Crocus

Crocus: Cheerfulness, gladness, abuse not

The crocus. It is a mysterious flower. We can find many things about this little beauty, but they almost all contradict one another. All agree however, that this delightful little flower has been prized for thousands of years for its medicinal properties and welcome sight of first spring.

Legends also abound for the crocus.According to one, young Crocus was a shepherd boy with a fine and noble spirit. He fell deeply in love with the lovely nymph, Smilax. Being impressed with the depth of his devotion, the gods granted him immortality and turned him in to a flower. They also transformed Smilax into an evergreen, the yew, to ensure the two would be always together.

Another legend about the crocus (though probably a different variety –  the prairie crocus) states that a little, white flower taught a young Blackfoot boy, Wapee, about kindness, loneliness, courage, wisdom, and peace. Wapee is so grateful that he prays to the Great Spirit on behalf of the flower: “May he have purple-blue of the mountains in his petals,” he prayed, “a golden sun in his heart to gladden him when the sun hides from the world, and a coat like my fur robe to warm him when the wind blows cold off the snow. And perhaps some company, for after I have gone.” The Great Spirit was pleased and granted Wapee’s request.

“Crocii and Snowdrops on Marble Ledge,” by Johan Laurentz Jensen

The Crocuses

by Frances E. W. Harper

In the everlasting arms
Mid life’s dangers and alarms
Let calm trust your spirit fill;
Know He’s God, and then be still.”

Trustingly I raised my head
Hearing what the atom said;
Knowing man is greater far
Than the brightest sun or star.

They heard the South wind sighing
A murmur of the rain;
And they knew that Earth was longing
To see them all again.

While the snow-drops still were sleeping
Beneath the silent sod;
They felt their new life pulsing
Within the dark, cold clod.

Not a daffodil nor daisy
Had dared to raise its head;
Not a fairhaired dandelion
Peeped timid from its bed;

Though a tremor of the winter
Did shivering through them run;
Yet they lifted up their foreheads
To greet the vernal sun.

And the sunbeams gave them welcome.
As did the morning air
And scattered o’er their simple robes
Rich tints of beauty rare.

Soon a host of lovely flowers
From vales and woodland burst;
But in all that fair procession
The crocuses were first.

First to weave for Earth a chaplet
To crown her dear old head;
And to beautify the pathway
Where winter still did tread.

And their loved and white haired mother
Smiled sweetly ’neath the touch,
When she knew her faithful children
Were loving her so much.

Chamomile

Chamomile: Patience, attracts wealth

Chamomile has a distinct scent similar to apples, which is how it got its name from the Greeks: kamaimelon.  That is a combination of the Greek kamai, which means “on the ground,” and melon, which means “an apple.” Spaniards call it Manzanilla, which means “little apple.” Manzanilla is also the name of an exceptionally light Spanish sherry that is flavored with chamomile.

Chamomile has many, many uses, herbal and otherwise. It is widely used in teas and infusions  as a sort of cure-all, and is now thought to significantly boost the immune system. However, chamomile should be avoided by pregnant mothers as there is some speculation that it causes problems during the pregnancy.

“White Chamomile Flowers with Blue Background,” by Vitali Komorav

Egyptians believed chamomile cured ague, and reverenced it so much for that that they dedicated it to their gods!

Chamomile has been referred to as the “plant’s physician” because if a plant is drooping and sickly, it will, in 9 out of 10 cases, recover if you plant chamomile near it!

Cattails

Cattails: Peace and prosperity

Cattails are wetland plants that play an important role in the process of coverting open water into vegetated marshland and eventually into dry land. The root system helps prevent erosion. The silky down can be used to stuff life jackets, mattresses, and furniture.

They are extremely versitile when it comes to cooking uses. The pollen can be used as flour; the roots contain starch and can be boiled and eaten like potatoes or dried and ground into flour or used as a cornstarch subsitute. Some Indians also use the rootstaks to make jelly. A couple types of oil, similar to linseed oil and cooking oil, can be extracted from the seeds. A wax can also be extracted from the seeds. The left-over product is a type of meal that can be used in chicken and cattle feed. The young green flowering stalks can be boiled and eaten like sweet corn.

To make cattail jelly, harvest roots after the first flower has been rubbed out.

• Boil roots for 10 minutes in enough water to cover them.

• For every cup of liquid, add an equal amount of sugar.

• Add a package of pectin for every 4 cups of juice.

The finished product supposedly tastes and looks similar to honey.

HERE is a site that has a recipe for cattail pancakes.

Calendula

Calendula: Joy

Calendula flowers have been prized throughout the ages for it’s extensive medicinal uses, for it’s power as a type or seasoning, and just as a beautiful flower. Early Christians called it “Mary’s Gold,” and adorned statues of Mary with it.

The Greek mythological story of King Midas is connnected to the calendula. He was so greedy for more and more gold that he prayed that everything he touched would be turned into gold. His wish was granted, and eventually he found that it brought more heartache than anything. His power for turning things into gold was reversed, with the exception of one small flower whose petals remained gold to serve as a reminder.

In the middle ages it was thought that drinking a strong concoction of calendula enabled a person to see faeries. Also, if a young woman rubbed a mixture of calendula and various other herbs on her body, she would have dreams that would help her choose the right man to marry.

Buttercups

Buttercups: Cheerfulness or childishness

These bright little flowers were once thought to cause the yellow color of butter, but the cows avoid eating buttercups because of their acrid flavor.

The Latin name for buttercups, Ranunculus, means “little frog,” and probably refers to the flower’s tendency to grow near water.

“Beguiling Buttercup,” by Norman Rockwell

Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-Me-Not

by Eugene Field

Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not—
These three bloomed in a garden spot;
And once, all merry with song and play,
A little one heard three voices say:
“Shine and shadow, summer and spring,
O thou child with the tangled hair
And laughing eyes! we three shall bring
Each an offering passing fair.”
The little one did not understand,
But they bent and kissed the dimpled hand.

Buttercup gambolled all day long,
Sharing the little one’s mirth and song;
Then, stealing along on misty gleams,
Poppy came bearing the sweetest dreams.
Playing and dreaming—and that was all
Till once a sleeper would not awake:
Kissing the little face under the pall,
We thought of the words the third flower spake;
And we found betimes in a hallowed spot
The solace and peace of Forget-me-not.

Buttercup shareth the joy of day,
Glinting with gold the hours of play;
Bringeth the Poppy sweet repose,
When the hands would fold and the eyes would close;
And after it all—the play and the sleep
Of a little life—what cometh then?
To the hearts that ache and the eyes that weep
A new flower bringeth God’s peace again.
Each one serveth its tender lot—
Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not.

The Gilbert and Sullivan opera, H.M.S. Pinafore, has a song titled “I’m Called Little Buttercup.”

Hail, men-o’-war’s men — safeguards of your nation
Here is an end, at last, of all privation;
You’ve got your pay — spare all you can afford
To welcome Little Buttercup on board.

I’m called Little Buttercup — dear Little Buttercup,
Though I could never tell why,
But still I’m called Buttercup — poor little Buttercup,
Sweet Little Buttercup I!

I’ve snuff and tobaccy, and excellent jacky,
I’ve scissors, and watches, and knives;
I’ve ribbons and laces to set off the faces
Of pretty young sweethearts and wives.

I’ve treacle and toffee, I’ve tea and I’ve coffee,
Soft tommy and succulent chops;
I’ve chickens and conies, and pretty polonies,
And excellent peppermint drops.

Then buy of your Buttercup — dear Little Buttercup;
Sailors should never be shy;
So, buy of your Buttercup — poor Little Buttercup;
Come, of your Buttercup buy!

Bluebells

Bluebells: Humility and constancy

Bluebells grow a lot of places: North America, western Europe, and north Africa, though they are native to Spain and Portugal. They grow in forests, grasslands, mountainsides, ocean sides, and brush places. They sound like quite hardy little flowers!

In fairy folk-lore, bluebells are used to call the fairies to a convention. Thus their occasional name “fairy thimbles.” Humans could not attend these conventions, and if they even heard the bluebells ring their life would be in danger!

“Bluebells,” by Ernest Walbourn

The Bluebell

by Anne Bronté

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

Yet I recall not long ago
A bright and sunny day,
‘Twas when I led a toilsome life
So many leagues away;

That day along a sunny road
All carelessly I strayed,
Between two banks where smiling flowers
Their varied hues displayed.

Before me rose a lofty hill,
Behind me lay the sea,
My heart was not so heavy then
As it was wont to be.

Less harassed than at other times
I saw the scene was fair,
And spoke and laughed to those around,
As if I knew no care.

But when I looked upon the bank
My wandering glances fell
Upon a little trembling flower,
A single sweet bluebell.

Whence came that rising in my throat,
That dimness in my eye?
Why did those burning drops distil —
Those bitter feelings rise?

O, that lone flower recalled to me
My happy childhood’s hours
When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts
A prize among the flowers,

Those sunny days of merriment
When heart and soul were free,
And when I dwelt with kindred hearts
That loved and cared for me.

I had not then mid heartless crowds
To spend a thankless life
In seeking after others’ weal
With anxious toil and strife.

‘Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times
That never may return!’
The lovely floweret seemed to say,
And thus it made me mourn.

“The Bluebell Wood,” Alfred Fontville de Breanski

Bells of Ireland

Bells of Ireland: Good luck

Some facts about this interesting flower is that it attracts butterflies and bees. It propagates itself quite well, and it is resistant to deer. Sounds like good luck to me!

The name merely alludes to the stunning green color of the bells. It actually hails from Syria.

THIS site has some interesting theories about the effects from taking the essence of Bells of Ireland.

The Bells of Ireland

Song by Rosalie Sorrels

These are the Bells of Ireland, that in my garden grow,
My great-grandmother brought those seeds from Ireland long ago.
Their music it is wild and sad, like orphaned angels sing,
And you must listen in your soul to hear the Bells of Ireland ring.

My mother’s father had the look of Ireland’s heroes bold,
Strong broad shoulders, raven eyes to look into your soul.
My father’s mother’s face was a map of the roads Maeve’s feet had trod.
Rose of the world, I’m named for her. Lord, I love her lost old sod!

CHORUS

I’ve never been to Ireland, though I sing of the cool green shores,
And I dream I must have lived there some century before.
I weep for the blood and the troubles, and I tend my garden well.
Let the sweet green bells of Ireland out-ring the bells of hell.

CHORUS

Baby’s Breath

Baby’s Breath: Everlasting love, innocence, pure of heart

Baby’s breath are mostly used in flower arrangements, and are especially prized for dried flower arrangement fillers.

The plant is also commonly used as a hardy border.

One species of baby’s breath that is native to the eastern Mediterranean is used with sesame seeds and honey to make halva.

THIS website provides good information on growing baby’s breath.

"Flowers in a Pot, aka, Roses and Baby's Breath," by Claude Monet

"White Flowers in a White Vase," by David Col

Bird of Paradise

Bird of Paradise: Magnificence

Once again, the meaning is very appropriate! This is a magnificent flower! The green seeds of this flower can be eaten when cooked, and, when they’re ripe, they yield tannins and yellow and black dyes.

Dream Love

by George William (A.E.) Russell

I did not deem it half so sweet
To feel thy gentle hand,
As in a dream thy soul to greet
Across wide leagues of land.

Untouched more near to draw to you
Where, amid radiant skies,
Glimmered thy plumes of iris hue,
My Bird of Paradise.

Let me dream only with my heart,
Love first, and after see:
Know thy diviner counterpart
Before I kneel to thee.

So in thy motions all expressed
Thy angel I may view:
I shall not on thy beauty rest,
But beauty’s self in you.

“Bird of Paradise,” by Charles Francois Sellier

Bachelor Buttons

Bachelor Button: Blessed singleness

Bachelor buttons, or cornflowers, have historically grown wild in fields such as wheat, rye, and barley. These fields used to be known as “corn fields” in England, thus the name “cornflower.” Unfortunately, they are now actually endangered in their natural habitat as a result of excessive use of herbicides to increase crop production.

“Blue Cornflowers,” by Margaret Olley

The flowers have also been used mashed to make blue food coloring for pastries and water colors. They can also be used in salads. A decoction of it is an effective treatment of conjunctivitis.

According to some, bachelor buttons were worn by young men in love. If the flowers faded too quickly their love wasn’t returned.

“Vase with Cornflowers and Poppies,” by Vincent Van Gogh