In a bit of a bind

Although treasured by children for the pop of those white trumpet flowers, bindweeds are no friend to gardeners, says Ian Morton

- Ian Morton

CHILDREN played a traditional little game with those white trumpet flowers. If they squeezed the calyx, the corolla would jump out. Around the country, various chants accompanied the activity. In south London, where the blooms were called poor man’s lilies, it was ‘Nanny goat, nanny goat, pop out of bed’. In Dorset and Bedfordshire, you would hear ‘Granny, granny, pop out of bed’. In Hampshire, it was ‘Lazy Maisie, jump out of bed’. Shropshire folk called them thunder flowers because a storm was believed to follow if they were picked. A Cornish name for the plant was pingle-wingles. In parts of lowland Scotland, it was known as young man’s death, for if a girl picked a bloom, her boyfriend was doomed.

Poor regard is accorded to the hedge bindweed, also known as bellbind, by gardeners. It winds its way up any available structure or plant and will smother sheds, fences, host bushes and shrubs—once established, Calystegia sepium is extremely difficult to eradicate. Its roots are said to penetrate soil to a depth of up to 20ft and it will form new buds even 14ft below ground level. The trumpet blooms are pollinated mainly by the migrant convolvulus hawk-moth, Agrius convolvuli, but produce seeds infrequently; horticulturally, the plant is mostly spread by small, fleshy white root sections detached by excavation. In the US, where it was introduced from Europe in the 1730s as an ornamental and medicinal plant, its mixed reputation is best expressed by its varied names: hedge lily, bugle vine, bride’s gown, wedlock, old man’s nightcap, Devil’s vine and Devil’s guts.