Remembering JFK with cornflowers

Species name: Centaurea cyanus

Common name: bachelor's button, cornflower

Location: picture 1 from HERE, picture 2 from HERE, picture 3 from HERE and picture 4 from HERE

Today is a rather special day in history, whether you're American or not, and this special day deserves its own special blog post. In case you aren't aware of the significance of today, it is the 50th anniversary of the assassination of the former President of the United States, John F. Kennedy, in Texas. He was one of the most well-liked Presidents in US history, and will always be remembered as one of the great young minds that died far too young. With that said, let's see how well I can weave this into a blog about plants.

The cornflower, also called the bachelor's button or the common cornflower, is native to Europe where it historically grew like a weed. It prefers highly disturbed areas like prairies (historically, the sustaining life source of a prairie was fire which wipes out much of the herbaceous growth, allowing new species to colonize the area), which is why it can sometimes be seen growing alongside the Flander's poppy, as seen in the fourth image above (I thought that was rather fitting, since both flowers are now considered the flowers of remembrance depending on which continent and/or country you're from). Unfortunately for the cornflower, it also thrives as an agricultural weed since agricultural fields are, by default, highly disturbed areas. They are plowed every year which encourages weedy plants (or plants that can grow very quickly) to move in and colonize the area. Because of the intense amount of herbicides that are applied to agricultural fields, many of the once-ideal habitats for cornflowers are now being lost. This has led to the placement of the cornflower onto many endangered species lists across much of its native range (the population in the UK has gone from 264 sites to just 3 sites in 50 years; also a rather fitting time of measurement). Fortunately for the cornflower, it's not about to go extinct any time soon. It has been introduced as an ornamental species in North America, and parts of Africa and Asia where it is considered a naturalized species (locally invasive in some areas). In Australia it is a pest species. In fact, because of the planting of this species ornamentally it was recently featured near the top of the list of the top 100 species that have the potential to be brought back from the brink of extinction. With proper rehabilitation efforts and the protection of prairie habitats across Europe, this species could once again thrive.

There are also some locations where cornflowers are planted for agricultural purposes aside from seed generation for the ornamental flower trade. Cornflower "petals" (I'll get into this in a minute) are dried and often used as an additive in loose leaf teas to impart flavour and colour into some blends. The flavour is very subtle; so subtle I doubt you would even be able to pick up the taste. More often than not, cornflowers are added to loose teas just to make them look pretty in their package. And who isn't about to buy tea because it looks pretty?! I'll admit, I've been guilty of that on more than one occasion. Sometimes with successful results, but often with "BLAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!" results. That's also how I buy my wine. You'd think I would learn from these experiences...

The petals seen in the cornflower aren't really petals at all. The "flower" of a cornflower is a compound flower, or a flower head. Each one of the "petals" is called a ray floret, and each one of the dark purple wispy bits on the inside of the flower head is called a disc flower. This is the typical flower head (or inflorescence) structure of flowers in the aster or sunflower family.

Aside from being the flower of remembrance in the United Kingdom and much of the rest of Europe, cornflowers hold special meaning to JFK. Not only was blue his favourite colour, but on those days when he wore flowers on his lapel (which was quite often) they were always cornflowers. In fact, on the day his son, John F. Kennedy Jr., was married he had cornflowers pinned to his lapel and cornflowers were featured in the bridal bouquet and in every centrepiece as a symbol of remembrance for his father.

I often wonder what the world would be like today if people like JFK and Martin Luther King Jr. were still alive. Would gay marriage be an issue? Would it be a bigger issue than it is today? What about poverty and homelessness? Drug use? I guess it doesn't do much to hypothesize about how the world would be different, but instead try to make it different. Push the envelope to do better, to be better.

May you Rest In Peace, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. May 29, 1917 - November 22, 1963

President John F. Kennedy

JFK Jr. giving his father a final salute

Sandra's Garden: This hawkweed has spots!

I've been sitting on this blog post for a couple of days because I've been really unsure of the correct ID for this species. I was pretty sure I had it once...but then changed my mind. Then I was pretty sure I had ID'd it correctly again...but then changed my mind again! Now I've got it. I think. If you think I'm wrong, feel free to point it out in the comments section and lead me to a more appropriate name. This is one of the reasons why I hate trying to ID "dandelion-like flowers"--they're just so gosh darn hard to get the right name if you don't have a microscope and a full identification key handy!

Species name: Hieracium maculatum

Common name: spotted hawkweed

Location: Sandra's garden

This species of hawkweed, incredibly common throughout Europe where it is native, is also now becoming more and more common in Canada. Here it's considered a weed since it thrives in highly disturbed areas which include that garden you just dug up to plant new flowers, or the area around where you just cut down the tree and don't know what to replace it with. In Sandra's case it's growing right beside her driveway (made out of gravel, not asphalt), but it's also serving as a great example of what the definition of a "weed" is: a plant that's growing somewhere where we don't want it. Sandra's got a great philosophy towards gardening: "if I like the plant, then it gets to grow." While most of us would have ripped this plant out a long time ago because it looks far too much like a dandelion for our liking, Sandra lets it thrive behind a rock that serves as a buffer between the driveway and the mulched garden. Enjoy your time while it lasts, little plant!

Hawkweeds are some of the most successful plants in disturbed areas because of the way they reproduce: they make asexual seeds. This phenomenon is incredibly unusual overall in the plant kingdom, and when a plant decides to reproduce asexually (which in itself is actually quite common) or clonally it rarely chooses to do so via seed production. Rhizomes, tillers, offsets or offshoots, suckers, foliar embryos, splitting, layering--all of these are common phenomena displayed in various plant species (sometimes even in groups as large as families) that rarely results in a seed-like structure being produced. In fact, plants that reproduce asexually prefer to do this over reproducing sexually but yet retain the ability to do so if growth conditions change. Reproducing asexually is much faster than producing seeds, and seed production is very energetically taxing on the plant (sometimes even killing the plant afterwards!). On top of that, you never quite know what kind of gene combination you're going to end up with since you shuffle all of your genes and they are randomly distributed (along with your mate's genes) into the seeds; each seed still gets one copy of each gene (or two, or four, depending on the plant...) from each parent, but each parent can have two different copies. Which one your offspring gets (you might have two good copies, one good and one bad copy, or two bad copies) is luck of the draw. Why would you risk giving your offspring a bad copy of a gene when you can just pass on all of your genetic material, exactly as it is, to your offspring so they can thrive like you do in the environment you're in? Seems like a no-brainer. But when the environmental conditions change and you are challenged as a plant in your environment, you might decide it would be best for you to roll the dice and take a chance at shuffling your genes so your offspring have a better chance in this new environment. Thus, seed production. But ASEXUAL SEEDS? This just seems crazy.

And for some plants, deciding whether to produce asexually or sexually is way too much work, and since your gene combination works for you it should also work perfectly well for your offspring, aka your clones. Almost the entire genus of Hieracium species reproduce exclusively via asexual seeds that are dispersed in the same way that dandelion seeds are in the wind; this process is called apomixis. This leads to the debate of "what is a species?" which is currently getting quite heated between experts that study this plant in Europe and in the United States. Some say that each clone should be considered a different species, since if you don't reproduce sexually it's impossible to tell who is your closest relative (a perfectly valid argument; one that has been raised in many other plant, animal and fungal species). That would give us about 10,000 species of Hieracium. Others argue that species should be defined based on broad morphological differences, which would give us about 800 species of Hieracium. Just a little difference! No matter which way you choose to define species, I think it's safe to say that there's a lot of them. If you tried counting to 800, it would take you a while; that's my definition of "a lot." There are a lot of species of Hieracium. There. Problem solved!

So what are hawkweed species good for? Absolutely nothing (sorry for just getting that song stuck in your head)! Actually, the plants themselves and the seeds are important food sources for a lot of animals, but one moth in particular: the large yellow underwing moth. This insect species is a great example of an insect that is expanding its range in response to warmer, shorter winters. Prior to the mid-1980s it was found exclusively in Europe and the Middle East, but after its introduction to Nova Scotia by accident in 1985 it has spread all the way to California and Alaska in 20 short years. Prior to that it had never been found further north than the southern edges of Russia! A pretty incredibly feat for a bug.

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!

Game Time: ID this plant!

Species name: Asteraceae (Callistephus chinensis? Bellis perennis? Campuloclinium macrocephalum?)

Common name: A pretty purple pom pom aster

Location: Ontario

To be honest, I have no clue what this plant is. I've managed to narrow it down to the sunflower family or the Asteraceae, but that's all I've got. I found two species that might be close to the ID of this plant, but I'm doubtful that either are the correct species name. I've got my best three guesses below; if you have a better suggestion, please leave it in the comments below! Unfortunately, I have no way of going back to get photos of other features of this plant; it seems it was planted in the late fall as a "Welcome to Campus!" symbol (the school's colours are purple and white) for Autumn Convocation and have since been ripped out.

C. chinensis is otherwise known as the China aster, and is native to (you guessed it) China. It is a popular ornamental plant in North America, but the leaves seem to be quite different than the plant that I photographed. They have more obviously toothed or lobed leaves, and they aren't as hairy and thick as the leaves on the plant I found on campus. Other than the ornamental value of this plant, it has no other uses. It also, to my knowledge, is not invasive in North America (but it might be in other locations).

B. perennis is also known as the English daisy, and the wildtype of this plant (what we call a species that has not been cultivated and is growing freely on its own accord) is very different than the cultivated varieties. The natural version of this plant (native to Europe but naturalized through much of North America) looks very much like your typical daisy, with white ray florets and yellow disc florets. There are sponaneous mutations in the wild that cause either a change in ray floret colour, a change in disc floret colour, what is referred to as "petal doubling" or the conversion of (in the case of this species) disc florets into ray florets, or all three. There are quite a few cultivars that have pink to purple ray florets and disc florets, fringed ray florets, and petal doubling. Again, the leaves don't quite seem to fit the description of the species, so I doubt this is the correct identification of the plant. If it was, this plant would be used in homeopathic medicine as a wound healer due to its astringent properties (usually a tincture is made from the rhizomes; this makes me wonder if it's the plant's action or the action of the alcohol with which it is mixed that makes the treatment effective).

C. macrocephalum, also known as the pompom weed, is the last potential plant that I think is a close fit to the photos that I took and what I remember of the plant. This species is native to South America, but has been introduced to much of the rest of the world. In South Africa, it is one of the most destructive plants that has ever been introduced there; it is an incredibly vigorous competitor and threatens to completely decimate natural grasslands by outcompeting native species. The plant has the ability to turn grasslands completely pinkish-purple during the summer months (remember that summer there is from December to March!), much like our previous problem with purple loosestrife in North America. I haven't ever seen the leaves of this plant (there don't seem to be many photos of the whole plant on the internet; just the very conspicuous flowers), so I don't know if they would be a good fit.

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.

The Achilles flower: common yarrow

Species name: Achillea millefolium

Common name: Yarrow

Location: Ontario

The common yarrow plant (the real yarrow; not the plant masquerading around as a yarrow with the common name "golden yarrow") is native to the Northern Hemisphere, with most subspecies native to North America. Since I have no idea what subspecies this is, I'll just give the plant the benefit of the doubt and say it's native. Even if it wasn't truly native, it would be close enough! Most common yarrow plants have either white or pink flowers, and yellow flowers would be considered incredibly unusual (and traditionally would only be one or two flowers in a sea of either white or pink). Since we as human beings like variety in our flower gardens, we have exploited the natural mutations in the yarrow population for yellow flowers, and created varieties and cultivars with varying shades of yellow flowers. The ones found in nature, however, are always either white or pink; if you see a yellow yarrow you know it's a garden escape. This isn't necessarily a bad thing depending on the variety or cultivar; as long as there wasn't too much "modification" that was done in the breeding process, all of the genes in the native population that were for disease resistance, etc., would still be in the cultivated population. In general, the longer a plant has been in domestication the poorer the competitor it is back in its native range. If you think about the challenges domesticated corn must have in reproducing, or whether or not a Yorkie dog would survive in the wild on its own, you can see how this generally holds up with domesticated species. Due to the shape of the florets within each inflorescence, the shape of each inflorescence appears to be a 5-petaled flower. This actually isn't the case, and this plant is in the sunflower family or the Asteraceae. Each inflorescence contains 4 to 5 ray florets (the ones that look like petals), and many disc florets.

Yarrow has a long history of being used as a medicinal plant; in fact, the Latin name Achillea refers to Achilles who apparently carried it with him into battles to treat the wounds of his soldiers (where one of the common names of this plant comes from; soldier's woundwort). It has been used as a diaphoretic (a chemical or group of chemicals that cause sweating; this was a very popular treatment for various "blood disorders" in ancient times), an astringent (would be very effective against facial acne since it has a relatively concentrated amount of salicylic acid in the leaves and roots), a tonic, and a stimulant. The essential oils from the flowers were extracted using the steam distillation process and used as an anti-inflammatory agent. Depending on the expert herbalist and the disorder, it was also used to either prevent bleeding or promote it. The Navajo also used it to relieve the pain associated with toothache. These are only a few of the reported medical uses of yarrow; for a complete list you can read about it on the Wikipedia page HERE.

A word of caution if you have yarrow in your garden or come in contact with it in the wild: there are some people who experience a violent skin reaction to contact with the leaf juices from broken yarrow leaves, and sometimes with the unbroken leaves themselves. This skin rash is photosensitive so is made worse by the sun, if skin irritation wasn't enough for you. There is also the reported effect that it can cause impotence in male mice, although no evidence has shown this effect is translated in humans. It's probably better to be safe then sorry with this plant; unless you know you don't show sensitivity to the plant, it's probably best to wear gardening gloves when handling it.

The Biggest, Baddest Bull Thistle

Species name: Cirsium vulgare

Common name: Bull thistle

Location: Ontario

This plant, often deemed a "weed," is native to Europe and parts of northwestern Asia but has been naturalized throughout most of North America. It prefers to grow in recently disturbed areas (where many non-native asters thrive), and so often pops up in gardens or lawns if they have recently been re-landscaped. That's the virtue of the beast! Because of its preference for disturbed areas, it can become invasive in prairie-like habitats which are, by definition, constantly being disturbed (hopefully; a healthy prairie has wildfires that blaze through once every 7 to 10 years).

Bull thistles are clearly not for the faint at heart for weeding, especially when they get to be this size. They can cause some serious damage to anyone (or any animal) that accidentally brushes up against it, is pushed against it, or falls on it. I wouldn't go as far as saying there's a serious threat of being impaled by a bull thistle, but it's certainly not a plant I would want a close encounter with!

Like many members of its family, the Asteraceae, the bull thistle is actually 100% edible when  young (as in, before flowering) with the taproot being the tastiest. It can be boiled then eaten exactly like a carrot or boiled further and mashed like potatoes. There aren't many people that would mess with this plant long enough to figure out you could eat it, so hats off to whoever discovered this fact! That's one brave soul.

I figured this would be a good time to point out that quite a few of my pictures, seemingly mostly the pictures of the aster (or sunflower) family, have bees in them with giant yellow sacs on their back legs. Those aren't actually sacs, those are giant balls of pollen. Most people think that bees are excellent pollinators, and that lots of bees in your garden means that you have lots of cross-pollination that's occurring. In reality, bees are absolutely terrible pollinators, and the globs on their back legs shows you precisely why. Bees hate having pollen attached to any part of their body, which is completely understandable; would you like sand crusted all over your skin? Probably not too comfortable. So bees have actually perfected the art of grooming while in flight. They use their antennae and front legs to meticulously groom all of the pollen off of their legs, back, head and torso. This doesn't mean pollen is useless to a bee; it's actually incredibly useful. They pack it onto their legs to carry back to their hive, and store it as food. On a lucrative pollen day, a bee will only return to the hive when the back legs get so encrusted with pollen that it's difficult to fly.

So now you know!

As a non-blog side note: sincerest congratulations goes out to my lab-mate Jessie who just successfully defended her Master's degree! Proud of you!