Tuesday 13th June, 2017.

Common Mallow (centre) - Malva sylvestris - B8b - 13th June 2017.

A gardener forages for significance in 'the allotment garden of Nowhere in particular'

Our mallow stands resplendent in a raised bed in one of the bottom plots of ‘the allotment garden of Nowhere in particular’. It is a welcome weed (a contradiction in terms perhaps) that is beginning to smother some of the strawberry plants planted next to it. In the absence of a census I think it’s likely that ‘welcome weeds’ outnumber plants of any other standing in ‘the allotment garden of Nowhere in particular’.

The mallow plant has the scale of a bush yet its base and roots only occupy a small portion of the raised bed however, for the sake of the strawberries, it, or some of it, will have to go, but not before the magnificent floral emanation has set to seed. The mallow in full bloom has been the centre of attention for many honey bees; buzzing and humming with a distinct resonance in accord with the ultra -vivid presence of the plant.

Honeybee’s eyes are endowed with ultra violet receptors and I’m told honey bees see ultraviolet wavelengths, that is, they see in ultraviolet light. The appearance of colour in ultraviolet vision is different to that of our innate form of vision. There is no perceptible colour in the ultra violet world - it is essentially black and white. I wonder at the many and mysterious realms of perception at work in the garden, and how they interact. Taking a moment to observe the frenetic activity of honeybees about just one of the many plants in our garden is a part of my wonder. All the stimuli reveal and suggest bewildering complexity to a gardener, lead astray, lured into the sensational wilds. Would it be fanciful to think that my absorption in the humming sphere of that plant (with its other visitors - visible and otherwise) is part of the natural functioning of the place?

I took pictures of the plant and, to compare myself to a forager, I took pictures from the plant and those pictures allow me to return to the plant in virtual ways. Those ways may obscure and exclude more direct and sensual experiences of the plant. Other experiences include my use of the flowers to dress salads and I have observed honeybees in our hives returning from the mallow - dusted white, covered in mallow pollen - their limbs assiduously combing and picking at the sticky shrouding. If I am fortunate I'll harvest some of the honey from the hives and imbibe some of the essence of those ultra violet encounters.

Further afield, there is a lot of information about the properties of mallow plants - as a nutritious foodstuff and a medicine. The common mallow plant appears to be a very versatile provider of sustenance and healing and its widespread distribution has seen those properties imbued with profound historical and cultural significance. 

I found out, via the ‘permaculture’ website, that mallow has a very important place in Jewish history and culture; including one celebrated by the dish, Khubez soup, for Israeli Independence Day, Yom Ha'atzmaut. I am not sure if the species of plant growing in ‘the allotment garden of Nowhere in particular’, Malva sylvestris, is specifically the one used for Khubez soup. There are numerous species of plant in the Malvaceae family and different species may share similar nutritional and culinary properties. An article in, The Times of Israel, recounts that it was ‘bull mallow', Malva nicaeensis, that besieged Jerusalemites used for Khubez soup. Another article, in, Tablet, expresses some of the sensitivities of this Arabic named dish and that the cultural significance of the main ingredient is anything but neutral. My forage for significance found me wandering into very disputed territory far from a bucolic allotment garden.