Latin Making an Exit in Botanical Descriptions

Some of you may have noticed Adrian Higgins' piece in the Post yesterday -- frankly I'm surprised more people didn't send it to me, especially current and former students who loathe using botanical nomenclature during my classes!

Since the modern binomial system began (remember Linnaeus?) those wishing to document discovery of a plant were required to write the descriptive text in Latin.  As of January 1, those descriptions can be written in English.  It's a good change and on January 5 the New York Times issued an editorial supporting it.  That does not mean though that plant species will abandon their botanical names (I am always reluctant to refer to as 'Latin names' since just as often the botanical name is Greek, or derivative of ancient Greek).

I have to admit, when I first heard about this, I panicked, thinking that they were abandoning scientific nomenclature which would have been a major change for designers, nurserymen, botanists, teachers, etc.

Higgins adds that the change will also affect, 'the pretentious gardener who, trug in one hand, pruners in the other, can wax on about the Syringa (lilac), Salix (willow) or Solidago (goldenrod), et cetera,' which I think is a little cruel, since there are 25 species of Syringa, 400 species of Salix, 100 species of Solidago, et cetera.  In many cases, the species refers to critical differences among plants of the same genus.  Not to mention that, to many, understanding what's behind the nomenclature can be fascinating - otherwise my etymology tags on Planted Cloud and NYPAOS wouldn't be so highly viewed!

Lindera benzoin

Here's another plant from my class last Saturday: Lindera benzoin or spicebush.  Spicebush is a plant that can easily be missed during the summer and winter, but during spring, when it's in bloom, and fall, when it shows off its amazing fall color, you cannot miss it. 

The fall color is a clear honey yellow on large ovate leaves with entire margins.  The leaves themselves could be confused with other plants, but it's easy enough to confirm that you are looking at Lindera by crushing and smelling the leaves.  They will emit a spicy, lemony scent.  Thus the name spicebush.  The twigs and fruits are equally fragrant.

This specimen must be a male, as otherwise, we'd likely see the red berries that typically appear in late summer/early fall.  Instead, we can only see the flower buds for next spring.  The plant is an important species for survival of the spicebush swallowtail, which lays eggs on the plant.

Spicebush has a long history of medicinal uses by Native Americans and is now available commercially for homeopathic uses.  The leaves, when crushed, can be used as a poultice for burns or cuts.  The plant can also be used for flavoring food and for making a tea.  Lindera is derivative from from the botanist Lindler; benzoin is derivative of the Middle French word 'benjoin' which means 'Java Frankincense' and referring to the spicy aroma of the plant.

Joe Pye Weed

This is one of my favorite North American wildflowers -- Eutrochium purpureum (formerly Eupatorium), commonly known as Joe Pye Weed.  Eutrochium is a tall (6-7') summer flowering perennial, typically with pink flowers as seen below.  Part of the reason that this plant is now Eutrochium and not Eupatorium is because the former has whorled leaves (indeed, trocho is Greek for wheel-like, thus whorled) and the latter has opposite leaves. Both genera remain in the Asteraceae family.

Below, a white flowering variety, less common than the purplish pink flowers.  One way to distinguish E. purpureum from E. maculatum (these plants are often confused) is the presence of pink spots along the entire stem of E. maculatum, as opposed to the clear green or purple stems on E. purpureum.

Joe Pye weed is a pretty terrific common name, too.  It's named for a Native American who was known by colonists as Joe Pye.  As legend goes, he used the roots of this plant to aid a colonist who was ill with typhus.  The plant induced sweating which broke his fever. The plant was also used by Native Americans as an ailment to "breakbone fever" (which is now known as dengue fever), thus another common name of boneset (though boneset is usually considered the common name for Eutrochium perfoliatum, a close relative). 

You need a fair amount of real estate to use this plant, as large as it gets.  But if you have the space, it's a great addition as it provides habitat to bees, butterflies and birds.

Heptacodium miconioides

Last Saturday, I took my students on another Ladew field trip.  While there, we noticed the flowers buds on a very large specimen of Heptacodium miconioides or seven son flower.  Unfortunately I rarely teach and take photos at the same time, so today I'm posting a photo of a specimen at Kurt Bluemel's nursery. 

Heptacodium is a rarity and horticultural buffs love this plant.  It seldom grows higher than 15' so seeing specimens like this one and the one at Ladew is a special treat.  A member of the honeysuckle (or Caprifoliaceae) family, the plant has two ranks of long, strappy leaves and the panicles of white flowers occur from the center of the stem.  The leaves are particularly unusual, as the midrib vein has two additional prominent veins that run parallel and to each side of it. The bark is putty colored and very stringy or fibrous.  Habit, if left unpruned, is quite wild, though it can be shaped quite well.  Dirr:
Upright, irregular, loose, almost artistic; grows to its own beat." (Emphasis mine.)

The infloresences consist of seven solitary flowers, thus the name Heptacodium.  Hepta of course means seven and -codium is referring to heads.  It's thus a pretty direct translation for seven son flower.  Miconioides means it looks like a plant in the genus Miconia, which are largely tropical plants.

Shooting Star

Here's another spring perennial from the Mary Livingston Ripley Garden in DC.  Seriously, if you need some inspiration for spring perennials, take a walk through these lovely gardens.   This plant is Dodecatheon meadia or shooting star.  Its basal rosette of leaves (leaves which have some relief to them) and elongated stems on which the flowers sit (those stems are called peduncles) are typical characteristics to the primrose family (Primulaceae), to which this plant belongs.

It's a gorgeous plant and native to boot.  It's found in the eastern United States from Georgia to Michigan.  It's typically found in wooded shady locations and prefers moist soils.  It has a high tolerance to alkaline soils as well.  It aestivates by mid-summer (i.e., it loses its leaves and goes dormant) but spreads easily and can be divided without trouble.  It is endangered in some states, primarily due to overcollection.

The common name, shooting star, is pretty obvious.  But Dodecatheon -- that's a bit more obscure.  Evidently, a similar primrose was christened with this name by Pliny the Elder himself (one of the first botanists).  He named it because he believed this plant was under watch by gods, twelve of them in fact.  In Greek, dodeca means twelve and theos means God.

Brunnera macrophylla

My regular students know that generally I'm not a fan of variegated plants, but occasionally I make an exception or two.  Cornus alba is one, as is Polygonatum odoratum.  It seems that variegated plants bother me less in the shade.  I suppose in those instances, the white foliage brightens up an otherwise dark space. 

Brunnera macrophylla just barely fits in that category for me.  I don't mind the almost silvery foliage on the rough, scratchy leaves.  Though I suspect I'd like it more if it was a solid green. Brunnera is a tough plant, I've seen it do well being ignored in New York.  This leads me to a sidenote: Now that I am teaching in DC and NY, I find myself telling the DC students a plant is tough based on my observations of seeing it in a harsh NY environment like a blighted park or a poorly maintained planter.  I hit a new low of cheesiness: I told my students, 'If Brunnera can make it in New York, it can make it anywhere.'  Yea, it was embarassing.

Anyway, there's a great common name story with this plant.  Though most people call it Brunnera another common name for it is bugloss.  Naturally you'd think the name refers in some ways to bug.  But no, instead it is derivative of the Greek words bous and glossa, which means "cow's tongue."  This is referring to the mottled tongue-like appearance of the leaves.

Pachypodium

Since yesterday's post was on Vinca minor, a member of the Apocynaceae family, I thought I would post today on one of Vinca's odder relatives, Pachypodium.  I won't distinguish a species, however since I'm not so good at spotting the differences between P. lealii and P. brevicaule, though the former is more common in southern Africa and the latter is specific to Madagascar.

 

Pachypodiums are desert plants and you don't have to be a plant nerd to assume that the water the plant needs to survive drought is stored in the trunk.  Below, you can see the flower is not too different from Vinca.  
 

Though we think of elephants when we hear the word "pachy" - that's really Latin for "thick."  Thus, pachyderm means thick skin.  Pachypodium means thick foot (I suppose the "foot" in this case is the swollen trunk).

Wood Poppy

I absolutely love learning a new plant.  I saw this at a client's property in Maryland last week and was informed it was wood poppy, or Stylophorum diphyllum.  Though not a true Papaver it is indeed in the poppy, or Papaveraceae family.

I'm chagrined because at first glance I thought it was a buttercup, or member of the Ranunculaceae family.  The yellow flowers influenced my snap judgment, which is always a good reminder to look more carefully when inspecting plants in the field.

If I had paid closer attention, I would have noted the poppy-like fuzzy flower buds and the soft hairs on the flower's peduncle -- both typical to poppies and not at all common on buttercups. Also like poppies, when the stem is broken a milky sap exudes from the plant.

Stylophorum is a native wildflower and naturalizes damp woods with ease.  The genus name simply means "having styles" which are the stem(s) that supports the female flower part - the stigma.  Diphyllum refers to the pair of leaves that usually are found at the base of the flower.  The plant is also commonly called celandine poppy.

Winter Daphne

So yes, perhaps on first glance you see the star magnolia in this pic and you are second guessing my post title.  But then, you look more closely and see a spotty shrub growing out of the fence, and you feel the need to inspect more closely.  That's pretty much what my experience was when I parked across from this Georgetown garden a few days ago.

 

I knew, from across the street, that it wasn't an early Ericaceous plant like azalea or andromeda and it wasn't one of the many sulfur-yellow early spring plants, like Forsythia, Cornus mas or Jasminum nudiflorum (more on that one next week).  I suspected it could be winter daphne, or Daphne odora, but had my doubts.  The plant is notoriously difficult to grow and it seemed unlikely to thrive here, jammed in an urban, crowded garden. 

 

But at closer inspection, it sure enough was winter daphne.  The glossy, broad leaves with faintly variegated margins, the round infloresences and of course the dizzying, heady fragrance are all clear giveaways.  If I didn't want the owners of that lovely home to sue me, I'd tell you where I found this plant and insist you smell it for yourself.  It's utterly intoxicating.

But as I said, it's a tough plant to keep happy.  Dirr says, "What a wonderful plant! Temperamental, trying, but worth all the attention."  Sounds like some relationships!

Speaking of which, this presents a perfect opportunity to address the plant's nomenclature.  Daphne is named for the mythological Greek nymph who, in order to avoid Apollo's fervent love and desire for her, prayed for help and was transformed into a laurel (Laurus nobilis).  In ancient Greece, Laurus nobilis was referred to as Daphne.  How and when the new genus Daphne acquired its name and Laurus started being called laurel, is a mystery I cannot shed light on today.

Petticoat Daffodil

I'm not sure I can think of a cuter common name for a plant than 'petticoat daffodil.'  I mean, really.  The botanical name, bulbocodium, means 'woolly bulb' which is somewhat (conversely) less cuddly-sounding.  Paghat's Garden quotes a great line of Mother Goose that refers to this plant: 

Daffy-down dilly has come to town

In a yellow petticoat and a green gown.

Of course, this specimen is a white cultivar, which I think is somewhat less striking.  The fine, threadlike leaves and the small white blossoms get lost in this planting, near the USBG.  I much prefer the straight species and its yellow flowers.

I blogged about daffodils and their many classes on NYPAOS.  As you can see, N. bulbocodium has a greatly enlarged cup and small, flared perianth.  Like many other bulbs, this species is native to the Mediterranean, specifically Spain and Portugal.

Rhapis excelsa

First of all, spring is absolutely here.  Thank goodness.  First of all, last Friday, on an afternoon run by the Potomac, I saw this:

How wonderful to finally see bulbs sprout.  Then on Saturday I met my students at the USBG and spied Galanthus, Crocus, Hamamelis, Abeliaphyllum, Jasminum nudiflorum, Helleborus, Iris reticulata and a new plant that I'd never seen before, Edgeworthia (more on that later). 

But before we completely abandon the tropics for the season a final post, courtesy of my aunt: Rhapis excelsa or lady palm.  My aunt sent me the photo above and it was a sure bet she was shooting Rhapis.  The plant is native to China but was first popularized elsewhere in Japan, since the plant can handle low light levels and indoor environments.

We used Rhapis as a hedge at the Edition: Waikiki.

That's me, running quality control (smirk) on the plants we got for the hedge.  As you can see Rhapis spreads by sending up new shoots and though the plant is in the Arecaceae or palm family, many think it looks somewhat like bamboo because of this habit.  

My aunt sent this shot above, too and it demonstrates well the effects of high levels of sunlight on the plant.  If the plant gets too much light, it yellows (that's because the sun is basically overcooking the chlorophyll in the leaves, it's not because the plant has become chlorotic). Getting a deep, rich green hue is important to Rhapis growers.  In fact, a nurseryman in Waimanolo told me he fertilizes the plant with chicken droppings which works very well.  It probably can be left unsaid that the nursery itself had an unbearable stench!

 

It's quite possible the leaf in this gate detail at Park Guell is of a lady palm.  The plant became quite popular in Europe  during the Victoria era and Park Guell began construction right at the end of this period.   Rhapis is derivative of the ancient Greek work for rod and refers to the sharp shoots on which the leaves are borne.

Coccoloba uvifer

It seems like it's been ages since I've been blogging -- at least about plants!  We're gonna wrap up this week with some tropical plants my aunt photographed while in Florida a few weeks ago.  I love that these days, any one of my friends or family members can send me a text message with a photo of a plant and the simple question, "What is this?"

This plant was an easy call -- Coccoloba uvifera, or seagrape, is ubiquitous in Florida.  It's a multistemmed sprawling low tree with large, thick leaves.  The plant is incredibly tolerant to salt and wind.  The flowers are diminutive, but the fruit are pendulous bunches of grape-like berries.

The plant is native to Florida and the Caribbean and the fruit can be harvested to make a jelly.  The roots have been used to treat dysentery and a gum from the wood can be used as a remedy for sore throats.

Coccoloba literally means 'lobed fruit' and uvifera means 'bearing eggs' - presumably both refer to the distinctive fruit of this plant.

Water Lily

 It occurred to me this morning, after posting a photo of the bench in Giverny, that although I've posted about the wonderful gardens there before, I've never shared more than one measly photo of the famous pond with its very famous waterlilies.

  

Monet's pond is largely populated with Nymphaea odorata, a fragrant, summer-blooming waterlily that is actually an invasive species in the west, where it can become weedy with an absence of cold winters.

The wide flat leaves (the petioles are at the center and reach to the bottom of the pond where they root) help keep the leaves afloat. 

The sepals on the flowers are thick and leathery, which also helps keep the flowers (fragrant, as the species name implies) afloat.

Nymphaea of course means nymph and refers to the ancient Greek belief in feminine free spirits that were often found at springs or water bodies.

Neomarica

To me, one of the most striking perennials in Hawaii was Neomarica northiana or walking iris.  Clearly the plant resembles Iris, what with its flower structure of standards and falls.  Though it's distinguishable from Iris because a plantlet develops around a newly pollinated flower.  At this point, when the leaves begin to grow from the base of the old flower, it becomes weighed down and eventually falls to the ground and develops roots.   Thus the name walking iris.

Marica is the name of the Roman water nymph who lived in the River Liris.  Neo simply means new.  

Heritiera longipetiolata

Yesterday's post about pineapples made me miss Hawaii. At this point, it looks like I may not return for a few months which is frustrating (particularly during this snowy, rainy winter!).  So to get me through the cold days, I thought I'd post a few pics from my travels there.

 
This grove of trees, when viewed from afar, don't seem particularly spectacular. But when I took a closer look at them (growing at the Waimea Valley Botanical Garden on the north shore of Oahu), I was enchanted by the network of buttressed roots.

The plant is Heritiera longipetiolata, and is endemic to Guam.  The plant is also highly endangered.  Though it is one dozens of websites due to its status as an endangered species, the information is somewhat scant on details.

The etymology of the genus name isn't very telling either.  It's simply named for Charles Louis de Brutelle L'Heritier, a French botanist, who also named Eucalyptus.

The species name however, should be fairly obvious.  Longipetiolata simply means long petioles.  And as you can see from some of the pictures, this indeed is true.  The plant has petioles that are as much as 2" long. 

Somali Hemp

First of all, how evocative is that common name (Somali hemp)?  Immediately I think of drug-running pirates and gunfights and war.   None of those are good things, of course, but I didn't say it was a "good" common name either, just an evocative one...

Anyhoo, the botanical name for Somali hemp may be more familar: Sansevieria grandis.  Chances are if you've ever been to a mall (or my apartment, for that matter), you've seen its relative, Sanseviera trifasciata, which also has some scary-sounding common names: snake plant, or mother-in-law's tongue. 

S. trifasciata is a common houseplant, but Somali hemp, less so.  It is native to Kenya and south Africa and is in the Agavaceae family.  Its succulent leaves means it can survive a long time in hot, dry climates.  The genus is named for Italian Prince Raimond de Sansgrio de Sanseviero, an 18th century patron of botanical expeditions.

Cryptomeria japonica

Here's a shot of a building outside the National Cathedral with Cryptomeria japonica accenting the corner of the structure.

Cryptomerias are native to Japan where the trees reach sequoia-like heights of 80 meters.  Cryptomeria japonica is the only species in its genus, making the plant monotypic.  It is also endemic to Japan (meaning that it is only found - in nature - in Japan) and extremely common there. Japan is the most diverse area for conifers -- more families (6), genera (18) and species (45) of conifers are found in Japan than anywhere else.  

 

Cryptomerias are commonly referred to as 'Japanese cedars' which is a misnomer since the plant is not a cedar (Cedrus) at all.  It isn't even a member of the cedar family (Pinaceae), but a member of the cypress (Cupressaceae) family.  The branchlets remind me of little pipe cleaners, with small compressed leaves that look similar to the juvenile awls of junipers.

The bark is quite similar to other Cupressaceae species, with a reddish, cinnamon color and vertical fibrous strips.  You can make some assumptions about the etymology of the word Cryptomeria.  Crypto- is derivative of the ancient Greek word krypto- which means hidden.  Meri- means 'part'.  Essentially the name is referring to the fact that all the reproductive parts of the plant are hidden in the seed capsules.

Symphoricarpus orbiculatus

I stumbled across this plant last November and was dually stymied and excited to be confronted with another plant mystery.   I don't mean that to come across the wrong way - I, by no means, am capable of identifying every plant in the world.  But I do know most of the plants that are popular in the landscape trade.  This one was a mystery.

 

I don't know what I'd do if I were in this profession forty years ago -- I'd have spent hours going through plant books, hoping to stumble across a drawing that was close to what I was looking at.  I still do that now, of course, as evidenced by this week's gift list.  But the internet and google do make plant detective work that much easier.  I simply searched the terms: pink berries clusters opposite leaved shrub.  And by the fourth page of results (after many photos of the wonderful Callicarpa) I found Symphoricarpos orbiculatus, or coralberry or Indian currant.

Now, granted, I'm not 100% certain this is the same shrub, but I'm 98%.  As you can see the fruits were fattening up in November.  By now they should be fully formed.  Coralberry is a loose, sprawling shrub and is in the Caprifoliaceae or honeysuckle family.  This plant was rambling along a path and looked very much like it could be related to Lonicera.  Anyone recognize it and would like to agree or contest?

Symphoricarpos orbiculatus shares a genus with S. albus or snowberry.  This plant is a smaller, lower growing shrub with (as the common name suggests) white fruit.  Since the fruit is showy, it makes sense that (like Callicarpa) "carpos" is in the genus name, since that means body or fruit.  Symph- is derivative of the Greek word that means "in agreement or concord" (like a symphony playing together, or being sympathetic to a friend) and essentially the genus means "fruit borne together."

Sycamore Maple and Incestuous Nomenclature

First of all, apologies.  It's already after 5 on a Tuesday and I've yet to update this site.  I'm in New York until tomorrow and have been a bit overrun with meetings and catching up with some good friends.  But I still managed to get in a run in Central Park yesterday and today.  

 

I stopped to take these shots of sycamore maple, or Acer pseudoplatanus, since we've been covering trees with fall color quite a bit lately and this tree is probably at its peak. As you can see, while the leaves are not as fiery as its cousin, Acer saccharum, they are a fairly clear, bright yellow.  The leaves are also serrated, unlike sugar maple, Norway maple, or even hedge maple.  Acer rubrum, or red maple, also has serrated leaves, as do other species in the genus, but I've yet to post on them.  But, if you're familiar with red maple leaves, you may notice that the leaf below is a broader shape, with five distinct lobes, whereas A. rubrum often has trident-like leaves.  The lobes on sycamore maple also are a touch fatter or wider at the mid-point; red maple lobes consistently taper in size and are widest near the middle of the leaf, narrowing to the points.  Finally, and perhaps obviously, red maple leaves this time of year are usually, well, red.

Sycamore maple is called thus because the bark has a thick, scaly bark similar to sycamore (Platanus occidentalis).  And here's a good example where nomenclature can get a touch confusing:

London plane tree is Platanus x. acerifolia and the species name is indicating the leaves look like Acer, or maple.

Norway maple is called Acer platanoides because the leaves look like london plane tree, or Platanus x. acerifolia.

Sycamore maple is called Acer pseudoplatanus because the bark (below) looks like sycamore (and probably because platanoides was already taken!).

The whole thing gets a bit cyclical, like a flawed math formula, doesn't it?

The tree is not native and while it is not as outrageously invasive as Norway maple, it can conquer over natives due to its high tolerance to salt, drought and wind.  It's just that resilience which lead to the plant being brought here from Europe and Southwest Asia, sometime in the late 19th century.