Archive for September, 2010

Inedible Ink

Inedible Ink . . .

 

American Pokeweed (Phytolacca americana) grows against a garden fence on West 11th Street. (photo taken 09 24 2010)

 

American Pokeweed, Phytolacca americana, is another standard-bearer of late summer and early autumn flora. This fruity perennial is also one of the most deceptive of the common wild flowering plants. The large leaves appear as lush and salad-ready as leaf lettuce. The numerous clusters of berries are big, dark, and juicy, not unlike the elderberry. This outward appearance masks a frustrating reality: the entire Pokeberry plant is poisonous in its raw state, and its leaves are only marginally edible after repeated boiling.

This native American member of the genus Phytolaccaceae can grow to be very large, sometimes as tall as ten feet when left alone. A long, strong taproot helps to make this height possible, as it gives the plant enough stability to soar. The ovate leaves are deep green and alternate along the stems, which lean toward the red end of the spectrum, not unlike rhubarb. Pokeweed’s flowers are the plant’s flagship feature, making identification simple. Each plant will hold raceme clusters that simultaneously display several stages of development on the way to maturation. First, the flowers, which lack petals, nevertheless bloom in the form of white sepals supported by pedicles and peduncles of the same shade. As the season progresses, the sepals likewise transform down the length of the raceme. Small green berries emerge and later turn a dark purple supported by pedicles and peduncles that possess an eerie pinkish coloration similar to uncooked red meat.

 

Close-up of an American Pokeweed: each raceme ranges from flower to fruit. (photo taken 09 24 2010)

 

The fruits hang in inviting drooping clusters when at their peak of color. While poisonous to humans and other mammals, the berries are a favorite of songbirds, which cannot digest the seeds, the part that contains the active saponin toxins. The juice is very dark, and stains clothes easily, as any exploring angler who has hiked along a lake or stream bordered by Pokeweed can attest. This lasting color was used as an ink in the 19th Century. Many of the letters authored by soldiers during the Civil War used Pokeweed ink, which was readily available to them in the field.

Today, in 2010, American Pokeweed is not so common in the West Village. The first specimen I encountered was in the small park adjacent to the corner of 14th Street and Tenth Avenue. This plant was weeded out in early September before I could take a photograph. Frustrated by the plant’s premature demise, I searched in vain until the day I discovered Bittersweet growing along Waverly Place ( the street address of Donald Draper in the “Mad Men” TV series); an experience I described in my previous essay. Just after I took my notes and some photos of the Bittersweet vine, I turned the corner on West 11th Street and walked directly into a single large Pokeweed growing, and flowering, from a ceramic pot placed in front of a brownstone townhouse. The plant was so tall it had bent over, creased at the main stem, so it leaned against a black iron fence for support.

I was not able to picture the majestic spread of a giant flowering plant, yet I did have a living example for the Wildflowers of the West Village. And I knew the chirping cardinals and mewing catbirds on that shaded block had an attractive fruit all for their own dessert.

 

American Pokeweed raceme on display near Waverly Place, the street address of Donald Draper in the "Mad Men" TV series. (photo taken 09 24 2010)

 

– rPs 09 28 2010

Comments (1)

A Bittersweet Reunion

A Bittersweet Reunion . . .

Bittersweet (Solanum dulcamara) grows along Waverly Place in the West Village. (photo taken 09 24 2010)

The Common Nightshade was profiled in Wildflowers of the West Village during July when the plant began to flower throughout the area. This variety of Solanaceae continues to thrive in the neighborhood’s tree pits and along the edges of construction sites even now that autumn has arrived.

I had mentioned the role the Nightshade played in my youth; its fruit being ammunition for berry battles that resulted in stained clothes. One detail I did not relate was that the variety we most often encountered in the weedy lots and hillsides of our Pittsburgh neighborhood had purple flowers and red berries, not the white blooms and purple fruit of the Common Nightshade.

This week, I walked along Waverly Place, one of the greener, shadier stretches of the West Village located one short block west of Seventh Avenue. There, near the corner of West 11th Street, I had a homecoming of sorts, one that was bittersweet in a good way:

Bittersweet, also known as Bittersweet Nightshade, Solanum dulcamara

This is the variety of the genus Solanum I remember from my boyhood. The plant reveals the connection to its family in a way that fuses aspects of its cousins the potato and the tomato. This Nightshade, an herbaceous perennial, grows as a vine of distended, heart-shaped leaves like the former and its fruit is ovoid and red like the latter, only rendered in the size of a costume pearl. The flower is an attractive star of five purple petals with a projecting golden stamen; a distinctive blossom, and beautiful, displayed in hanging clusters.

Flower:

The bloom of Bittersweet is a purple star with a projecting golden stamen. (photo taken 09 24 2010)

Fruit:

The fruit of Bittersweet resembles a miniature ripe tomato. (photo taken 09 24 2010)

Like several of the other Wildflowers of the West Village, this one has had a reoccurring part in my background, the stage setting where my broader outdoor experiences have played out. A few years ago, during a long bike ride in Philadelphia, I paused beside the Schuylkill River and sat in the grass for a rest. I noticed a Bittersweet in bloom along the bush line nearby and took a few moments to compose a quick drawing of the scene in my travel sketchbook. A passing moment, a bit of natural color, committed to memory through art; a short newsreel of my life experience retained, in part, because of a wildflower.

Bittersweet, like most members of the Nightshade family, is poisonous and should be admired only for its aesthetics. This native of Europe and Asia is an attractive ground cover, can be trained to wrap and coil around trees and fences, and would make a complementary color companion to the purple morning glories now showing their flowered faces all throughout New York City.

– rPs 09 24 2010

Leave a Comment

Thumb’s Up

Thumb’s Up . . .

Lady's Thumb (Persicaria vulgaris) blooms within a tree pit on West 12th Street near Fifth Avenue. (photo taken 06 23 2010)

The summer of 2010 is drawing quickly toward its conclusion on the calendar. The heat and humidity have begun to wane in favor of crisp days and cool nights. The wildflowers of the West Village are also approaching the end of the growing season. Those that remain are some of the hardier and more common annuals, one of which is the most familiar member of the knotweed family: the distinctively pink flowering Lady’s Thumb, Persicaria vulgaris.

Lady’s Thumb is another one of those iconic wildflowers that has been a part of my own personal outdoor experiences since I was a boy. During my summer vacations, whenever I set out to go bird watching in the scrub woods flanking the city steps of Pittsburgh, or hiked down to the Allegheny River to dunk bread balls for carp and catfish, there was, along the edges of my eyesight, the pink blooms of Lady’s Thumb. The flowers, actually upright compound racemes called panicles, consist of small individual blossoms, which always reminded me of tiny bunches of grapes, set downside up.

Closeup of a Lady's Thumb bloom, actually a compound raceme called a panicle. (photo taken 06 23 2010)

Lady’s Thumb grows throughout the green spaces of the West Village and tends to establish colonies. The plant will frequently take over a tree pit if one becomes rooted and is left undisturbed. I found such a batch sprouting along West 12th Street during the month of June, and the plants continue to thrive there.

This knotweed is a European immigrant, a member of the family Polygonaceae, and its identification is complicated only by one other plant, one of Asian extraction. The deep green and hairless lanceolate leaves alternate along its stems and resemble the Asiatic Dayflower before it blooms. Like the Dayflower, the leaves are edible when steamed and have a flavor akin to spring pea pods. When the pink panicles begin to emerge above the leaves, there is no more confusion, as its blooming in no way resembles the two dainty blue petals of the Dayflower.

She is, in fact, one tough lady. The hardiness of Lady’s Thumb can be witnessed along the edges of construction sites, sometimes even in sidewalk cracks. The plant will grow wherever it finds a hint of soil and can begin to bloom when it is little more than a sprig standing a few inches in height.

Attractive, yet relatively understudied, Lady’s Thumb is one of the last of the summer season’s wild flowering faces. Its presence along the margins offers a positive thumb’s up in the form of its pretty-in-pink blooms.

A tree pit colony of Lady's Thumb along West 12th Street contines to bloom during the waning days of the summer season. (photo taken 09 18 2010)

– rPs 09 18 2010

Leave a Comment

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.