Louis is a world leader in botanical research as well as a public park. Banyan Park in Lahaina on the Hawaiian island of Maui is covered by a single huge banyan tree.

“Vegetable and fruit gardens reflect culture and environment. In what environments would you expect the following to be grown: olives, apples, papayas, avocadoes? Tomatoes, rhubarb, vegetable marrow, okra, tomatilloes?

“Botanical gardens serve two purposes, research and public education. Some display the vegetation of the world, others focus on the local area. They are usually laid out geographically and all the plants should be labeled. Some contain unusual or unique plants, such as the Victoria lily at Kew Gardens near London, or Captain Bligh’s breadfruit on the West Indian island of Saint Vincent....

“So, take a good look around you, try to interpret the physical and cultural reasons for what you see planted, where and why. Choose a garden, large or small, private or public, flowers or vegetables or lawns. Find a way to bring out its special beauty and interest in your panoramic photography. Learn all about it and write a good caption. Easy!

Don Bain
Geographer at Berkeley”

Livia’s Garden, near Front Royal, Virginia, USA
Rose Hughes Steuart’s reproduction of a Roman fresco
at Poplar Forest, a recreation of Thomas Jefferson’s home
Skip Steuart
Via: World Wide Panorama

Scan through thumbnails of all the panoramas or look for gardens by region and nation. This is surely the most amazing human flower project we’ve encountered in months. We especially enjoy how some photographers have dwelled on the human—for example, Rodolpho Pajuaba in his Garden of Ronaldos from Brazil-- while others focused on flora or fauna, (feline, in this case). Many of the gardens are grand and famous, others humble.

A Garden of Delight, Kammeny Privoz, Czech Republic
Jeffrey Martin, Prague
Via: World Wide Panorama

We hope that readers will get around this thrilling site and let us know your favorites. And we thank Don Bain and these three marvelous photographers for permitting us to share their work here. One final note and question, while looking at these panoramas, we have had the distinct sense of visiting each garden WITH someone. Is it this 360-degree format that turns photography—normally a private and contemplative experience—into something that feels sociable? 

Friday, July 20, 2007

Flying Afresh on Rose Wingshttp://www.kitchencapers.net

Here’s something you’ve never done with a chicken, something floral, we mean.

Rose Chicken Wings
Photos (and cooking): Gina Choong

Late July in Texas, we come down with a case of barbecue-itis. Delicious as ribs and chicken are cooked over the outdoor grill (and lucky as we are to be eating anything), we just can’t face another plate of hickory-smoked critter.

Gina Choong to the rescue. Based in Singapore, Gina for three years operated a marvelous multi-ethnic food site called Kitchen Capers, a labor of love dedicated to the memory of a young aspiring chef. Somehow she found time to send us a cure for barbecue-itis, a recipe for Rose Wings.

...two recipes, actually:  one for the “Rose Vinegar” marinade, a beautiful floral switch from tomato-based barbecue sauce, the other for the roasted chicken wings. Thank you, Gina, and good luck in your new endeavor!

By Gina Choong

Rose vinegar is fragrant by fresh roses. It can be use for cooking or for making salad dressing. You can use it to marinate meats for roasting.

Rose Vinegar
Ingredients

5 Rose Buds (no stalk, no leaves)
make sure to use buds free of herbicides and pesticides!
300ml (1 1/4 c.) Distilled White Vinegar

Method
1. Pour vinegar into a sauce pot and heat over the stove for 5 mins (low heat).
2. Turn off the heat and leave it to cool.
3. Remove petals from the buds.
4. Snip off the white ends of each petal. Discard the white ends, as they are bitter.
5. Push the petals into a cleaned glass bottle.
6. Pour cooled vinegar into the bottle and seal with a cork.
7. Leave it to stand for 3 weeks in a warm and bright place.
8. Use the vinegar according to each recipe.

The vinegar will turn maroon red.

Rose Chicken Wings
Ingredients
10 Chicken Wings
20g Salted butter (melted)

Marinate
100ml Rose Red Vinegar (1/3 c.)
2 tbsp Sesame oil
1 tsp sugar

Method
1. Marinate wings with sauce for 1 hour.
2. Preheated oven 200C for 15 mins.
3. Brush wings with melted butter and roast for 10 to 15 mins.
4. Serve immediately.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

A Boy Named Hyacinthe

Known best for his portraits of the French royals, Hyacinthe Rigaud had a handle on flowers, too.

Portrait of Jean Le Juge and His Family (detail)
by Hyacinthe Rigaud
National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa
Photo: Lee Sandstead

Rose, Violet, Daisy, Iris—flower names are usually bestowed on girls. Perhaps that custom gave Hyacinthe Rigaud, born male on July 18, 1759, a lot to live down. At age 23, he won the Prix de Rome—entitling him to a year’s study in Italy— but said “no thanks,” choosing to set up his own studio in Paris instead. Seems to have been a good idea, for soon Hyacinthe was accepting commissions from none other than the Sun King, Louis XIV. His portrait of Le Roi Soleil in Alice Cooper wig and white tights is one of the most memorable of all royal portraits. For the throngs of us who’ll never get within hailing distance of a king, Hyacinthe Rigaud’s painting style is positively tactile. You can actually touch His Highness’s curls and calves (if you want to).

In the portrait of Jean le Juge and Family, Rigaud and his assistants paint a whole baroque hand jive. Dad clutches a velvet cape while pointing to his darling daughter, Mother strokes a glossy dachshund and with her other hand, pulls a shawl of modesty over the girl’s shoulder, while sissy holds a parrot on one finger and with the other hand encircles a basket of flowers.

Studies of Flowers
by Hyacinthe Rigaud, c. 1695
Image: ArtNet

Hyacinthe Rigaud is renowned for these well upholstered pictures of the French nobility, but we discover that he was a fine flower painter, too. (Carnations aren’t good patrons, though.) His study of lilies, poppies, mallow and roses, all suspended against a background of gold look as fresh as this week’s flower scans (check out Craig Cramer’s latest).

As in Johnny Cash’s song “Boy Named Sue,” Hyacinthe Rigaud’s father—also a painter—may have wanted to give his boy something to prove.  Monsieur Rigaud Senior, here you go.

Monday, July 16, 2007

‘In Lieu of’ for Lady Bird? Not Hardly!

Flowers poured in for the U.S.  former first lady, tributes from the mighty and the more-than-meek. Do tell!

At the LBJ Library July 14, friends of Lady Bird Johnson
admired the many floral tributes—and their senders
All Photos: Anonymous

Reading through many obituaries of Lady Bird Johnson, we didn’t once catch sight of the phrase “in lieu of flowers....” Generous as she was to many organizations, notably the Wildflower Center that bears her name, Mrs. Johnson and her family didn’t see fit to discourage blooms as she was mourned and buried this weekend. What a relief and joy!

We weren’t among the guests invited to her private obsequies, but a friend of ours was. At a reception held on the 10th floor of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Library on Saturday, our friend took a look at the cards tucked in several of the arrangements (and pictures of some other folks doing the same thing). Our friend expressed a smidgen of embarrassment at having peeked at the names, but we assured him/her that such curiosity is only proper. So is spreading the word.

People who send ostentatious (or why don’t we call them “gorgeous") floral arrangements to a funeral are doing a wonderful thing, and they’re rightfully inviting and deserving credit. In our view, it’s no different than someone with a powerful singing voice really opening up for a hymn. Isn’t there some good advice about not putting your light under a bushel? Likewise, we think, don’t put a sock in your mouth when it’s time to sing or refrain from sending flowers with your name on them to ANY occasion.

So, here are just a few of the many flower arrangements sent to honor Lady Bird Johnson (and to distinguish the givers a bit, too). Many thanks to our delightful and distinguished and discreet camera-toting friend.

A floral Texas flag from ?? and wreath from pianist Van Cliburn

From the Rev. Billy Graham

From (l-r) Betty Ford, the Reza Pahlavi family (Shah of Iran), and ??

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Talking Flowers to the Men of Cork

Moved by the EarthScholars’ recent article on men’s taste in flowers (or lack thereof), Dara Burke of Cork, Ireland, headed out to do some man-in-the-mall interviews herself. We commend you, Dara, for going to the source. Many thanks for sharing your findings here at HFP!

Picking up flowers
at Douglas Court
in Cork, Ireland
Photo: Dara Burke

By

Did you know that 7 out of 10 purchasers of cut flowers are women? Sound about right? Did you know also that men spend up to 16% more on flowers per purchase? That means that if only 1 out of 7 women sent their male friend or partner to the store to buy flowers instead of going themselves, the cut flower market earnings would jump almost 2%. That’s almost one year’s growth in the cut flower market overnight!

So the tough question that remains is why don’t more men buy flowers more often? Not finding any data on the flower purchasing patterns of men, I made my own unscientific survey. On Thursday, June 28, I went to my local supermarket, Douglas Court, to ask questions. Douglas is a fairly upper-middle class suburb of Ireland’s “second city,” Cork. With a population of around 300,000, Cork lies on Ireland’s southeast coast, at the world’s second largest natural harbor. 

I spoke with 30 male flower purchasers, most of them between the ages of 18 and 60. Here’s what we learned, with some thoughts as to what their answers could mean for the cut-flower industry as a whole.

* Men don’t purchase flowers regularly

Men really don’t buy flowers as often as they should. Almost 90% of respondents only purchased flowers once every six months to a year. That’s a lot of missed Valentine’s Days, Wedding Anniversaries, and Birthdays every year, we think!

* Men buy mostly for occasions

Asked when they do buy flowers, men seem to be mostly occasion-buyers. 64% listed birthdays as a flower-buying occasion, 50% listed Anniversaries, 23% listed National Holidays. 30% were impulse purchasers and only 12% said “other.” (We’re wondering whether 30% is what we like to call the guilty-conscience ratio….)

* Men prefer buying from florists but most don’t have a regular florist whom they frequent

87% of men said that they don’t have a regular florist yet the same number of men (87%) listed florist as their preferred place to buy flowers. 30% said that they purchase flowers in the supermarket also. 3% said they purchased flowers in a convenience store, 3% listed garden centres and 3% listed “other.”

Although men don’t purchase flowers very regularly, generally they seemed to like to ‘do it properly’ when it comes time to buy that special bouquet for their loved ones. Men will spend more, and they’ll go to a florist because they believe they will get better quality.

* Men don’t buy flowers more often because ...

Asked to list two main reasons why they don’t buy more flowers, 77% of men responded that they prefer to buy other gifts, 47% said that flowers are too expensive, 40% listed forgetfulness as one of their reasons, and 14% said that they were too busy.

These figures seem to suggest that a reminder service may be a good way to connect with male flower-purchasers. Selling other items besides flowers may also have a positive effect, although it’s likely that men would buy these other gifts from a non-florist store. A delivery service could also be a boost for the 14% of men who are too busy.

* Men would like to be reminded of flower giving occasions

67% of men said that they’d respond positively to a flower reminder service offered by their florist. Of those who responded that they would like to get a reminder, 57% said they’d prefer an Email reminder, while 43% said they’d prefer a text message reminder to their mobile phone. 3% listed both.

* Flowers are an appropriate gift for a man (sort of...)

Asked whether they felt that flowers were an appropriate gift for a man - 47% of our men said “yes,” although many of them qualified that statement by saying that they’d pass the flowers on to their mum, wives or girlfriends.

Men at Douglas Court
said that they preferred
buying flowers from a florist
Photo: Dara Burke

The men who responded to our survey were a fairly diverse group—everyone from business professionals stopping off for a pint of milk on their way home from work to teenage custodial staff working on the shopping center floor. Since the days of the ‘Celtic Tiger’ and the buoyant Irish economy, Ireland’s inhabitants have become increasingly ethnically diverse, so there was a good cross-section of cultures there also - including at least one Indian, one Scottish respondent and one Nigerian.

It took me a little over 2 hours to gather the data from 30 men. There’s a broad cross-section of society at a shopping center between the hours of 4-6.30PM, so I’d expect the results to be the same anywhere in the country. Indeed, I’d expect the results to be similar anywhere in the UK also, with probably a degree of similarity the US as well.

I think maybe on continental Europe and in India, the results might differ slightly. I spoke with two guest workers from India and they generally seemed to be more enthusiastic about receiving flowers as a gift than most of the Irish males.

Overall there seems to be good growth potential in the flower market from and for males. Men are generally occasion-buyers and have a strong preference for florists when they do purchase, although most don’t seem to have do business regularly with any florist in particular. Reminder services and perhaps home deliveries are good ways to bridge the male flower gap, with a possibility that cross-selling gift items may yield good results.

Note: operates, FlowerHour.biz, based in Cork, Ireland, a florist marketing company that keeps florists in touch with their customers by email and text-message reminders for important events.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Botanical Gentry, Make Room for Pokeweed

As the unruly “salat” maker vies for space in her garden, horticulturist and garden designer Jill Nokes puts in a good word for a disparaged plant. Jill, we and the mockingbirds thank you!

Pokeweed in flower, Austin, TX, July 2007
Photo: Jill Nokes

By Jill Nokes

Around here, the summer of ’07 will surely be remembered for freakishly abundant rainfall.  It’s already mid-July, yet my garden looks more like Vietnam’s Mekong Delta than Central Texas. But after two years of scary drought conditions, I’m not complaining.  Even ordinary plants are super-sized and showing off, hoping to get a full-time gig in the permanent display. I’m especially enjoying a bumper crop of pokeweed (Phytolacca Americana var. Americana).

Pokeweed
Phytolacca Americana var. Americana
Photo: Jill Nokes

Pokeberry and elderberry are among the plants that fall into the red-headed stepchild category: they are interesting, and even useful, but for most people they are just too unruly or free-spirited to mingle well with the botanical gentry. Horticultural literature in general disdains them and insists that every serious gardener must learn to separate the sheep from the goats when making plant selections. But, I wonder, why must it be an either/or proposition? Many rejected plants are well suited for remnant, overlooked and underused areas in the yard, like alleys or the narrow space between a garage and fence, where the trash cans are kept. There, they can grow freely and be enjoyed for what they are.

Pokeweed (also called pokeberry) is a large-leaved branching plant with reddish stems and long clusters of small white flowers that develop into dark purple-black fruits. It freezes back to a perennial rootstock, and also enlists avian assistance in seed dissemination. As with other berry-producing plants such as chile pequin, lantana, and possum-haw holly, mockingbirds are crazy about the fruit. Recently I read that the population of many common songbirds was dropping, so I believe I’ll leave those extra plants where they are for now.

Preparing poke salad
near Marshall, TX, c. 1930
Photo: via answers.com

Folklore tells us that pokeweed or poke salad, like early spring dandelion and chicory, was a welcome addition to a pioneers’ winter-weary salt pork diet, though one is warned to boil only the young greens from shoots no longer than six inches long, before the stems turn crimson, because the older plant has toxic properties. You must “throw off” the boiling water twice before eating. One of pokeweeds “reputed virtues” is as a cathartic—I believe I’ll leave the taste testing to my mockingbirds.

Someone once told me that during the Civil War, soldiers used the purple stain from the fruit as an ink substitute. I wonder if those pokeweed letters are still legible, or if they have faded into the ground like the plant itself after the first frost. Pokeweed’s range is so widespread, that I like to imagine hungry and lonesome soldiers happy to recognize it as they were bivouacked in temperate forests far from home.