Angel's Tears

Narcissus 'Thalia'

Daffodils are another harbinger of spring flower; and as a symbol of hope and rebirth, the flowers are often used in Easter arrangements, but they’ve been used much longer than the Christian religious celebration. Archeologists have found Daffodils in ancient Egypt’s tombs and funerary wreaths. Is it any wonder so much lore surrounds these flowers?

The botanical name ‘Narcissus’ shows another symbol of the flower: unrequited love. In Greek myth, Narcissus was the vain young man who spurned the Nymph Echo; then while taking a drink from a pool of water, he saw himself and fell in love with his reflection – a lover who could never return his love.

Certainly many daffodils could represent the image of vain, self-indulgent youth, especially those with the look-at-me yellow flowers, or even those with more subtle colorings and shapes. Yet, if ever there were a Narcissus that represents the mythical young man of Greek lore, I would choose the daffodil ‘Thalia.’ The beautiful, pristine white flowers arch downward as if seeking their reflection and, according to Allan M. Armitage, are along with other daffodils in the triandus class, “Often called the angel’s tears daffodil” (Herbaceous Perennial Plants. Varsity Press, Athens, Georgia.1989. Page 421). Thalia’s scent is certainly heavenly, and the scent is noticeable from far down the garden path, no need to get your nose in the middle of these flowers. They are vigorous bulbs, increasing each year and making an ever more impressive display, and they are very hardy.

Another piece of lore claims that receiving a single daffodil brings bad luck. I received luck. While recovering in the hospital many years ago from a nearly fatal automobile accident, a co-worker brought me a 5# tin can filled with at least fifty bright yellow daffodils. For a depressed patient, her gift gave a piece of spring, sunshine to brighten a hospital room, and certainly hope for recovery. I did, and think of her with every daffodil I see.

The most welcomed harbinger of spring

Crocus, Spring, and Writing

I love flowers, but also the plants, the botany, and both their and my responses to the seasons, so somehow a garden scene of some sort shows up in my books. From my experiences and emotions about changing seasons, I hope I insert metaphoric meaning using gardens. Most of you, I am sure, have already had spring emerge where you live, but here in Northern Michigan, mounds of snow cover my garden, and although I had Snowdrops at this time last year, we had four more inches of snow yesterday. More is expected today. So I wait with hope for the promise of spring, just as I wrote in my first novel, Magic Aegis:

The garden looked beautiful even under the snow. The gray stems of parterre shrubs seemed to form a cleaner pattern, its framework more distinct. The hard work of pruning them had provided visual results. Swaying branches of the fruit trees, striated in smooth bark, created moving mosaics on the clear blue sky. Patterns in the wall were picked out with bright snow and the air held a frigid scent of promised renewal.

With fresh resolve, she rose at long last and shook the snow off her cloak and skirts. A bright color unseen at the side of the bench caught her eye. A small purple and yellow crocus bud emerged from the snowy blanket. The sight cheered her. Beyond the wall she heard crows cawing, and feeling different somehow, she left the garden.

Hope your spring has sprung. I’m waiting.

When Plants Strike Back

Rhododendron-- beautiful but poisonous
-- so are the cousin plants
 azaleas and laurel shrubs.

When I was a preteen--can't remember my exact age--I caught a bad case of poison ivy, most likely from walking in the woods. I was miserable for two weeks, and literally covered head to toe in red, blistered, and oozing skin to the point I was physically ill. By the time I recovered, I was very careful to look about me when in the wild for those leaves of three. For years I suffered hypersensitivity to the plant, but now, not so much. I've known others who could walk through the stuff in shorts and pull the vines from trees with their bare hands with no effect. Since becoming a garden enthusiast, I've learned all those sappy or scent-laden plants can pose dangers to certain people.

While individuals quickly learn any fruit and vegetable they are allergic to, they are often less aware of the dangers in their yards, flower gardens, or inside among the houseplants. Some plants are fatally poisonous; others just make a person very ill, or cause severe dermatitis. Most gardeners know the 'dangerous' plants, those so poisonous they watch their grandchildren don't pick or eat them. Any of these plants can be fatal: caster bean seeds, the twigs and leaves of cherry trees, delphinium, foxglove (digitalis), hemlock (looks similar to queen ann's lace), jasmine berries, all parts of the jimson weed, larkspur (the annual delphinium), aconitum or monkshood, oeleander berries, and the leafy parts of rhubarb and tomatoes. Yet, do home owners know the ubiquitous yew shrub in their landscaping can also be fatally poisonous?

These are often the most toxic plants, mostly due to the various alkaloids they produce. Other plants, which most gardeners don't expect to cause trouble, do. Plant parts like the bulbs of many of those lovely spring flowers including daffodils and hyacinth. The milky saps from certain plants like milkweed can cause skin problems for some people. Another hazard? Scent. A vase containing Stargazer or Casa Blanca lilies with their strong, sweet smell, can induce migraines in susceptible people (me). The best way to prevent accidental problems is to know your plants. One of the best sources I've found for poisonous garden plants is North Carolina State University's Poisonous Plants web pages. Michigan State University has a downloadable file of 21 of the most hazardous native or wild plants. While both list only local varieties for their local, these plants are common to many other areas. I've also another list of troublesome, common garden plants on my garden blog.

    Trixie's Hot Box, an adult content urban fantasy romance. Witches aren't what you expect. From MuseItUp Publishing.