Many years ago, I took a class about edible flowers. I wanted to learn more about moving plants from the garden to the kitchen and it ended up being a really good time. There was a nice gal in my class named Fran and she said at one point, "I wonder if you could eat clematis blossoms. They would be so pretty in a salad." At this, the instructor took on a horrified expression and said, "Nooo!! That's Ranunculaceae! You don't eat anything - I mean, anything - in that entire family! Unless you're interested in suffering and death!" So Fran decided she wasn't going to eat clematis blossoms after all.
The instructor's words intrigued me. Some men like to drive fast cars, others collect guns or knives, and I like to grow things that can kill you. We all feel a need to live dangerously sometimes. I had never thought much about Ranunculaceae, better known to most as the buttercup family. To be sure, there were plenty of representatives in my garden but that was not something I had pursued consciously. It just so happened that I liked delphiniums and monkshood and prairie crocus; it never occurred to me that these well-known garden perennials were related or that they were violently poisonous. For some reason, nearly everything in this large family of over 1,700 plant species is toxic to some degree.
This entire group of plants intrigues me. Every time I learned something about the buttercup family, I became more and more curious about them. Greek and Roman mythology has it that monkshood sprung from the slobber of Cerberus, the three-headed dog, guardian of the gates of the underworld. An extract of monkshood was once used to poison wolves (hence one of its other common names, wolf's bane). It is also reportedly a component of witches' brew. Larkspur seed extract was used to kill body lice during the American Civil War. And most First Nations cultures have at least one story about the prairie crocus, my favourite, which involves a young man giving the crocus his coat. Ever since, the prairie crocus has worn a covering of rabbit fur. This makes me appreciate the hairy stems even more, and I think we can all do with greater appreciation for hairy stems.
Every year, I try to find new plants in the buttercup family to grow. This has sometimes involved painstaking attempts at germinating the seeds (not all of them are easy or co-operative) and searching far and wide for specific cultivars or varieties of these plants. What if I just have to get my paws on a double flowered form of marsh marigold? How would I go about acquiring the white-fruited form of baneberry? I am totally enamoured with this plant group.
My interest (okay, mild obsession) with the buttercup family has served me well. It has brought numerous and unusual plants to my garden, such as the spring Adonis, and more common and well-known perennials as well like the gorgeous and many faceted anemones. The globeflowers (Trollius) are also in this family and their relentlessly orange flowers every June fill my heart with joy. This is a family of plants well worth getting acquainted with.
[Lyndon Penner, author of The Prairie Short Season Yard, will He will be sharing his love of Ranunculaceae in a special class during the University of Saskatchewan Hort week, July 5-11. http://ccde.usask.ca/gardening/hortweek, 306-966-5546 or [email protected] for more information on courses and registration.]
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- This column is provided courtesy of the Saskatchewan Perennial Society (www.saskperennial.ca; [email protected]). Check out our Bulletin Board or Calendar for upcoming horticulture events (Labour&Learn at the Forestry Farm; garden tour July 13).
