On being, a fools-gardener of the allotment garden of
Nowhere in particular.
Allotment pond area - 6th July 2013
I was lost in a patch of the allotment that has been called a wildflower garden. The patch is situated next to the poly-tunnel, by the pond, in the nether region of the site, and in spring we sowed a mix of wildflower seeds and assorted salad herbs there. We have been looking out for and welcoming those plants of the seed mix which have managed to make their way between and above the canopy of more established and vigorous plants or weeds. The current star (of the show) in this floral constellation, the strike, shall we say, in my, the allotment gardener of Nowhere in particular's eye, is this plant:
What is the plant? Do I need the name more than some communicable sense of why or how I find this plant so alluring and captivating? I am no 'John Clare', and a poetic comparison with him, 'thee peasant poet', can only be made by a very marginal stretch of the imagination. It may be a lack of imagination that compelled me to try and positively identify the plant and, as a consequence, lose a connection with the poetry of the plant. A hesitant, delicate caress, and brief voyeuristic f-stop-encounters were all I made before heading off for the known of this particular pleasure of the soil.
Saturday 6th July 2013.
The excellent website http://wildflowerfinder.org.uk/ offers plant identifiers the opportunity to find a plant according to the colour of its flowers. I searched the 'mauve' section and felt confident I had beheld a Corn-cockle. I picked a virtual corn-cockle and headed for my copy of, Flora Britannica (Richard Mabey) and found a paragraph and an illustration on pages 100 and 101; a corn-cockle (Agrostemma githago / Kiss-me-quick) I think it is*.
While the venerable Mr Mabey comments on the 'possibly even poisonous' nature of the plant, other persons and institutions seem more convinced of it's toxicity. I would like to stay with Mr Mabey for a few more lines, before I wade into the fetid emissions of unfortunate eructing and defecating equine and bovine cogitators; for the paragraph in Flora Britannica about the Corncockle presents wildflower gardens in inverted commas thus, 'wildflower gardens'.
While the venerable Mr Mabey comments on the 'possibly even poisonous' nature of the plant, other persons and institutions seem more convinced of it's toxicity. I would like to stay with Mr Mabey for a few more lines, before I wade into the fetid emissions of unfortunate eructing and defecating equine and bovine cogitators; for the paragraph in Flora Britannica about the Corncockle presents wildflower gardens in inverted commas thus, 'wildflower gardens'.
What assessment of the psychological state of 'an allotment gardener of Nowhere in particular', would you make if he/she/it told you that the inverted commas about (the) wildflower gardens appeared and behaved like mosquitoes and midges? I complained that the commas were menacing me just like 'a bite' (a collective noun for midges?) of midges does when dusk descends upon the allotment. In the twilight hours the pond and the immediate surroundings can teem with voracious appetites for human flesh and blood and once satiated they, the midges and mosquitoes, have left some very sore and swollen bites. I think my/our sensitivity to the presence of the inverted commas in the cultural flux of wild, wildness and wilderness may be due to our perception they are applied to express scepticism about the inclusion, if not misappropriation, of the word, 'wild' in wildflower garden. What sort of wild thing is our corncockle when beheld so prosaically and facilely, like a floral pin up plucked from the mysterious and site-specific mingling modifications of the garden?
The mainstream environmentalism and custodianship of our well intended patch for pollinators may express 'those authoritarian reflexes that are the root cause of the very ecological crises custodianship is trying to cure'.** Is there a facile identification with that flower in what might be an oxymoron in the sense, or nonsense, of a wild - (flower) - garden? Our motivation for sowing seeds in that area was to add to the diversity of pollinator-friendly plants.
Back in June, I tried to interview an insect about the merits of the flower patch however, not surprisingly, there was an insurmountable language barrier. The interview was abandoned when a very big bite of 'figure of speeches' mobbed me, the hapless allotment gardener of Nowhere in particular. Pain stopped play.
We must return to the main focus of our news report, the importance of being aware of poisonous plants. Agrostemma githago is a poisonous plant. I am not entirely sure the plant featured in our pictures is a corncockle. I suggest I prefix all my identifications with 'fools-' - so, 'fools-corncockle'? My reluctance to be confident about the identification is due to the potentially very toxic nature of the plant and, in the unlikely event of my allotment garden ramblings being of any consequence, I shall disclaim.
Our awareness of the toxicity of Agrostemma githago comes via an assortment of websites and pages:
The mainstream environmentalism and custodianship of our well intended patch for pollinators may express 'those authoritarian reflexes that are the root cause of the very ecological crises custodianship is trying to cure'.** Is there a facile identification with that flower in what might be an oxymoron in the sense, or nonsense, of a wild - (flower) - garden? Our motivation for sowing seeds in that area was to add to the diversity of pollinator-friendly plants.
Back in June, I tried to interview an insect about the merits of the flower patch however, not surprisingly, there was an insurmountable language barrier. The interview was abandoned when a very big bite of 'figure of speeches' mobbed me, the hapless allotment gardener of Nowhere in particular. Pain stopped play.
June 26th 2013.
We must return to the main focus of our news report, the importance of being aware of poisonous plants. Agrostemma githago is a poisonous plant. I am not entirely sure the plant featured in our pictures is a corncockle. I suggest I prefix all my identifications with 'fools-' - so, 'fools-corncockle'? My reluctance to be confident about the identification is due to the potentially very toxic nature of the plant and, in the unlikely event of my allotment garden ramblings being of any consequence, I shall disclaim.
Our awareness of the toxicity of Agrostemma githago comes via an assortment of websites and pages:
What are the factors and/or conditions that determine the toxicity of a plant e.g. Agrostemma githago? Could soil type, proximity to other plants, site conditions, e.g. drainage, affect the degree of toxicity?
What are the risks of someone or something actually being poisoned by the Corncockles in our relatively minute patch; an area of c. 9sqm? I think there is a very low risk of anyone experiencing the grim and gruesome effects of Corncockle consumption described in the document from Illinois.
It was with some pride and pleasure that I declared my new-found knowledge of the allotment flora to one of my fellow gardeners. We stood by the patch, I pointed to the flower and announced, 'this is a Corncockle. It's very poisonous!' My fellow gardener listened and watched patiently as I regurgitated (on) the 'toxicity' of the plant. All sense of doubt and curiosity was lost in the act of trying to affirm myself as, the one who knows, the one who is the authority. I was so desperate to impress and convince the unknowing other I even performed a mock poisoned pig act! Well, actually I didn't go as far as that. Acting like a poisoned pig is something I imagine having done although, of course, it would have been in bad taste. Poisoned livestock is no laughing matter. We agreed it was wise to be aware of any plant on the site that could be poisonous.
My patient friend and fellow then transported us to another more remote association with the menace of the cereal field. We found ourselves on board the Mary Celeste wondering not if ergot contaminated bread/flour had caused a mass and fatal hallucination in the crew but the possibility of 'corn-cockle-poisoning'. We drifted with the deserted vessel awhile and then found our way back to the allotment with it's bountiful and mysterious biochemical array, including the triterine saponins that are, potentially, a menace of one of the defining elements of civilization - cereal. There in the very domesticated field, we contemplated the remoteness of wilderness (' ') and the closeness of wildness (' ') embodied in the corncockle plant.
Later, while cycling home with our safe and entirely edible daily bag of fruit and veg' pickings, we recalled watching the film, 'Into the Wild', in which the central character, Christopher McCandless is imagined in his death throes, uttering and quoting from Dr Zhivago (Boris Pasternak) - 'to call each thing by its right name'.
* - My disclaimer, any plant identification I make on this blog should be regarded as unreliable.
** - from, Nature Cure, Richard Mabey. (2008). (http://richardmabey.co.uk/)
Some other references for your convenience:
What are the risks of someone or something actually being poisoned by the Corncockles in our relatively minute patch; an area of c. 9sqm? I think there is a very low risk of anyone experiencing the grim and gruesome effects of Corncockle consumption described in the document from Illinois.
It was with some pride and pleasure that I declared my new-found knowledge of the allotment flora to one of my fellow gardeners. We stood by the patch, I pointed to the flower and announced, 'this is a Corncockle. It's very poisonous!' My fellow gardener listened and watched patiently as I regurgitated (on) the 'toxicity' of the plant. All sense of doubt and curiosity was lost in the act of trying to affirm myself as, the one who knows, the one who is the authority. I was so desperate to impress and convince the unknowing other I even performed a mock poisoned pig act! Well, actually I didn't go as far as that. Acting like a poisoned pig is something I imagine having done although, of course, it would have been in bad taste. Poisoned livestock is no laughing matter. We agreed it was wise to be aware of any plant on the site that could be poisonous.
My patient friend and fellow then transported us to another more remote association with the menace of the cereal field. We found ourselves on board the Mary Celeste wondering not if ergot contaminated bread/flour had caused a mass and fatal hallucination in the crew but the possibility of 'corn-cockle-poisoning'. We drifted with the deserted vessel awhile and then found our way back to the allotment with it's bountiful and mysterious biochemical array, including the triterine saponins that are, potentially, a menace of one of the defining elements of civilization - cereal. There in the very domesticated field, we contemplated the remoteness of wilderness (' ') and the closeness of wildness (' ') embodied in the corncockle plant.
Later, while cycling home with our safe and entirely edible daily bag of fruit and veg' pickings, we recalled watching the film, 'Into the Wild', in which the central character, Christopher McCandless is imagined in his death throes, uttering and quoting from Dr Zhivago (Boris Pasternak) - 'to call each thing by its right name'.
* - My disclaimer, any plant identification I make on this blog should be regarded as unreliable.
** - from, Nature Cure, Richard Mabey. (2008). (http://richardmabey.co.uk/)
Some other references for your convenience:
Comments
Post a Comment