365Caws is now in its 16th year of publication. If I am unable to post daily, I hope readers who love the natural world and fiberarts will seize those days to read the older material. Remember that this has been my journey as well, so you may find errors in my identifications of plants. I have tried to correct them as I discover them. Likewise, I have refined fiberarts techniques and have adjusted recipes, so search by tags to find the most current information. And thank you for following me!
Friday, June 7, 2019
Marsh Marigold, Caltha Leptosepala
Day 237: At least its Latin binomial hasn't changed recently, but if ever there was a confusing common name, "Marsh Marigold" should be somewhere near the top of the list. Most English-speaking people think of marigolds in terms of the orange-yellow-brown pompoms along our garden borders. In fact, those belong to another genus entirely: Tagetes. Worse, they are in a different family (Asteraceae) than Caltha leptosepala (Ranunculaceae). The leaves of our bedding marigold are finely divided (pinnate) and look lacy, quite unlike the somewhat leathery, kidney-shaped foliage of the plant featured above. So how in bloody blue blazes did Caltha leptosepala come to be known as Marsh Marigold? Blame religion. I've backed up the commonly accepted version of word-lore with reliable etymological references because it caused my eyebrows to raise in doubt, but it's apparently true. The word "marigold" derives from "Mary's gold" and refers to the bouquets of early-emerging yellow flowers which were used to give tribute to the purported mother of Christ. Any yellow flower placed in her shrine was called "Mary's gold," i.e., "marigold." There are several yellow Calthas, and the word was applied to them as well since their flowers also emerge early, making them a good candidate for reverential use (and never mind the lack of a scientific base). Does the plant have a better common name? "Elkslip" is not often heard here in the Pacific Northwest, but I think I may have to work on popularizing it. That said, another thought has crossed my mind: maybe I can claim that all those yellow "lawn-daisies" in my front yard are marigolds. Surely somebody laid a nosegay of dandelions at Mary's feet some time in the past?
Labels:
Caltha leptosepala,
etymology,
Marsh Marigold,
MORA
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