This is the 15th year of continuous daily publication for 365Caws. All things considered, it's likely it will be the last year as it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to find interesting material. However, I hope that I may have inspired someone to a greater curiosity about the natural world with my natural history posts, or encouraged a novice weaver or needleworker. If so, I've done what I set out to do.
Thursday, January 3, 2019
What You Don't Know...
Day 82: They say (and I will be one of the first to point out: quite erroneously) that what you don't know won't hurt you. Ignorance of blasting caps aside, you can get yourself into some pretty bad situations if you're not fully apprised of the facts, and as far as plants go, many invasives have been introduced into areas in complete innocence. The classic example is the common dandelion. The two most common species were brought to the North American continent by a person or persons who wanted a reminder of their European home. Now they're a pest. There are more subtle examples and not all introduced plants have the potential for out-competing native species; it's only when they escape the cultivated garden that they become known as "weeds."
The shrub Comptonia peregrina (Sweetfern or Spicebush) is native to the eastern parts of the US. When I was visiting a friend in New Hampshire many years ago, I fell in love with the spicy scent of its foliage and decided to bring a slip home. It's said to be difficult to transplant. Perhaps because I didn't know that, I treated it in the manner which has proved successful for me with many other plants: I stuck it in a pot, bedded the pot and slip in the garden, and allowed the roots to form for a year before putting it directly in the ground. Not only did it "take," it flourished. My garden specimen was easily twice as densely leafed as any I'd seen back east. It liked me! It wasn't until some time later that I became aware of two facts about Comptonia. First, it is notorious for establishing monocultures. Second, the foliage has a reputation for being "poor-man's marijuana." No wonder I got some strange looks from people who saw it in my flower bed!
True to its nature, its roots have spread ten feet or more, popping up new plants further down the line. I manage them with a sharp shovel, keeping the growth confined to the original trunk. It is in no danger of taking over my garden, and from time to time, I enjoy the fragrance of a handful of leaves crushed and set in a bowl on my dresser...crushed, I said, not smoked.
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