Horticultural Experiment

Day 71: Here you see the beginnings of another of Crow's infamous horticultural experiments: the collection and seed-cleaning of Comptonia peregrina nutlets, preparatory to attempting to germinate them indoors. I was rather surprised to find out that the plant doesn't seem to self-sow here in the Pacific Northwest, although it does send underground runners out at least ten feet. On the East Coast where it is native, it often forms substantial groves of shrubbery. On the other hand, it's leggy and unkempt in its native environment, but mine keeps a compact shape with only enough pruning to keep its lush foliage from blocking my sidewalk. As shrubs go, it's certainly not what you'd term an "ornamental," but oh, the fragrance! It well deserves its common names of Sweetfern or Spicebush. Even in the winter months when the leaves are dry and brittle, they hold their scent. Freshly cut in summer, they will perfume a room. When green, the nutlets (inset) may resemble burrs, but they are softly spiny, not prickly. Each one contains several hard, dark brown seeds when ripe. Comptonia foliage may be used to brew a somewhat bitter herbal tea which may be drunk or applied to the skin to treat poison ivy rashes.

Sweetfern Nutlets

Day 247: Sweetfern (Comptonia peregrina, aka Spicebush) is not native to the Pacific Northwest. Neither are Japanese Maple, Hydrangea, Euonymus nor a host of other shrubs you may find in our gardens. Comptonia grows wild in the hills of the east coast. My particular specimen followed me home from Maine where it grew leggy with long stretches of stem showing through sparse leaves. In my garden, it is a bush, a green mound of fragrant foliage which I keep carefully maintained to prevent it from spreading in the manner of its kind. It is notorious for sending out underground runners which may pop up ten feet away from the parent stock. However, my plant does not seem to propagate by seed even though it forms soft, spiny nutlets, giving rise to my affectionate nickname for it: Fuzz-nuts. Although my specimen is much bushier than its Maine cousins, the lushness of its foliage is not its main attraction. It is the sweet, spicy scent. The foliage is very aromatic, and the slightest brush against it releases the volatile oils responsible for its fragrance. That said, if cut and brought into the house, the scent is short-lived. Still, if you prune the plant to manage its form, those cut branches will look lovely on your mantelpiece even if they only do give you a few hours of olfactory pleasure.

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.