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Nature's Apothecary
By Sharon Ackland
April 2010
 Who
doesn’t love a rhododendron? Colorful harbinger of spring, this
aristocratic plant anchors many a landscape with its statuesque form,
vibrant flower and glossy evergreen foliage. A member of the Ericaceae
or heath family, its botanical cousins include azaleas, cranberries,
blueberries and heather, all of which flourish in the sandy acidic
heathlands on Cape Cod.
Named from the Greek – rodo (rose) and dendro (tree) –
rhododendrons grow throughout the world. The greatest species diversity
occurs in the Himalayan mountains, as well as southeastern Asia. A
prolific genus of over 1000 species, it encompasses 60 foot-high North
American giants to tiny alpine ground covers, tropicals to
bromeliad-like epiphytes. One variety native to the Cape’s bogs and
wetlands is R.viscosum, the “swamp azalea.” In early summer its long
white tubular flowers waft a heavenly clove and honeysuckle fragrance
irresistible to hummingbirds, hawkmoths and humans alike.
Extensively hybridized, rhododendrons
and azaleas offer the home gardener a surplus of size, shape and colors
galore – deep reds to corals, classic fuchsia to lavender, sunny oranges
to yellow, and palest pink to green-throated ivory. The flowers yield
more than pastel color however – the fragrance oils of some Himalayan
varieties have been collected for perfume uses, while others have been
tapped for their therapeutic value in homeopathic treatments.
Many rhododendron flowers are steeped in nectar and
pollen, but some species produce a toxin called grayanotoxin which can
taint the bees’ honey. Though harmless to bees, “mad honey” was known
even in ancient times, when – according to folklore - it was
surrepticiously employed to inebriate and vanquish entire armies. Today
the plant is being explored for its healing value in treating arthritis
and hypertension.
March 2010
For a flower enthusiast, one of
spring’s greatest pleasures is coaxing early tender bloom from
well-budded branches brought indoors. Their slowly emerging color and
fragrance is the perfect antidote to a winter-weary spirit. Pruning a
hardwood plant in early spring, with some thinning and shaping, will
also encourage its healthy lush growth throughout the coming season.
The most popular choice for early
forcing - seen sprouting in tall tied bunches from every grocer and
florist’s pail - are slender boughs of willow with its beloved, grey
fuzzy catkins. As spring unfolds, a rich array of flowering trees and
shrubs offers a subtle palette - and the perfect way to invite spring
indoors. Consider the coral or soft pink petals of flowering almond and
quince shrubs; small trees of magnolia, witch hazel and redbud; or
fruiting trees of crabapple, apricot, cherry and plum. When cut (be sure
to trim stem ends at an angle) and placed in a vase of water, these
delicate bouquets call to mind the botanical art of Asia, with its
graceful arching sprays of pastel plum and cherry blossom.
One richly fragrant but little
known shrub that grows well on the Cape is the winter honeysuckle (Lonicera
fragrantissima). One of the few to bloom in late winter, its
creamy-white tubular flowers waft a delicious perfume of honeysuckle and
jasmine. Two or three cut branches will fill a room with the ethereal
smell of spring.
In March when hellebores and
aconites bloom, and small species bulbs of chionodoxa and puschkinia
poke through the earth, is when the first sunny florets of forsythia
burst forth to cheer the spirit. A splendid choice for forcing … and
what would a spring garden be without them?
All these garden species have
been admired through the ages for more than their beauty. Many cultures,
including Native Americans, have relied upon them for medicinal and
cosmetic use. In China the forsythia’s seeds are used to treat colds,
fever and sore throats. A forsythia twig tea is taken for breast cancer,
and tests have confirmed antitumor action. Willows have long been used
for their aspirin-like, pain-dulling properties; witch hazel as a
skin-soothing anti-inflammatory. Even when cold winds blow through bare
branches of the March garden, swelling buds enclose and protect the
coming promise of Spring.
Spicebush
Spice plants have
sprinkled their piquant seeds across many centuries. Ancient impetus for
discovering secret trade routes and new lands, they've left a calling
card peppered with cloves, nutmegs, coriander and cardamom. We tend to
relegate their ambrosial aromas to the kitchen, but might they have
other uses? Might these tropical citizens have botanical cousins right
in our own backyard?
Next time you're out in your own copsy thicket or wildwood, sniff out
some savory rewards. Even bare branches can bear bounty.Look for
spicebush (Lindera benzoin), named after the Asian tree Styrax benzoin,
whose resin perfumes "Opium." Toss its fragrant trimmings onto the
hearth; infuse into teas for colds and fever; and dry its zesty red
berries as Settlers did for a tasty allspice substitute. Indians were
also fond of its bark tea, and rubbed its fruit oil on sore joints and
muscles. Other species emitting fruitful essence include sassafras,
sweet bay magnolia, sweet fern and sweet cicely (all singular
teas). Roots of wild ginger and sweet flag (Acorus calamus) can also be
candied, or dried and grated into potpourri as fixatives. And if, like
me, you relish the intense zing of cloves, plant species next spring
whose flowers are richly redolent: clove currant, wild soapwort, or
Viburnum carlesii. Even as a garden sleeps, the kitchen windowsill can
still sprout potted condiments - try a tangle of cinnamon basil and
nutmeg geranium. Cultures of Arabia, India and China have long called
upon savory plants for healing. Spices "warm" the body, i.e., perk up
the appetite, promote circulation and digestion, stimulate the immune
system. Research shows cinnamon even destroys salmonella, E. coli, and
staph bacteria; coriander eases migraine and cramps; turmeric (high in
antioxidants) prevents cataracts. So this year, here's to your
health. Gather round the table and enjoy the feast!
New York Ironweed with Swallowtail Butterfly
As every chaser of butterflies
knows ... there's a magic show performing in the high summer's garden.
Tiny bejeweled citizens flit from flower to flower ... there's Ms. Pearl
Crescent, Mr. Red Admiral, and Mrs. American Lady. Their costumes of
shiny red, purple and gold shimmer in the sun as they gather to sip
sugary cocktails of mint, phlox and cardinal flower. Like bees,
butterflies carry pollen from flower to flower and when they land, their
feet can "taste" how much nectar is present. They especially enjoy our
wildflower garden's fragrant flowers like summersweet (clethra), bee
balm, and butterfly bush (buddleia). Scientists believe the
scent-producing compounds of these flowers are beneficial to
pollinators. They contain potent healing chemicals which help protect
them from bacteria and viruses.
It's easy to create a butterfly garden. Select flowers with
overlapping bloom periods to extend the menu. Don't forget late summer
and fall flowers like coneflower, aster, soapwort, goldenrod and Joe-Pye
weed - the only source of nectar when little else is in bloom.
Butterflies (and kids) love easy-to-plant annuals like zinnias,
umbelliferae like dill and fennel, and herbs in the mint family like
lavender, oregano and hyssop. Place a large flat stone in a sunny spot
where they can bask and rest. Leave a rain puddle or two so they can
drink liquid and extract nutritious salts. Allow some weeds to grow -
thistle, nettle, rock cress, and ox-eye daisy - many are vital sources
of nectar. Adults require nectar plants from which to drink, but baby
butterflies - caterpillars - feed only on leaves of their host plants.
As soft larvae, they are especially vulnerable. In later stages as a
chrysalis, they have a bit more protection: some chrysalises emit
sinister sounds to scare off predators. Some caterpillars can only feed
on one host plant, like monarchs on milkweed. Fritillary caterpillars
require violet plants; Baltimore checkerspots prefer turtlehead (chelone);
tiger swallowtails need the spicebush, wild cherry, and sassafras leaves
of their "baby food" plants.
Once common, many butterflies are now
endangered. The reasons are many: habitat loss (subdivisions,
construction); herbicides (which poison the adults and kill roadside
host plants); disappearance of migration corridors (grasslands and oak
savannas where an uninterrupted one-to-two year cycle can take place).
To invite more of our winged friends to the garden show, consider
planting a meadow or wild garden where herbs, weeds and wildflowers can
commingle. Chat with neighbors about "joining" your gardens in invisible
connecting migration corridors. Eliminate "broad spectrum" pesticides
and herbicides. Instead, spot treat problem areas with naturals like
peppermint oil, garlic and vinegar. Volunteer for species-monitoring
with local conservation groups. Join a butterfly club. Then join our
garden party, kick back with a tall mint julep and let the world
flutter-by.
(Wild Sarsaparilla - Aralia nudicaulis)
The story of a
plant's common name is the stuff of botanical odysseys. By mimicking
another species valuable to man - even continents away - a plant can
ensure its own historical journey, charting its destiny on the map of "ethnobotany"
(man's cultural uses of plants). The path of Aralia nudicaulis, commonly
named wild or false sarsaparilla, is one such story.
One of the most common understory plants of New England woods, wild
sarsaparilla has a large, easy-to-identify compound leaf. It is divided
into three smooth branching stems, each with five, oval toothed
leaflets. Round umbels of greenish-white flowers (usually three) appear
in spring below the leaves on separate stalks. These ripen into
purple-black berries, once said to resemble "bird shot," hence another
of the plant's common names, shot-bush.
But it is the plant's aromatic rootstock that allured its first
admirers, Native Americans. Its balsamic odor and sweet, almost
marshmallowy taste won over early colonists as well. Steeping it in
flavored drinks, they saw the plant as a viable (and less expensive)
substitute for the root-beer taste of true sarsaparilla of commerce - an
unrelated tropical smilax species growing in South America. Lacking
European grain and hops to make beer and beverages, colonists turned to
their forests which were rich in pungent roots and barks like black
birch, spruce and pine. Their decision to remain in the New World was
shaped, in part, by the discovery of two native, highly desirable roots
-cash crops which could be exported back to England where they were all
the rage: spicy sassafras and evening primrose root (prized for its
parsnip-like taste).
Of all parts of a plant, the root is most often ignored by
contemporary gardeners. Foragers today, though, are increasingly
venturesome in digging for treasured tubers: wild ginger, ginseng,
golden seal, sweet flag, spikenard, and those bulbs of bite - wild
garlic and ramps. Roots are naturally high in sugar, starch, pectin and
resin. (When digging, wash off soil, peel outer skin, use fresh or dry
on low heat, then grind in coffee mill.) The wild sarsaparilla root will
flavor juices, tonics and teas; its fruits - jellies, syrups and wines.
The root was also applied as medicine: poulticed on burns, itchy skin,
and eczema; taken internally for coughs and asthma.
The enduring
popularity of this wild local plant harks back to its South American
namesake, the true sarsaparilla - Spanish for thorny (sarza) and vine (parilla).
A tropical species, true sarsaparilla (Smilax officinalis) happens to
have a relative right here in New England. A briar with heart-shaped
leaves and tasty tender tendrils, it's another smilax whose common name
was once borrowed to bestow upon an institution, one immersed in
teaching an appreciation for nature. This American briar, cousin to the
tropical sarsaparilla, is Smilax rotundifolia, otherwise known as ...
greenbrier.
Nature's Apothecary
By Sharon Ackland
Mayapple
Carpeting the forest floor alongside trillium and trout lily is a
strange anomaly. A plant so poisonous, its dangling yellow plum-like
fruit - beckoning beneath a shroud of broad umbrella leaves - was long
ago christened its cryptonym, the "devil's apple."
Member of the barberry family, the foot-high mayapple (Podophyllum
peltatum) sequesters a single bloom beneath its leafy veil. Every
spring the waxy-white flower entrances its primary pollinator, the
bumblebee. A soft perfume belies poison lurking for all others and
present in all plant parts, leaves and rootstock. Yet this very rhizome
- full of resin, gum and flavonoids - is precisely what makes its venom
so valuable.
For eons the reddish-brown rhizome was fermented into a brew drunk
by Native Americans (NOT to be
done at home).
Expelling intestinal worms, warts and skin tumors, it also served as a
laxative (later touted in "Carter's Little Liver Pills").
Today we know why. The plant's resins are cathartic and powerfully
purgative. Lab analysis reveals an alkaloid - berberine (also present
in common barberry) - a natural antibiotic useful for malaria. Most
diabolical of all, however, is its virulent root lignan -
podophyllotoxin. With an astounding ability to prevent cell division,
its synthesized extract is now used in chemotherapy for lung,
testicular, and skin cancer. The FDA has also approved derivative drugs
(whose annual dollar sales exceed hundreds of millions) for treating
brain tumor and infant leukemia.
Like a plant sap slowly dripping, droplets of chemotherapy dispense
a fine line between poison and cure. Once veiled as devil, now reveals
a sorcerer of cellular knowledge ... the plant spirit's dna of healing
truth - its ultimate saving grace. For as the Indian counseled ... make
mischief nor war, but go deep in the wildwood where nothing is to fear,
and everything to know.
Solomon Seal
Nature's Apothecary
By Sharon Ackland
Ask any seasoned
gardener: What special traits might you cleverly flaunt - were you a
nursery plant - to charm a consumer away from his or her hard-earned
greenbacks? If the answer is "require no maintenance and add beauty to
the garden" ... then Solomon's seal will seal the deal.
These elegant charmers are very hardy, deer resistant, seldom need
division, and have little disease or pest problems. They thrive in a
broad range of conditions: a pH from acidic to neutral, and in moist
sandy loam or humus-rich organic soil. Though tolerating sun if planted
in a cool, moist Cape Cod climate, they much prefer moderate shade, so
are happiest when tucked in with shade-loving pals like ferns,
hellebores, and bleeding hearts.
At season's end, leaves turn a glorious golden yellow and stalks
wither to fall away from their underground rhizome. The white root will
then bear a circular leaf scar, one said to resemble the official wax
seal and insignia once imprinted by the ancient King Soloman - hence its
common name.
With a royal signet to ratify its virtues, all parts of the plant (except
its poisonous blue-black berries) were
utilized over the centuries. The root relieved dry throat and cough,
improved complexion, and healed wounds, sprains, and broken bones.
Recent research has discovered why: along with sugar, gum, starch and
pectin, it contains allantoin. A powerful cell-renewing agent, allantoin
(also found in comfrey) is widely used for sports injuries and in
cosmetic products for connective-tissue repair. Young green shoots (the
tender top half) are high in flavonoids and vitamin A, and delicious
simmered like asparagus by wild-food enthusiasts. Also sipped in
tisanes as part of Traditional Chinese Medicine, the plant is now being
studied in the West for its potential to lower blood pressure.
Asian breeding and hybridizing programs are introducing lovely new
cultivars with variegated and striped leaves, bright colors, exotic
flower shape, and fragrance. Related to lily-of-the-valley and in the
Ruscaceae family (formerly in Liliaceae), Polygonatum ("jointed stem")
pubescens and latifolium can be seen here in the garden. P. biflorum
and odoratum are also widely available.
Primrose Veris
Nature's Apothecary
by Sharon Ackland
A radiant spring has come to coax fat yellow buds from the garden's
fresh black earth. Rising up from leafy rosettes, they'll soon swell to
unfurl a most singular flower. A posy with family lineage so diverse,
its 400 species span centuries as royal physics, herbs officinal and
today, rainbow-colored cultivars ... the prim and dainty primrose.
Lovely planted in wildflower or rock garden borders, primroses
blend well with other spring harbingers like bluebells and violets.
Beloved by bees, birds, and English children (who love to suck nectar
from the flowers), they provide larval food for diminishing butterfly
caterpillars as well.
From March to May, primroses put on a parade; their genus name
Primula is Latin for first (to open in spring). There is the ancient
English cowslip (Primula veris),
once known as "fairy cups" and "palsywort," with its fragrant
pale-yellow flowers nodding atop tall stems. Cowslips have now been
hybridized with the common primrose (P.
vulgaris) to yield the two most popular English primroses
sold today: P. acaulis
and P. x polyantha.
Like small hidden jewels, these modern cut-glass colors sparkle red,
purple, and blue from almost-stalkless flowers. Only citrine and amber
gems, reminiscent of their redolent ancestors, waft the soft phloxy
scent. Other species of note are the drumstick primrose (P.
denticulata) with
orbs of amethyst flowers held high on 12inch stems; and the Japanese
primrose (P.
japonica), perfect for
the wet boggy site.
Primroses like a moist soil rich in humus, with a light organic
mulch. In rare instances some annual species like
obconica may cause
contact dermatitis, so gloves may be prudent. Happy in dappled shade
with protection from hot afternoon sun, many will still go dormant in
summer. Grow from seed or propagate by root division in autumn (japonica
species increase by underground runners). Specimens may
also be obtained from plant sales of the American Primrose Society.
English cowslips, once used to flavor cowslip wine, were popular
as a cordial to cure insomnia. Flowers were tossed into "sallets" and
stirred into ointments and complexion waters for acne and sunburn. The
Head Chef to Charles I was popular for his primrose-petal confections,
which he whipped up with cream, sugar, egg and orange-flower water.
Flowers steeped in teas and anise-scented roots are employed in
European homeopathy to strengthen nerves and expel flu and pneumonia.
Recent research confirms diuretic, sedative, and expectorant qualities.
A popular liquid root extract, "Solutan," is presently taken for
headache and bronchial asthma.
To plant a primrose is to cultivate a private joy. It is to yield
to an ageless celebration of the land's rebirth. This spring consider
taking a trail less traveled ... have a wander down our primrose path
for some inspiration and renewal.
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