IT is generally possible to judge people’s fondness for, or familiarity with, a plant by the number of names it has accumulated over the years. For example, that tiny denizen of the cracks between paving stones, procumbent pearlwort, seen, but unnoticed by people every day, has only four local names, whereas wood sorrel has about 100. It is a delicate beauty in leaf and a glorious one when in white flower. It is also edible. No wonder, then, that people know and love it.
Wood sorrel is one of the trefoil plants that has been accepted as the shamrock, the plant that St Patrick used to teach the Irish peoples the meaning of the Trinity. Incidentally, anyone who knows their Christian theology will understand that St Patrick’s explanation was bound to be heretical—the Trinity is ineffable. In Victorian times, wood sorrel was considered the most likely contender for the shamrock, owing to the understanding that white clover was absent from Ireland at that time. A knock-down argument were it true, but it was not. White clover is now the front runner, although wood sorrel still has its champions, with poetry coming, perhaps, to the rescue.
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning