The maple of Black Friday

Species name: Acer nigrum

Common name: black maple

Location: Western University campus

What better way to celebrate the phenomenon that is Black Friday with a...black maple! You bet I've been holding off on this blog for weeks! For those of you not from the United States or Canada and who are unfamiliar with this "Black Friday thing," here's a brief run-down. Traditionally in Canada the day after Christmas is called Boxing Day. Truly, I have no idea what the history of Boxing Day is, but now it has morphed into the National Day of Shopping. Crazy people (like me) get up at 6 am in order to make it to the mall as soon as it opens, and every store has some kind of crazy sale. Boxing Day is one of my favourite days of the year since I love shopping, but I absolutely refuse to pay full-price for an item. Not to be outdone, the United States has Black Friday. Since Christmas isn't actually that big of a deal in the US (trust me, I'm surprised, too), Thanksgiving is their biggest national holiday (aside from possibly Independence Day in some areas), and it weirdly occurs on a Thursday. In order to "bridge the gap" between Thanksgiving and the weekend, the phenomenon known as Black Friday has evolved. That is the day that Americans get up ridiculously early and go shopping. And let me tell you: Black Friday deals in some stores are ridiculous. While I've never been to the States on a Black Friday (and never intend to go; the day is notorious for people getting trampled to death in order to get to the good deals first), I've heard some great stories of people scoring big-screen TVs for $32, or a brand new iPhone 5C for $49 with no contract. That's crazy! I have no idea whether Boxing Day or Black Friday came first, but I like to think Boxing Day did. Because I'm Canadian, and all good things are Canadian before Americans steal our ideas. Like basketball. And hockey.

Back to plants! The black maple is actually a "species" under furious debate amongst botanists, and the crowd is currently split about its species status. There are some botanists (that I like to think are in the majority, but I'm honestly not sure) that say the black maple is a good species and deserves its own Latin name. There's another group, however, that is absolutely convinced that it's merely a subspecies of the sugar maple, and should actually be called Acer saccharum subsp. nigrum. Unfortunately, should this prove to be the case, the black maple would lose all designation as a species and no longer be protected by any kind of Species At Risk legislation across all of North America, where it has its native range. To me, this would be tragic since I happen to really like black maples. But I do see where "the other side" is coming from: black maples and sugar maples readily hybridize with each other, their wood can be used for the exact same purposes in the lumber trade because they have the same grain qualities and the same chemical makeup (the same amount of lignin and cellulose, with the same type of ring structure), they can both be used to produce maple syrup (although, black maples much less so than sugar maples), and they have very similar maple key characteristics. The most notable difference is the shape of the leaves; the black maple leaf is much more rounded at the bottom than the sugar maple (which is nearly flat), the black maple leaf has only three main lobes with no minor lobes (the sugar maple leaf has three main lobes and two much smaller lobes at the base near the petiole), and the leaves of the black maple "droop" like they're always slightly dehydrated (while sugar maple leaves are flat and not droopy at all). In fact, the slightly floppy quality to the leaves is the reason why most black maples are accidentally massacred on residential properties. Because they always look like they're drought-stressed and need water, people who don't know that's what black maples look like normally drown them to death. The poor trees! And I will admit, until a few months ago I would have been in the "drowning the tree" boat. I always thought this poor tree needed some water (and since it is in the middle of an island in a huge parking lot, not getting much water is a very real possibility) and so likely would have drowned it, too, had I not been told differently. Now we all know. :)

So what are black maples good for, aside from maple syrup? Well, a lot if you ask the Ojibwa people. Not only did they boil the sap of the black maple to concentrate the sugars to use as a sweetener in cooking, but they also boiled the bark and drank the resulting liquid to treat diarrhea and to act as a diuretic. Neither of these uses have been evaluated in clinical trials. The branches of this tree can also be very straight, and so made good wood for arrows and were the preferred source for "arrow wood". The wood of the black maple is also easily carved, especially when young, and so was sometimes carved into elaborate shapes for ornamental pieces and for kitchen items like spoons and bowls.

If you went out to brave the crowds today, hopefully you managed to pick up something you liked and got a great deal!

To Zing or not to Zing, that is the question

Species name: Zingiber officinale

Common name: ginger

Location: teaching lab at Western

Ginger is one of the most commonly used spices around the world, and one that many, many people love the taste of (you can count me as a non-member of that group; I personally HATE ginger). It is a tropical spice (and hence why it's a spice and not an herb), and is now most commonly grown for export in India, China, the Philippines, and Jamaica. There are many other countries that grow a lot of ginger, but those are countries that also use a lot of ginger in their traditional cooking (Nepal, Nigeria, Cameroon, Thailand and Bangladesh) and so only a small amount of the total harvest would be available for export. Despite being one of the most commonly cultivated spices around the world, very little is known about the wild populations of this species of ginger (there are four other species in the genus that are commercially sold as "wild ginger," but be careful; the native Canadian species known as wild ginger, an unrelated species to this group, contains potent carcinogens and should never be consumed) throughout its native range in southern Asia around Thailand and Indonesia. There is the presumption, however, that the population sizes are declining due to habitat loss.

Ginger was once believed to be closely related to grasses but now has its own order, the Zingiberales, within the group known as Commenlinids. These are a unique grouping of species within the monocots that includes all grasses, bananas and their close relatives, spiderworts, water hyacinths, and the palms. Quite a diverse group of plants, and a group that most people probably never would have assumed went together. I don't know about you, but water hyacinths (popular ornamental pond aquatic plants with a large bulbous "bladder" at the bottom of the leaves to keep them afloat) and palm trees don't belong in the same group of plants in my mind! But when we compare DNA sequences, these groups of plants do, in fact, make a genetically related group called a monophyletic group. Pretty neat what DNA sequence analysis can show us! Is there something, other than DNA sequences, that demonstrate that these seemingly drastically different plants belong in the same group? Well now that we know they belong, we do actually notice some biochemical similarities between these plants. The most striking of these similarities is the production and storage of ferulic acid in the cell walls of the plant tissues. This type of acid is only produced in this group of plants, and the best part about ferrulic acid? It glows under UV-light. Granted, it is produced in such low quantities that even if you put a grass plant or a palm tree under UV-light you wouldn't notice it glowing but this acid can be extracted and concentrated and used to make things glow. Pretty neat! Ginger plants do share many characteristics with grasses, so I can definitely see why it was assumed they must be very close relatives. They both have the same morphological features with leaf growth and development as grasses: the leaf sheath wraps around the stem (and the stem is actually just composed of concentric leaf sheaths that grow inside one another), forms something called a ligule at the top of the sheath that helps prevent the plant from plant diseases (it acts almost like a piece of tape that prevents anything from getting down between the sheath and the rest of the stem and can be seen clearly in the third photo from the top), and the leaf blade which is the "leafy floppy part" that comes off the stem. The most interesting part about ginger and grass leaves is that each species has its own ligule; they're almost like identification "fingerprints" that can be used by botanists to determine species. Pretty neat that no two species have identical ligules.

If you're an avid reader of my blog (which you should be if you aren't!), you'll have noticed something right away, before barely scrolling past the pictures. The last name of this plant, "officinale," must mean it has medicinal properties! If you assumed that, you would be correct. Common ginger has been used for thousands of years as a medicinal plant, reportedly being able to treat anything from dyspepsia to constipation and colic. Modern scientific research today shows that the rhizome of the plant contains a group of chemicals called gingerols, and these chemicals stimulate the digestive system and cause an increased amount of motility of the gastrointestinal tract. Ginger extracts would definitely help with mild indigestion or mild cases of constipation, but more severe gastrointestinal diseases or disorders have not yet been evaluated for efficacy. There has also been a lot of use of ginger in treating muscle pain associated with intense physical exercise (consumed in China during times of intense building in the 1200s to 1800s, and trekking for materials for these construction projects) and arthritis, and this has also been shown to be somewhat effective in clinical trials. When ginger extract is consumed after a workout, muscle pain post-workout can be reduced by as much as 25%. The catch: ginger extract must be consumed daily, workout or no workout, in order for this effect to be noted. In Canada and the United States, ginger and ginger extracts have made it onto the coveted "generally regarded as safe" lists. So does this mean that ginger is completely safe? Well, like all herbal remedies, you should always check with your doctor before taking them. Ginger in particular causes an increase in bile production as a way of promoting faster digestion. This isn't a problem for most people, but those most sensitive to an increase in bile production will report having heart burn after eating ginger. In cases where someone is sensitive to bile in that they commonly get gall stones, eating ginger every day or taking pills of ginger extracts would be really silly because it would exacerbate the problem. Those with ulcers or inflammatory bowel disease may react badly to large amounts of ginger because of the increased stimulation of the digestive tract, but these reactions are rarely enough to land the person in the hospital (but are unpleasant enough that it is rarely done a second time!).

Despite ginger being such an important plant to many countries around the world, it has yet to make it onto any kind of "national or state/provincial plant" list. This is really too bad for ginger; people who only appreciate ginger for its flavourful rhizome will never get to fully experience the greatness that is ginger. The flowers are absolutely stunning to look at (so delicate and almost transparent the tissue is so delicate, hence my difficulty photographing them), but also could practically knock you over with their intense sweet scent. The flowers open in the evening to attract their nocturnal pollinators, and then are wilted and shrivelled before the evening of the following day.

The afternoon primrose

Species name: Primula sp. (a garden hybrid of unknown origin)

Common name: primrose

Location: Ontario

Primroses are another great example of why I hate common names. The evening primrose (profiled in a blog post that you can read HERE), is completely unrelated to species in the genus Primula, also called primroses. Sure, they look a little similar (perhaps not the evening primrose compared to this garden hybrid, but some other Primula species), but that's about it. Species of primrose in this genus are native to a wide variety of locations on almost every continent (Australia seems to be excluded from the list) but with the vast majority of the species in the genus native to the Himalayas. Since this garden hybrid (which is actually quite commonly grown) has an unknown parentage, meaning the two or more species that were hybridized to create this cultivar, so I decided to play it safe and call it a non-native species.

I think this species illustrates the concept of a weed perfectly. There is no real definition of a "plant weed," nor are there truly good examples of weed species at least in the common sense of the word. A weed is simply a plant that is growing in a place that we don't want it growing. A plant that is purposefully planted in one garden might be their next-door neighbour's weed. You can probably guess that most weeds are non-native species, only because those are the plants that are most likely to out-compete their neighbours since there are no pathogens to keep their populations in check. This primrose is a great example of a weed in our garden. I have no idea who planted it in the neighbourhood, but one spring it all of a sudden showed up. I ripped it out, but not until after it had gone to seed so now it comes back every year. I wish if it was going to grow it would do it more quickly and make a nice little patch of it that we could put a fence around to keep it contained, but it seems to like being the size that it is (about 10 cm x 10 cm and 4-5 cm tall). I'll refrain from pulling it out this year and see what happens.

I don't think it should come as a surprise to any of my faithful blog readers that I'm a bit of a skeptic when it comes to classification of species. This is probably because of the results I've found in my own work: apparently we're not very good at defining species of fungi at all, and many things that we thought were "species" are only morphological variants. Even more numerous is the trend the other way: many things that we thought were morphological variants are actually species. It's amazing what happens when you start to sequence a group's DNA and analyze the relationships between species! The genus Primula is a great example of this. There are over 500 species in the genus, some of which are so drastically different morphology-wise (and even habitat-wise, which should tell you something about their evolutionary relationships...) that I find it incredibly hard to believe they're in the same genus. With a more thorough investigation of these 500 species and a comprehensive analysis of the group's evolutionary relationships, it wouldn't surprise me if Primula ended up being divided into 25 or more separate genera. Might even be a fun post-doctoral fellowship... :)

Internationally primrose species have been used as medicinal plants for centuries. In fact, they have so many uses that they just might be a miracle plant should all of these uses prove to be effective in clinical trials. The roots of the plants are prepared in either a salve or a tea to treat any kind of cough (pneumonia, bronchitis, common cold, emphysema, etc.), the leaves are used in a tea to treat any kind of head-related ailment (dizziness, headache, stroke, sleeplessness, paralysis, etc.) and the flowers as a vitamin supplement (rumoured to contain high amounts of vitamin A and vitamin C) as well as any kind of digestive-related problems (diuretic, spasmolytic, and sedative). That's a whole bunch of uses for one tiny plant! I find it hard to believe that it could be effective against everything that might ever ail you, but you never know. With a species diversity in the genus argued to be at 500 species, if each one had a single use that's a whole lot of uses! It's also a good example of a general rule in botany and "plant gathering as agriculture": don't ever eat anything or use something as a medicinal plant if you're not absolutely sure about the intended use. If you use the wrong primrose, your headache might turn into a dizziness spell or convulsions!

This cactus doesn't just have roses. It also has leaves!

Species name: Pereskia bleo

Common name: rose cactus, leaf cactus

Location: Dominican Republic

This species of rose cactus (there are 17 species in the genus, all of which carry the common name "rose cactus") is native to the Caribbean basin, from Panama south to Colombia. It has been spread throughout Central America and the Caribbean Islands as an ornamental species, and it is now incredibly popular in gardens and as landscaping plants around hotels. I saw this plant at the farm we went to, and weren't given much information (if any; I was a straggler at the back of the group because of my compulsive picture-taking) about it. It's unfortunate; the people living there probably would know more about the plant than even Wikipedia does!

Surprisingly enough, this plant is a true cactus. You don't have to tell me it looks nothing like what you would picture to be a "cactus" because I most certainly agree with you. Unfortunately, we would both be wrong no matter how adamant we were about this not being a cactus; DNA sequence data tells us it is in the cactus family. Ah, well. Better luck next time to us! :) The genus can be split into two groups called clades, where each clade is a group of species that are most closely related to each other than they are to any other member of the other clade. Each clade has a very interesting characteristic that can be used to define members of that clade: geographic distribution. All members of clade A, where you find the species Pereskia bleo, are native to the land around the Caribbean Sea, from Mexico south to Venezuela (and also some species native to Hispaniola, the island that is made up of Haiti and the Dominican Republic, as well as Cuba, Jamaica, and the Dutch Antilles). Clade B, on the other hand, is made up of species native to South America near the Amazon basin in Brazil, Uruguay, Argentina, Bolivia, Paraguay, and Peru. The one exception to this rule is in clade B where we find the species P. aculeata which is native to a huge area from Mexico all the way south to Argentina. One thing that all of these species have in common is that they don't tolerate full sun very well; they much prefer to be found in shady areas. If exposed to full sun they will more than likely lose all their leaves and turn into a bush of sticks. This definitely won't kill the plant; the stems are green and they would be able to manufacture sugars using the energy of the sun quite easily (photosynthesis). They won't, however, flower or be anything fancy to look at. Best to plant it where it receives at least shading from a building or tree.

In Singapore, where it was introduced a few centuries ago, it is a very important medicinal plant in their traditional medicine, and the plant is called the "Seven Star Needle." The leaves are either chewed (if young) or brewed into a tea (if older) and consumed. It is believed that the regular consumption of these leaves will prevent cancer, but there is absolutely no scientific evidence to support these claims. I doubt the plant is toxic, as the people who make these claims would likely be dead from chronic poisoning if this were true, but don't start eating the leaves in an attempt to ward off cancer. The only evidence that this might one day be used to fight cancer is in mammalian cell lines; extracts from the leaves do kill cancer cells and prevent their proliferation. A word of caution before you get to excited: cell lines in culture behave very differently than what cells do in the body, so the fact that this has been demonstrated to be true has no weight with the medical community. Once (if) there is a long-term full-scale human trial with leaf extract, then the results might be meaningful to the human medical field.

If the spines don't get you, the latex will!

Species name: Euphorbia milii var. splendens

Common name: crown of thorns, Christ plant

Location: Dominican Republic

The crown of thorns is native to Madagascar, as are many species of Euphorbia. There are an estimated 100 species in the genus, but I have my doubts that they all belong. There seems to be a group of about 40 species that are native to Madagascar (some are critically endangered, some or more common but all are at risk due to habitat destruction), another group that are native to mainland Africa, and then yet another group that are native to Europe and South America (to see an example of the morphological variation in the family, read all about the chenille plant HERE). The plants native to Madagascar are very similar to the one pictured above; small-ish brightly-coloured flowers, very thick green leaves that are concentrated at the tips of the stems, long spines, and are relatively low to the ground. The ones native to Africa are trees; some can be up to 35 feet tall but otherwise similar to the Madagascar euphorbs. The plants native to Europe and South America are the weird ones; they're the round, "blobby" euphorbs that look absolutely nothing like their African "relatives". It wouldn't surprise me at all if there ended up being multiple genera within Euphorbia and a lot of renaming of species in the years to come. There are currently four sub-genera, but even those don't quite seem to be natural groups, at least to my untrained eye. I'm going to lay my bets on there actually being six genera within Euphorbia. We'll see if I'm right; I'll re-evaluate this blog if there's ever a genus-wide systematic DNA analysis that's performed.

The crown of thorns is a species that has a rather unique common name, due to its hypothesized role in Christian and Catholic beliefs. The story goes that when Christ was nailed to the cross, he was also forced to wear a crown made of a very thorny plant; whenever there's a painting depicting Christ's crucifixion, his head is always bleeding from the thorns digging into his forehead and scalp. It is believed based on geological evidence and stories passed down through generations (as well as artifacts discovered in Mosques and in underground burial tombs) that this plant was transported to the Middle East very early on; as many as 5,000 years ago. The story goes, then, that this plant is the source of the thorny branches that made up Christ's "thorn crown" during the crucifixion. The story of Br'er Rabbit, Br'er Fox and Br'er Bear courtesy of Disney also revolves around a dense thicket of thorns (I only know this because of the ride Splash Mountain at Walt Disney World in Florida...), and it's highly likely that these are some sort of euphorb (the story is based on folk tales told by African slaves after first being transported to the United States, so its doubtful the plants making up the Brier/Briar Patch would be American species) or other African spiny species.

All euphorbs are highly toxic. Some are more irritating only to the skin, while others produce noxious fumes from their latex (the white milky substance that is released when any part of the plant is damaged, as you can see in the third picture) and can cause severe respiratory problems. If ingested, this species won't kill you but will most definitely make you sick (vomiting, diarrhea and severe dehydration as a result of these two). African species can cause death just from contact with the latex, let alone ingestion. It's amazing the kinds of defence systems that some plants have evolved! Unsurprisingly, it is rare to find any kind of insect or other animal herbivore munching on these plants as a snack.

The flowers of this plant are quite neat, and you can actually gauge the age of the flower bracts by their colour. What we see as "flowers" aren't actually flowers at all. The two "petals" are modified leaves called bracts that contain chromoplasts instead of chloroplasts, which give the bracts their red to pinkish hue. These bracts change colour as they age, and the rate at which they change colour depends on the amount of sun they're exposed to and how long the bracts have been fully-developed. They usually start off a bright pink or red, then gradually fade to completely green before the fruit is mature, then the bracts fall off. Those small yellow patches on the very inside of the flowers are the true flowers; the fruit of these plants is rarely larger than a few millimetres across and is red when mature.

What is the proper name for this plant?!

Species name: Kleinia mandraliscae (or perhaps Senecio mandraliscae, or perhaps neither of these...)

Common name: blue chalk sticks

Location: UWO Greenhouse

This plant was rather interesting to identify; it took me a long time to accept that I had found the correct plant because of the plants it was most closely related to. Blue chalk sticks (a pretty awesome common name, even if the "sticks" are leaves and they can't be used like chalk even if you dehydrate them) are native to South Africa and the surrounding area, in dry, hot locations. They are succulents, meaning they store water in their leaves to use during times of drought. And that's basically all I could find out about this plant!

When it comes to plant identification, it's amazing how little can be found about certain plants. This one, for example, doesn't actually seem to exist. It was previous named in the genus Senecio, and I'm not entirely sure how it got there. Senecio, or the ragwort or groundsel group, is closely related to the common dandelion (which you can read all about HERE). If you picture what this plant and what a dandelion look like, they look absolutely nothing alike, not even if you use your imagination. I've never seen the flowers on this plant, but I can't imagine them looking like dandelions, either. Somewhere down the line this species was moved into the genus Kleinia, which doesn't seem to have a common name. The affinities (the closest relatives) of these species are still up for debate since none of them have had their DNA sequenced. The icing on the cake with the blue chalk sticks is that according to Wikipedia (a remarkably accurate resource when it comes to current taxonomy), this species doesn't exist in any genus. One page says it's a Kleinia, but links to a page with photos that calls it a Senecio, but neither of the pages which list species names of either of these genera have it listed under current species. So where does this species belong? What is its current name? What are its closest relatives? Your guess as to the answer of these questions is as good as mine.

My thoughts: this plant is actually just a blue variety of Senecio barbertonicus. Based on images, these two species look strikingly alike, except for the colour of their leaves. I'll have to keep going back to the greenhouse to see if I can catch this plant flowering to see if the flowers are the same. There are some exceptionally odd species of both genera (Senecio and Kleinia) that are only known from cultivation, which should make you wonder if they're true species at all. This is a perfect demonstration of why we need to sequence more plant species so we have an idea of the diversity on Earth. Right now we really are flying blind!

The Japanese can't make their own taxol from their yew

Species name: Taxus cuspidata

Common name: Japanese yew

Location: Ontario

You might be wondering why I'm featuring the same plant twice in the same week, but you would have made one vital assumption that is incorrect: just because two species look the same doesn't mean they are the same. The Japanese yew, featured here (native to Japan, as you might have guessed), is a very close relative to the Canada yew, featured in my blog post on Monday (read all about it HERE). In fact, by assuming that the photos above represented the same species as that of the Canada yew, you would be making the same error that many botanists have made in the past; it was only recently demonstrated that there are distinct species within the genus Taxus. The genus was originally thought to be monotypic, and instead having distinct geographic races or subspecies that are on their way to becoming their own species, but have not yet become distinct enough to warrant the title. The Sumatran and the Mexican yews are the most different from the type species, the European yew. These were the first to obtain their own species designation, with every other species following suit and being confirmed through DNA sequencing.

So if these species are so morphologically similar, how do you tell them apart? Well, the needles and their arrangement on the branches is the first clue. The needles of the Canada yew are arranged around the branches when young, but the development of the bark on the branches almost flattens out the arrangement of the needles as it matures. If you look at the branches that are brown in colour instead of green (showing that bark has been formed), the needles are in two rows on each side, but are flattened on the branch. It has almost become two-dimensional. The difference in the maturation of the Japanese yew branches is that the needles remain spirally-arranged on the branch; they never flatten out unless something has been grazing the branches. With age, the needles also turn upwards, so all of the oldest needles on the inside of the shrub or small tree are pointing upwards, even though their point of attachment on the branch is all the way around it.

The second hint that these are different species is their sheer size difference. The Canada yew barely reaches a height of 2 meters off the ground and completely lacks a central stem. While the Japanese yew pictured above doesn't really look like it has a central stem, it is clearly more "tree-like", and the branches have the ability to support their own weight as opposed to drooping onto the ground like the Canada yew branches do. The Japanese yew can also grow to a maximum height of 18 meters.

The last major differences are not visible to the eye, but rather "visible" to a machine called a gas chromatography mass spectrophotometer, or GCMS. These machines are also sometimes called the "mass spec," and if you watch CSI at all you will have heard of them! They really do exist, and they are used in much the same way as suggested on TV (but not nearly as quickly, and the results are a bit harder to interpret than what the shows make them out to be!). You dissolve a bit of an unknown substance into a solvent (usually some sort of alcohol, although other organic solutions are sometimes used like chloroform), and inject a very small quantity into the machine. The machine separates the individual components of the liquid mixture by molecular size, and displays a graph of molecular weight versus abundance. The shape of the peak tells you what types of chemical bonds are present, and the location along the size axis tell you how big the molecules are. The height of the peaks tell you how much of any given substance are present. So what does this have to do with the Japanese yew? Well, it's a rather unfortunate tale for the Japanese; if they want to make their own paclitaxel, they're going to have to start planting Canada yew. The Japanese yew doesn't contain the right combination of taxanes to have the desired medical effects. In fact, the Japanese yew is exponentially more toxic than the Canada yew; it has the distinction of being the "Japanese horse killer." Just five needles are enough to kill a small dog. If you choose to plant this ornamental tree in your garden, please keep animals and small children away from it! And don't EVER use it as a Christmas tree!

The fern with the maiden's hair

Species name: Adiantum aleuticum

Common name: western maidenhair fern

Location: Ontario

Unlike many ferns popular to grow in North America, this one is actually native to most of Canada and Alaska. It is incredibly cold-hardy as far as ferns go, surviving much colder temperatures than any of its ferny relatives. There is another species, A. pedatum (the five-fingered fern), that is also native to North America that is equally cold hardy and was once thought to be part of the same species (they were shown to be different species through DNA sequencing in 1991). It has slightly different fronds that are darker green than this species, and is a bit shorter when full-grown. Both species are deciduous, meaning the fronds are shed during the winter, but a few of their relatives are evergreen species, even in colder climates.

Also unlike many of its ferny relatives, this species' conservation status is listed as "secure" in all areas of its native range. I find this somewhat hard to believe since we're destroying its native habitat at a rather unprecedented rate, but they're the experts so they know what they're talking about. Part of the success of the species is thanks to its attractiveness; this is also an incredibly popular fern to grow as a landscaping plant in gardens. There are some very similar Chinese and Australian species, though, so if you choose to grow this in your garden make sure you're choosing one of the two native species. Because ferns are so sensitive not just to habitat change but also to climate change, they are at greater risk of extinction than any other plant species. When the dinosaurs ruled the earth, ferns were the dominant plant species; the majority of the "trees" that flying dinosaurs would have made their nests in would have been ancient species of ferns! There are still a few "tree ferns" that exist today, but nothing nearly as majestic as a 75-100 foot tall fern tree. They're much smaller at only 6-10 feet at their maximum.

Maidenhair ferns have been used as a medicinal tea plant for hundreds of years by Native North Americans. It is said to help relieve mucous membrane irritation, and so was often consumed to help sore throats and colds. Since we now know that even just drinking warm water will soothe a sore throat, drinking a tea with maidenhair fern leaves should be surprising that it would help a sore throat. Whether it has any actual medicinal value other than the placebo effect has yet to be determined.

The rugged rose

Species name: Rosa rugosa

Common name: Japanese rose, wrinkled rose

Location: Ontario

This species of "wild" rose (it is also cultivated and sold in garden stores, so most plants probably aren't truly wild) is incredibly popular across the world for a diverse number of reasons. The native range of this plant is enormous, ranging from western Europe all the way east to Japan and Korea, as far south as Turkey, and as far north as the southern edge of Siberia. It has adapted to a wide range of habitat types, but prefers areas that have moderate levels of disturbance, low nutrient levels in the soil, and full sunlight (for those reasons it does very well on sand dunes and in sandy soil but also roadside ditches). It can often be seen as a garden escape growing in very shrubby areas, where it can dominate (at least for a short time, until buckthorn comes in) the area quickly.

The genes determining flower colour in this plant are very similar to each other. What I mean by that, is that for every single gene in our genome, we have two copies of that gene. One we inherited from our mother, and one we inherited from our father. Each of these copies of genes we call "alleles". If you read the DNA sequence of each of these alleles, they will be different from each other, and that's why they can result in very different physical characteristics of an organism (we call this the organism's "phenotype"). The different copies of a gene arise through gene mutation, and depending on the gene as little as a single mutation can cause a drastically different phenotype, depending on where in the gene or gene product (usually a protein) the mutation occurs. The allele for the white flower colour is incredibly similar to the allele for the purple (or pink, depending on who you ask) flower colour; so much so, that sometimes in the plant as it grows, one branch will generate a new mutation (a regular occurrence that happens in all biological organisms; this is how we evolve over time) that causes the exact same change in flower colour that having a different allele would. You might be looking at a single plant that has mostly pink flowers, then all of a sudden a short branch with 3 or 4 white flowers on it. It's amazing how our DNA works sometimes!

Aside from the colour-changing ability of the flowers, these flowers are highly praised for other reasons. They have incredibly high resistance to disease, including two fungal diseases that cause huge financial devastation in the ornamental rose industry: black spot of rose and rose rust. Many species of rose readily hybridize, so hybridizing the Japanese rose with any other species of rose can sometimes confer the benefits of increased disease resistance. Because it also has high salt resistance, it's a popular hedge plant for beside busy roads that get heavily salted during the winter. The rose petals retain their scent when dried, and so are a popular source of potpourri in Japan and China.

The blueberry-like white aster

Species name: Symphyotrichum ericoides

Common name: white aster, heath aster

Location: Ontario

This species of aster is native to much of North America, from Canada all the way south to Mexico. It has been introduced as an ornamental plant around the world, and is sold as a popular garden plant. One of the common names, the heath aster, comes from the fact that the leaves are notably not aster-like; they are instead very thick and almost bristle-like, which is characteristic of the blueberry family (or Ericaceae). For Latin names, wherever you see the ending "-oides" at the end of a species epithet (the "second name" of a species), that means "looks like." Like most white flowers with yellow middles, with multiple ray florets and disc florets (i.e. anything that looks like a daisy), this plant used to be classified in the genus Aster until DNA analysis showed it was in a different genus.

The story of this plant being sold in nurseries for ornamental usage is a long and complicated one, and shows how important it is to be able to identify plants when you're landscaping a garden. This is by far the most common "small, daisy-like plant" sold in garden stores, carrying the name "white aster" or "heath aster." Unfortunately, very little of what is being sold is actually the correct species of plant. More commonly it's misidentified S. dumosum, S. lateriflorum, S. pilosum or S. racemosum. This isn't a real problem in Canada and the United States since all four of these other species are also native, but in Europe this could be a big problem since only two of these species, S. dumosum and S. pilosum, can become invasive. Always make sure you know what you're buying and try to identify the plant yourself if you can (if the plant is mature enough to identify!). This problem has apparently been occurring continuously since the mid-19th century!

Most Symphyotrichum species are hardy, and resistant to infections. The exception, however, is when the plants are planted in close proximity with other plant species, and planted where the soil can not dry out fully between waterings. The roots of this plant (and the stem at soil level) are very susceptible to fungal infections, but this problem is all but eliminated when the plant is on its own in a sunny area. Something to keep in mind if you're going to be landscaping a garden in the spring.

These be Kings of the coleus

Species name: Solenostemon scutellarioides (formerly Coleus blumei)

Common name: Coleus, King coleus, painted nettle

Location: Ontario

Contrary to popular belief, the genus name of this plant is not Coleus, and hasn't been since 1975. It's a rather long story for why the genus Coleus doesn't exist anymore, but to make it a short story it's because a really important botanist said "because I say so." When it comes to sequencing the DNA of all 6 species thought to once be part of the genus Coleus, it turns out that they actually fall into 3 distinct groups, two of which are new and the other is a well-established genus. All three of these groups are in the mint family. Because the previous genus name existed before the description of the first Coleus plant, the Coleus genus was dissolved. One of these three genera, Solenostemon, contains one of the most common garden plants in the world, the King coleus or the painted nettle. It is prized for its incredible degree of variation in colour in the leaves, with some varieties having as many as thirty different colours in one leaf. Most cultivars play on contrast, with very bright colours (or even white) being in combination with very dark colours (some almost appearing black). Why a plant would do this on its own is a mystery, but probably has to do with mimicry, herbivore detraction, or optimization of photosynthesis. We do know that most of the genes responsible for leaf colour in the coleus plant have mutations in them, which lead to the huge variety of colours you can see. Because these gene mutations were selected for by humans due to their visual appeal, the mutations are propagated in the population. This likely wouldn't have happened in nature, however, since changing a leaf's colour to anything other than green often leads to a decrease in photosynthetic ability, which in turn causes the plant to have an overall decrease in sugar production. This may not be a problem normally, but for a plant under any kind of stress (drought, heat, flooding, pest attack, etc.) this could be deadly.

For those of you who live in warm temperate climates (where the winter temperature rarely dips below 10 degrees), please exert extreme caution if you choose to plant a coleus outside (either in its native habitat or introduced areas). They do have the ability to be incredibly invasive despite being incredibly poor seed producers, so make sure you properly destroy of any cuttings you might take. Even a single leaf has the ability to root into a new plant just by having the petiole submerged in a puddle for a few days, and depending on the location as little as a few hours. Unless you like having coleus plants taking over your compost pile, do not compost the leaves or stem cuttings before shredding them! The native range of the coleus is enormous: tropical Africa, Asia and Australia, the East Indies, the Malay Archipelago (Malaysia, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, Singapore, Brunei, and East Timor) and the Philippines.

A word of caution: this plant is toxic to most people when consumed. It was widely reported in the early 1800s that the Mazatec Indians near Oaxaca, Mexico, used this plant for its psychoactive and hallucinogenic properties and still do today. When consumed (either chewing leaves or brewing them in a tea), it can produce a feeling of euphoria and/or relaxation and some people have reported seeing hallucinations. These effects don't usually last long, but for a child this could not only be downright scary, but also could be dangerous to their health. There aren't any published adverse health effects, but better to be safe than sorry!