In Memoriam: Dr. John Lott 1943-2014

This morning I received (OK, actually last night, but I didn't open it until this morning) an e-mail from my Alma Mater, McMaster University, about their new Department of Biology Alum newsletter. "What a great idea!" I thought. A way to catch up on what's been happening in the department since I graduated, which wasn't actually all that long ago, and to keep up to date for years to come. "I wonder if they ever did the Life Sciences Building reno and expansion? This newsletter should talk about it! Yay!" I thought. Instead, on page 2, I got quite a shock: my favourite professor from my undergraduate degree and arguably the single entity in my life that has directed me down the path I'm now taking, passed away earlier this year. Let's back up a bit...

Back when I started my undergrad degree at Mac, there was one really, REALLY annoying prerequisite for all students registered in a Biology program (didn't matter what program you were in, everyone took the same four courses in second year mixed with any other courses you wanted as electives to fill the gaps): Plant Biodiversity. UGH. I seriously HAVE to learn about plants?! You're kidding. Well, I guess all I have to do is pass. Preferably do more than pass, but that's a bare minimum. KILL ME if I have to do this a second time. Stupid plants. As you can see...I was pretty naive about the plant kingdom before this class started. Off I go to class on the first day, dreading that it's going to be just the. worst. thing. ever. In walks this medium-height older man, very pleasant-looking, kinda reminds me of that stereotypical grandfather image. Wearing a sweater-vest over a dress shirt, tie under his vest, glasses, balding on the top, hair that he has left is grey, carrying a leather briefcase built in 1964 (interestingly, the same year his car was built...but I'll save that for later). Dr. Lott introduced himself, and then promptly walked out the back door onto the loading dock. Huh? Well...that was a quick class. None of us were quite sure what to do (the overhead projector was still on, of course, so it didn't look like we should leave...), so we just sat there looking at each other. He walks back into the room carrying the stalk of this GINORMOUS plant that he grew in his garden over the summer, wearing gloves, and waiving it around. He told us a bit about the plant, a little snapshot of what we would learn about in the course, without ever mentioning the name and then went back outside and put it down (where his wife was guarding it, as we later learned). Then he comes back into the room, still wearing gloves, and takes some petri dishes out of his briefcase. Takes the lid off of each of them, and offers them to the students in the front row (note to self: sit in the front row next class). He asks the guy sitting on the end in the 2nd row to go up to the board and tally the votes for left hand vs. right hand so the class can keep track of the voting (of course, guy in the second row IMMEDIATELY jumps out of his chair. There is no crossing Dr. Lott...he might give you the general reminder of your grandpa, but there's also this unmistakable "do not mess with this man" feeling as well). Dr. Lott then told the class that one petri dish of seeds (apparently they were seeds! See? Sit in the front row!) came from the gigantic plant he just showed us, while the other came from the grocery store. The question: which one would you eat? He went from student to student in the front row, who looked in each dish and chose either the one on the left or the one on the right. The vote: 18-2 for the seeds on the left. The verdict: 18 people would be dead. And that, friends, is why taxonomy and plant identification is important.

You'd better believe I was hooked from that day forward.

The second (and only other course he taught) course I took with Dr. Lott was when I was in fourth year and it was about plant cell ultrastructure, and we learned a whole lot about plant cell organelles, how they work, and what happens when things go wrong. The other cool thing we got to do (well, novelty factor at the time) was use different types of microscopes to document different levels of plant organization. I got to use a Transmission Electron Microscope (TEM) to photograph a dividing onion root tip cell, and a radish cell to photograph the Golgi apparatus. Then a Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) to photograph a "textured plant organ" that we brought in from home. I chose the leaf of one of my begonia plants in my window in residence because it had a lot of surface hairs and an acorn cap I found on the ground on campus. After that we learned all about the organization of tissues in the plant, and we got to take a panel of pictures that would be representative of the plant section that we were given using a regular light microscope. My partner Christine and I were given a plant stem, so I had to photograph 6 different views at different magnifications to give a representative panel of what we were looking at and any unique features. Things like how the vascular system is arranged in the stem, an individual vascular bundle, unique or unusual cells we found while scanning around, etc. I still have all of these pictures framed and hanging on my wall at home, 8 years later. This course was a novelty to me because who still uses microscopes these days?! I mean...come on. The TEM and SEM were fun because they were multi-million dollar machines, but seriously?! A light microscope? Come on. No one uses those still to see anything except undergrads in first year biology labs. Pfft. Spoiler alert: 75% of the data obtained for my PhD has come from...a light microscope. If it wasn't for that course, I would have been totally, completely, hopelessly lost the first time my supervisor asked me to prepare a slide.

One more story: Dr. Lott's car. One day during that plant cell ultrastructure course, Dr. Lott comes in looking somewhat visibly distraught. Someone in the class asked him what was wrong, and he said that the day had finally come to replace his car and he was not looking forward to it. We got him to talk a bit about his car; turns out it was a 1960-something (pretty sure it was a '64, but my memory might be playing tricks on me) Cadillac. Yep, that's one old car. A lovely car, but an old car. He decided that because Cadillac was so good to him for 40 years, he should buy another. So he went to his local Cadillac dealer to take a look at what they have. He decides on a car to test-drive, the guy at the dealership gets the demo car ready for him, and he drives it around the block a couple of times. Likes it. Buys it. Then gets told about all of the fancy features that come with the car...and that's where he starts to panic a bit. Something to keep in mind about Dr. Lott: he was so very old-school. When he taught, he used: a) posters, b) the chalk board, and c) overhead slides. When he had to submit his grades to the department, he typed them up on his electronic typewriter and gave them to the departmental secretary (who didn't have the heart to tell him that's not the kind of "typed grades" they meant). If he had to give a presentation at a conference, he had one of his students put together a powerpoint for him and teach him how to use the buttons. Why is this relevant? The guy at the dealership told him there were computers in his new car that would ensure it was running smoothly, and would send e-mails to his home if something needed checking by the service department (he was, I think, describing the OnStar system to him). A man who had essentially never touched a computer in his life now had MULTIPLE computers in his car. He was most concerned about how long he had to wait for Windows to boot. In class we (I use "we" loosely...I have no idea how computers in a car work, but other people in the room definitely did) explained to him that it wasn't a personal computer and that there was no waiting for Windows to boot before he could drive. I think he was relieved. A few weeks later we asked him how he liked his new car and he went on for almost half the class about how much he loved it. He was happy, and I guess that's all that mattered in the end!

So this blog is about plants...right.

That very first plant that I learned about in Biology 2D03 "Plant Biodiversity" at McMaster University? The castor bean plant. I learned that not everything should be touched before you know what it is ("look with your eyes, not your hands!"), that plants can kill you if you're not careful, that many of our medicines come from plants, and that plant identification is an important skill. What I didn't realize until much later was that this plant was near and dear to Dr. Lott's heart because that was where he spent a major portion of his career: examining the different elements and compounds present in castor bean seeds. He grew some of his "experimental populations" for seeds in his back yard, looking at how different varieties reacted under different growing conditions. Castor bean plants have, since then, always held a special place in my heart and brain. So I present, in memory of Dr. Lott: a blog about the castor bean plant.

Species name: Ricinus communis

Common name: Castor bean plant, castor oil plant

Location: pictures 1-3 from Xenomorph on Dave's Garden (available HERE), picture 4 from ineedacupoftea on Dave's Garden (available HERE), and picture 5 from zest on Dave's Garden (available HERE)

The castor bean plant isn't a bean at all. It's in the Euphorb or the spurge family, which explains the white, milky latex that exudes from wounds in the plant stem and leaves (nearly all members of this family do this; in fact, I can't think of a single plant in this family that doesn't but I'm sure they exist). In many species this latex is toxic, and this plant is no exception. The castor bean plant is native to the Mediterranean basin in Europe and northern Africa, but is now widespread around the world as an ornamental species. In North America it does quite well, but our cold winters here in Ontario kill the plant during the winter. A bit further south, where the winter isn't as severe, this plant could set seed and the seeds would produce a new generation the next year. As you can imagine, this does pose a problem if it does get away, and may become invasive in some areas in the southern United States.

The castor bean plant is a "superplant" when it comes to the growth it is capable of within a single growing year. The plant in the fourth photograph above is of a full-grown adult male (the picture caption by the photographer says he's 5'10"), and a castor bean plant that was planted from seed in May of that year (the picture was taken on November 1st). A single growing season, and the plant is nearly three times his height. This isn't unusual, nor is it even remarkable as far as this species goes...that's a "day in the life of a castor bean plant". What is remarkable is that it can grow even taller than that under optimal conditions; as much as 39 feet in a single growing season. As yourself how many other plants you've ever seen grow THIRTY NINE FEET in only 7 months. That's insane. Insane! The lower leaves on this plant would be absolutely enormous, and if they didn't contain skin-irritating latex they would make excellent impromptu umbrellas if you ever get caught in the rain.

No matter what anyone tells you, this plant is incredibly dangerous and should absolutely be respected should you ever come across it. In fact, in 2007 the Guinness Book of World Records named this plant the "Most Toxic Plant in the World". The latex produced from the plant itself is pretty benign, but if you have sensitive skin you will definitely want to cover up before coming into contact with the plant. Burning it is also not a good idea; the smoke can irritate the eyes and lungs, and in those with sensitivities can cause severe allergic reactions. There are neurotoxic compounds in the latex, but you would have to be exposed in great quantity in order for this to be a real health risk (farm workers harvesting this plant for oil in India and Brazil, the world's two largest growers of the castor bean plant, are at great risk). That in itself would be a good reason to keep kids away from it, but if that's not enough then here's one more reason: four measly seeds (each one about 1 cm across) is enough to kill an adult human. The seed coats are incredibly toxic, as is the layer of "bean" (the cotyledons of the plant, or the seed and storage leaves) directly under the seed coat. Peeling this off is not enough to completely get rid of these toxic chemicals; they are also present in the seed itself in lower concentrations. The toxin in this plant is probably the reason why the Latin name sounds so familiar to you, even if you've never come in contact with this plant before: this is where we get ricin. If seeds are consumed, the progression to death caused by ricin doesn't sound very pleasant: vomiting, bloody diarrhea, seizures, severe dehydration, confusion, delirium, extreme sweating, burning of the mouth and throat, severe abdominal pain, and a racing heartbeat. The symptoms don't start until about 36 hours after ingestion (except in very high concentrations of pure ricin extract, where the onset is 2-4 hours after ingestion), and can last up to ONE WEEK before death. A whole week! Don't mess with this plant. Seriously.

All that being said, there is still some serious promise for this plant's use in medicine. Alcohol extracts from the leaves and seeds (a method of extraction that does not select for ricin) has shown promise in treating bacterial and fungal infections, protecting the liver against various toxins, as an antihistamine, an anti-asthmatic, and has anti-inflammatory properties. Not too shabby if you ask me! It also has shown some promise as an analgesic, but it's difficult to determine if the pain relief comes from the paralysis of the central nervous system that arises from poisoning from this plant, or if it's a stand-alone effect. Much, much more research is needed before we ever take capsules of castor bean extract!

Castor oil is an important plant extract used in a huge variety of ways. It is a great lubricating oil, and has been used in combustion engines since the First World War. It is currently used in cosmetics, as a biodiesel fuel, and in its processed form in the chocolate industry as a substitute for cocoa butter (a use for this plant that will likely drastically increase over time with the ever-increasing cost of cocoa). There are also many medicinal uses of castor oil, which no longer contains the ricin once present in the seeds (when the oil is heated to its boiling point, the ricin protein is denatured and is no longer toxic). It can be used as a laxative, showing that it is indeed still toxic to some extent or else your body wouldn't be trying so hard to get rid of it! There are some claims that rubbing castor oil on your skin can cure cancer, but this is a load of rubbish. It has never been shown to have any effect on tumor size in any kind of animal (or even cell line) study. Don't fall for this stuff!

Moral of the story: castor bean plants might look pretty (their seed pods are pretty spectacular!), but they can be very, very dangerous plants. Be careful with them if you grow them!

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Earlier this year, McMaster published a tribute to Dr. Lott on their Department of Biology website. You can read all about Dr. Lott and his accomplishments HERE if you'd like. My favourite part is at the very end, where they talk about his philosophy towards students:

"Students had a special place in John’s attitude to the responsibility of teaching – and mentoring – and drawing out the best a student had to offer – which he achieved by his patient and warm encouragement and by the implicit understanding John showed, that students were not different – only younger and a little less experienced."

Thanks for the memories, Dr. Lott. You have helped create who I am today and showed me that those "boring green things" not only had value in my life, but were actually incredibly cool. Your philosophy towards teaching is something I have adopted in my own teaching style, and now every time I look up at my TEM photographs of my root cell in mitosis, I'll have even more fond memories of my time in your classes.

What is a Herbarium and what is it for: Jamestown's famous weed

Today for my blog post I figured I would do a traditional blog post (for this blog, anyway) along with a "Part 2" that talks a bit about what a Herbarium is and what use it has to science. I've been talking a bit in recent blogs about my personal herbarium that I'm making with my Garden List species, and I've also done a few for the Herbarium at Western of species I've found on campus that only recently appeared. I'm a creature of habit and tend to walk the same path to go to the same place; because I happen to pay attention to the "green stuff" covering the ground, I usually notice when something weird pops up that wasn't there before. I'll talk a bit about one of my favourite weedy plants, which also happens to be my very first plant collection in the herbarium! Sandra, who I featured in a sneaky picture in a previous blog post HERE, is the Herbarium Assistant and Acting Herbarium Curator until the position is filled and she found it hysterical how excited I was about collecting and pressing my very first Herbarium specimen. Since then...I'm hooked. Anyone want a plant collection pressed and dried? I'm your girl. Even better (because it's more fun), want a pressed and dried collection glued and mounted on herbarium paper? Let me know.

Here we go! My favourite weed. :)

Species name: Datura stramonium

Common name: Jimson weed, Jamestown weed, devil's cucumber, datura

Location: UWO Campus

Jimsonweed (or Jimson weed...same plant, along with about 20 other common names this plant has) is my favourite weedy species that we have here in North America. Not just because of it's many common names (HOW AWESOME is the name "devil's cucumber"?!), but because of the rich history it has in the making of the identity of North America today. Without this plant, I doubt anyone living in the United States or Canada would have the same kind of "national identity" that we have today. This plant is widely believed to have originated in North America, but was spread across the globe very early for its recreational uses and so that's difficult to confirm. Since I really like this plant, I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and say it's native to North America...because I can :) It can be weedy and spread quite quickly, so if you do decide to plant it you'll want to make sure you dead-head the flowers before the seed pods form (or, if you like the appearance of the seed pods make sure you pick them off the plant before they crack open and disperse their seeds).

Jimsonweed is in the nightshade family (Solanaceae), which is the same plant family that we find the edible food crops potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants, as well as some ornamental species like henbane, mandrake, belladonna, and deadly nightshade (which, contrary to its common name is actually one of the plants that's least likely to kill you in this family, unless you're a small child or a beloved family pet). Like many of the species listed above, this plant is deadly poisonous. And when I say deadly, I mean deadly. Consuming the seeds from one seed pod would be enough to cause catastrophic organ failure in an adult human which would very quickly lead to death. Should you decide to only consume a few seeds, maybe 25 or so, it would also lead to catastrophic organ failure. This circumstance, however, results in a very slow, very painful death as your body slowly shuts down. Consuming only a small number of the seeds of this plant *may* result in a hallucinogenic trip, but it has equal likelihood in resulting in nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, dehydration, and you wishing that the world would end right then and there (but you'll live). A few years ago there was a string of deaths of high school students in the United States, and it turns out that they all died from consuming Jimsonweed seeds. One of their friends had read on the internet that they're a free way of getting high, so they all ate them. Kids, don't believe everything you read on the internet! This plant is not worth it...trust me. Jimsonweed is fun to look at (how awesome are those seed pods?!), the flowers have an absolutely wonderful aroma, and they provide some nice fall colour to a garden. But don't, under any circumstances, eat it. Ever!

So why did I say above that this plant is probably the single most important plant species for the development of the identity of North America as it is today? Well...it comes from this plant's other major common name, the Jamestown weed. This name comes from Jamestown, Virginia, which was the site of Bacon's Rebellion. Long before Europeans sailed across the ocean blue to settle in what is now the United States, there were people already living there. In fact, there were a lot of people. About 14,000 people lived in and around Jamestown in the early 1600s when the first wave of settlers arrived. The local people were used to the types of harsh conditions to be expected in the winter months, but the Europeans were not so lucky. Many of them died, and it is widely speculated that the few that remained turned to cannibalism in order to survive. During the second wave of settlement, the "new Americans" were smarter: use the locals to build us shelters and show us how to gather food, and kill them if they refuse. There were many clashes between groups, resulting in hundreds of deaths. Nathanial Bacon decided he had had enough of the British fighting with the local people, and started an uprising. Governor William Berkeley had started teaming up with the local people to start building a nation. This angered some of the early settlers, since these same people were responsible for the deaths of many of their friends and family (it swings both ways, but I guess that wasn't the point). Bacon gathered people (estimates are between 300 and 500 people) to fight against Berkeley, eventually driving him out of Virginia and back to Britain. One of the major turning points in the rebellion was when British soldiers started flipping sides and fighting against their countrymen and their own Governor...all because they had been drugged. Bacon observed the local people preparing tea made out of a benign green plant (likely some kind of mint or other species which has a strong flavour, since Jimsonweed is reported to not taste very good) and sprinkled with 2 or 3 of the seeds of the Devil Plant. He prepared this same tea to offer to the freezing British soldiers, who promptly hallucinated for two weeks and became violently ill. While hallucinating, the soldiers were manipulated into amusing Bacon and his supporters, and once the drug's effects wore off they returned to normal, confused as to where the time had gone. When they were ostracized by their fellow soldiers for the actions performed while "under the influence," they decided to flip sides and help drive Governor Berkeley out of their new settlement. Berkeley retreated across the river, but with Bacon's death in 1676 a new leader of the Rebellion took over: John Ingram. Unfortunately, Ingram wasn't a very smart man. He decided to start a fight against the Pamunkey people, which were loyal supporters of Berkeley and even supplied him with warrior fighters. Between the British and the Pamunkey, the Rebellion was defeated and the rebels were driven out of the new settlement. The "good guys" had won. It has been speculated that if the British soldiers drugged with Jimsonweed hadn't flipped sides, Ingram never would have had enough supporters to wager a war against the Pamunkey people. Without this pivotal attack, Berkeley might have decided the war wasn't worth it and retreated back to Britain. What would this side of the world look like if this had of happened? It's impossible to speculate, but I bet it would be very different than what it is today. All thanks to a plant.

Jamestown, Virginia actually has an incredibly fascinating history in the early settlement of North America, and the independence of the United States. If you'd like to read more about the waves of settlement, the clashes that occurred, and the REAL story of Pocahontas (yes, that happened in Jamestown, too!) you can read more on the Wikipedia page HERE.

This plant isn't all bad. The active ingredients leading to hallucinations (and ultimately death) are alkaloids called atropine and scopolamine. Some of you might recognize these two compounds, as atropine is one of the most successful drug compounds used in treating severe asthma. In large amounts, atropine causes the paralysis of the lung tissue and the dilation of the bronchioles which increases air flow. In smaller amounts the paralysis occurs to a much smaller extent allowing the patient to still be able to breathe, but dilates the bronchioles to increase air flow. Scopolamine is also a very important drug in modern medicine; it's used to treat symptoms of Parkinson's disease and is one of the most effective anti-tremor medications (in small concentrations, of course!). Datura itself (the combination of these two alkaloids) is used to treat morphine addiction. Because of the effects on the body that it has, there are certain conditions that it will aggravate like glaucoma or difficulty urinating. Glaucoma is caused by an increase in pressure of the fluid of the eye, which can be aggravated by atropine (which causes the dilation of blood vessels, which would increase blood flow to the eye and increase the pressure even more). One of the main effects of both atropine and scopolamine is the inhibition of the parasympathetic system, which is responsible for the regulation of urination. If you're already having trouble urinating, inhibiting this further could be disastrous. But, again, this plant WILL KILL YOU if you try to make some kind of medicinal concoction on your own. Prescribed drugs have these compounds in very small, controlled amounts. The plant does what it pleases. Don't be stupid.

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Now that you know why this plant is just so awesome, I figured I would talk a bit about this "Herbarium thing": what it is, what it's used for, why they're important, and what is stored in them.

A herbarium is like a library, but for dried plant material. When you walk into a herbarium (which is climate-controlled to prevent insect infestation, so usually kept around 15 C) the first thing that you'll notice are rows upon rows of cabinets. The cabinets contain stacks of sheets of card stock, on which is glued (or sewn, if you've got a really old collection) a plant collection. This collection is identified by species name, a location of where the collection was made (which now includes coordinates), any important information to go along with the collection, who made the collection, and a collection number (often called an accession number). Herbarium specimens are very similar to books: they have titles, authors, years of publication, and a brief description (like liner notes) of what can be found on the page. These specimens are then preserved for all of eternity, and databased so they can be accessed by researchers from other institutions. Some herbaria have thousands of collections (the Western Herbarium has about 60,000 collections), while others like the New York Botanical Gardens or the Paris Natural History Museum have millions of collections (about 10 million at NYBG, 8-9 million in Paris). Herbarium collections are invaluable to science since they show a snapshot of the plants living in an area in any given period of time. The herbarium collections at Western are "young" compared to other institutions since our oldest specimen is from the late 1800s. For my research, the oldest herbarium specimen I received on loan was from 1799, and many were from the 1820s and 1830s. There are some collections in Kew and in Paris from the 1500s! Herbarium specimens have been used in a wide variety of different types of biological studies, from studies about taxonomy (where you study old and new collections of species to look for new species "lost" in herbarium collections or to help you determine whether what you collected is a new species or not) to conservation biology. Herbarium specimens are actually becoming more and more crucial in conservation and restoration biology as habitats are becoming more and more degraded. What plant species used to be present in a given area, compared to what is there today? Can species that used to be present even be located in the same area now? Has the composition of which species are present completely changed? What does this mean? There have even been cases of determining that a plant species is now extinct in the wild based on herbarium collections. The species was collected from an area, described, and hasn't been seen since.

So how do we make a herbarium collection? I figured it was only fitting that my very first plant collection ever to be stored in a herbarium should be my favourite plant: Jimsonweed. When I found the plant growing on campus I carefully pulled it out of the ground to get the root ball intact, knocked off all of the extra dirt, and brought it in to Sandra in the herbarium for pressing. Here's what the plant looks like, in front of a standard piece of herbarium paper (11.5" x 16.5") for scale: 

Now, it should be obvious even to someone who's never made a herbarium collection before that this isn't going to work. Half the plant is missing; it's about 2 times bigger than the size of the paper. So what to do? Well...cut it. All of this preparation of a specimen needs to be done before it's dried, or else the dried plant will just shatter when you try to manipulate it later. I cut the bottom off right at the edge of the paper, and the bottom half became "sheet 2 of 2" for this collection. Next, the collection needs to go between pieces of newspaper and pressed out flat in a herbarium press, which then goes in the dryer to dry the specimen as much as possible (which can take up to a month, depending on how juicy the plant material is!). When a collection is pressed, maintaining the integrity of the plant is very important, because if someone wants to see your collection in 60 years they have to be able to determine what it even is. Showing the upper side and the lower side of leaves is important, but never the same leaf. Folding leaves when drying makes them very fragile and should be avoided when possible. The flowers of the plant, if present, should be kept as visible as possible and all other plant material should be pulled away. The seed pods, if present, should remain on the plant and should also be easily visible. Once all of the manipulation is done, put the newspaper-plant-sandwich into the press, the press into the drying oven, and forget about it for at least a week.

Once the press comes out of the oven, the sheets of newspaper can carefully be removed and opened. Sometimes tweezers can help to carefully pick the newspaper off of the plant material, since sometimes plants "juice" when they're squeezed into a tight location like the herbarium press. As long as the collection is dry, it's ready to be mounted on herbarium paper.

Grab yourself some 11.5" x 16.5" rag-bond acid-free paper and some acid-free glue. Contrary to what you might think, the less glue the better (learned that one the hard way once...). Decide which side is "up" and which side is "down" of your collection, and dab some glue in important places on the side that will be down. Important places would be at major intersections on the stem where pieces could break in two, along leaf petioles, or where the flower attaches to the stem. One thing you DON'T want to do is glue the entire flower to the paper, or the entire leaf. When someone else looks at your specimens they like to be able to see the underside of all of these things, so leave some space where they could carefully be pulled up off the paper to inspect the underside. When all of that is done, the specimen needs to be weighted down onto the paper. Herbarium presses might be able to squish things pretty well, but some plants are great resistors to the squishing. No matter what you do, you just can't get them quite flat enough. Common washers and nuts can be used to weigh the plant material into the glue dabs until the glue dries enough that the plant can't escape it. Once it's all glued and weighted down, it looks like this:

Let the glue dry, and while you're waiting you can make yourself a label! The label needs to be laser-printed using acid-free ink on acid-free paper that is BRIGHT white (even brighter than normal printer paper) and needs to be formatted according to the herbarium that you're depositing your specimen into. This is what our herbarium labels look like, and all of the information that we put onto them:

(my collection is #53,018 in the herbarium! Woo!)

Now it's time to glue the label onto the herbarium paper. They always go in the bottom right corner, so hopefully you saved space for it there (again, learned this the hard way once, too...). Glue it on with acid-free, extra-tacky label glue (which, of course, is different than specimen glue...). Make sure the glue doesn't leak out the edges! If it does, wipe it off right away. We want these looking pretty:

And now you can do any finishing touches! You can see that there are four of the big nuts weighing something down above the label on the sheet on the left. When the seed pods of Jimsonweed are dried, they split open to release the seeds. We want to keep these! Any plant material that falls off of a pressed herbarium specimen is still important material. These go into a little paper envelope, which is glued directly above the label of the specimen (or on page 1 of 2, if there is more than 1 sheet that goes with a single collection).

Now you're done! I was so proud of this silly specimen. It's just a dried plant glued onto paper, but it was my first dried plant glued onto paper! And hopefully it will be useful to someone some day. Now I've got nearly 90 others courtesy of my Garden List and trust me...botanical craft time never gets old :)

The chestnut that horses don't want

Species name: Aesculus hippocastanum

Common name: horse chestnut

Location: Western University campus

The horse chestnut is a tree native to southern Europe around the Mediterranean and the Balkan Mountains. While the native range of this species is actually quite small, it is one of the dominant species that exists there and is also widely planted around the world. It can be a pretty nasty species (more on that below), but has a stunning flower display in late April and early May. The fruits, looking very similar to the fruits of the Ohio buckeye (which you can read all about HERE), start to appear in late summer. They are mostly left alone, but can be eaten (and seem to be enjoyed) by deer.

The common name of this plant is incredibly misleading, but is based in history. First the "horse" part refers to an anecdotal story that after horses ate the fruit, they would no longer complain of chest pain. You'd have to be some sort of pretty awesome horse-whisperer to be able to have a horse tell you it no longer had chest pain! The other minor detail to this story...you wouldn't be able to hear the horse telling you "Thanks! My chest pain is gone!" over the sounds of its seizures. Horse chestnut seeds and the fruit walls are poisonous to horses and should never be fed to them under any circumstances. Horses are pretty smart animals; they won't touch them. The other half of the name comes from the fact that it was believed that this tree was closely related to the American chestnut tree, mostly due to the fact that they have similar fruit and seed appearances. The leaves, however, are wildly different and the flowers of the true chestnut trees are also not nearly as showy. They are not easily confused, nor are they closely related! The true chestnuts and the horse chestnut are only distantly related.

The uses of the horse chestnut are so varied it makes me wonder if this really is a "miracle tree". The first use I'm just going to do the ultimate "thou shalt not do" and just copy-paste from the horse chestnut Wikipedia article because it's so mind-boggling. Here it is:
"In the past, horse-chestnut seeds were used in France and Switzerland for whitening hemp, flax, silk and wool. They contain a soapy juice, fit for washing of linens and stuffs, for milling of caps and stockings, etc., and for fulling of cloth. For this, 20 horse-chestnut seeds were sufficient for six litres of water. They were peeled then rasped, or dried and ground in a malt or other mill. The water must be soft, either rain or river water; hard well water will not work. The nuts are then steeped in cold water, which soon becomes frothy, as with soap, and then turns milky white. The liquid must be stirred well at first, and then, after standing to settle, strained or poured off clear. Linen washed in this liquid, and afterwards rinsed in clear running water, takes on an agreeable light sky-blue colour. It takes spots out of both linen and wool, and never damages or injures the cloth."
That is...crazy. How is this not marketed as a product?! A "natural" way to clean wool and linen, and the fibres are not destroyed in the process. The only thing I can figure is that it must be prepared fresh each time, and so it's viable today as a marketable product. If it was, it could be turned into a "Tide Stick type of product"--a Wool Stick?--and sold as a spot cleaner. This could be quite the money-maker...

The second historical use of the plant is as a soap and shampoo, along the same lines as the first use. The seeds are ground into boiling water in a sealable container (which sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, but what do I know?!), shaken vigorously (try not to have the container explode on you...), and then strained. Once the liquid is cool enough to be applied to the scalp, it works to remove the buildup from your hair. Nifty! Not nifty enough for me personally to want to try it, but nifty all the same.

Along a totally different vein, the seeds of the horse chestnut can also be broken into small pieces and then added to a fermentation solution containing the bacterium Clostridium acetobutylicum, from the same genus of bacteria that gives us botulism which is a very potent type of food poisoning, which produces acetone as an end product of fermentation (instead of the usual ethanol like brewer's yeast produces). Acetone can then be diluted to make nail polish remover, or it could be used later in the production of cordite (it's first use, prior to nail polish remover), an explosive used in bombs (and as a gunpowder replacement in other explosive devices like bullets).

And yet another completely different use, in order for an outdoor patio to be called a true "beer garden," it must be shaded by horse chestnuts according to Bavarian law. Now the term applies to any outdoor patio space where beer is the main item consumed, but that didn't used to be the case. Bavarian law also dictates (as an aside) the only four ingredients which may be used in the beer-making process: water, barley, hops, and yeast. If the "beer" that you drink contains anything other than those four ingredients (such as wheat beers, rice beers, or beers flavoured with things other than hops), it technically cannot be called beer.

One of the compounds found in horse chestnut seed extract, aescin, is used medicinally to treat a condition called chronic venous insufficiency or CVI. This condition arises when the veins can no longer return deoxygenated blood in your body back to your heart (where it pumps it to your lungs to push out the carbon dioxide and pick up new oxygen). This can result in severe pain due to a lack of oxygen in the extremities, and in especially severe cases can result in the loss of limbs. The causes of this condition can be quite varied, with specific medical conditions often arising in CVI (like diabetes, MS, and even a brief disruption of oxygen to a developing embryo in the womb) or the result of repeated leg injuries (like in the case of paratroopers, tree-climbers, mountain climbers, or people who climb utility poles for repairs). This is not a do-it-yourself medical treatment, however. The aescin must be carefully extracted from the seeds and purified in order to exclude any esculin, a deadly toxic glycoside also present in horse chestnut seeds, from the preparation. If even a small amount of esculin is ingested it can result in seizure, vomiting, severe dehydration, coma, and even death. Unfortunately, this doesn't stop homeopathic practitioners from prescribing it as a homeopathic remedy to thin the blood. Yet another example of the idea that just because it's natural doesn't mean it's good for you or even safe. Be aware of what you're putting in your body and the potential side effects!

The creeping vine from Virginia

Species name: Parthenocissus quinquefolia

Common name: Virginia creeper

Location: Western University campus

As promised in my last blog, this post is about the "other" common vine with blackish-blue berries common, and native, to this area: Virginia creeper. Many people are actually surprised to learn that this species is native, as we don't often associate native species as being potentially invasive species. Anyone who has ever grown Virginia creeper in their garden under ideal conditions knows it will absolutely explode in growth and smother out anything in its path; a rather unfortunate characteristic since I like to encourage gardening with native species! Fortunately, Virginia creeper isn't as vigorous as grower as periwinkle or kudzu, so when you go to bed one night and wake up the next morning your house won't be covered in it (that has never actually happened, but at times it sure feels like both of those plants could grow that fast). The Virginia creeper vine is native to eastern North America, and its native range extends from Quebec and Ontario south to Texas and Alabama. There's a bit of an argument about whether or not its native range is also extending into northeastern Mexico (a few botanists believe it to be either introduced or a different species, depending on who you ask).

Virginia creeper is one of the banes of my existence because it doesn't follow the rules set out by its Latin name. The species epithet "quinquefolia" refers to its five leaflets, all originating from the same point on the petiole which is referred to as a palmately compound leaf. Unfortunately, no one told the Virginia creeper that it had five leaflets originating from a common point on the petiole. When young, sometimes the leaves only produce three leaflets (called a trifolate leaf). This is all fine and dandy, except what other plant might you know about that produces three leaflets from a common point, with the same general leaflet shape as Virginia creeper, and can also grow as a smothering vine along tree trunks? That's right, poison ivy. If you don't want to get mistaken for poison ivy, don't go looking like poison ivy! Geez. There have been a few times I've been out in forests where I could have SWORN that what my supervisor was grabbing onto to push out of the way was poison ivy, but turns out he knew it was only an abnormal Virginia creeper vine. Better to be safe than sorry I think, so I steer clear. Based on the skin sensitivity I display towards other stinging or itchy things (plant or animal-based), I would probably blow up like a balloon if I got the two confused. Keep trifolate leaves away from me and I'm a happy camper :)

All of that being said, Virginia creeper can be a nasty plant in its own right. The whole plant contains oxalic acid, which can be a very potent skin irritant to some people (and those with sensitive skin to other plant-based toxins, especially rhubarb juice, are most likely to be affected). The berries also contain very high levels of oxalic acid and so should not be eaten. Rarely will they cause any type of major problem other than intense intestinal discomfort, but if children confuse them for grapes and eat a lot of them there could be severe consequences. The oxalic acid crystals are sharp enough to perforate mucous membranes, and so severe internal bleeding can result after ingesting significant amounts. As with many toxic plants, a hot-water infusion made from the fruits (most of the time, but sometimes also the leaves) of this plant were used by Native North Americans as a treatment for heart conditions, diarrhea, prostate disease (or other diseases or disorders that might cause difficulty or painful urination), and joint swelling due to (most often) rheumatoid arthritis. No clinical trials have ever been set up to determine if the plant can be effective against any of these conditions, but the possibility is there.

Aside from its traditional medicinal use, this plant is becoming more and more popular as a garden ornamental species. It is very successful in full sun, and does a great job of climbing up buildings to act as insulation from the sun (and so is especially successful on south-facing walls). Fortunately for homeowners using this plant in landscaping, it (like Boston Ivy but unlike English Ivy) produces sticky knobs to attach itself to a substrate (like your brick wall on your house). English Ivy, that nasty little vine, produces penetrating roots that worm their way right into the mortar between the bricks in order to anchor itself. This means that Virginia creeper is a much less destructive plant to grow on the side of your house. There's always a catch to all things that sound to good to be true, isn't there?! The catch for this plant is that removing adhesive knobs can still be quite a labour-intensive process because pulling the live plant from the wall will still rip out small pieces of brick and mortar along with the adhesive knobs. If, however, you cut the plant at the base (either at ground-level for complete removal or just a branch here and there for trimming purposes) and let the plant wither and die on the house, it can be removed once brown with no damage at all (the adhesive knobs have to be alive to be adhesive!). It's like magic! The only downside is that Virginia creeper vines do lose their leaves in the fall (but not before turning a BRILLIANT shade of red first), so you don't get the same kind of winter insulation as you do with English ivy. But for the cost of having to re-brick the side of your house...I think the substitution is worth it!

The Buckeye Battle Cry revisited

Species name: Aesculus glabra

Common name: Ohio buckeye

Location: Western University campus

I know I've written a blog about the Ohio buckeye before (you can read my previous blog post HERE), but I wanted to blog about it again but with better pictures. And you know what? I'm allowed, because it's my blog :) So there!

The Ohio buckeye is a native species (well, marginally native. Definitely native to the northeastern United States; debatable whether or not it's native to southwestern Ontario) that does very well in full sun to partial shade. It's a medium-to-small tree in this part of Ontario because it's growing in a suboptimal part of its range, but further south into Ohio and Kentucky it can be a medium sized tree (up to 25 meters tall). The roots of these trees can tolerate intense rain and can tolerate temporary flooding, but do best in well-drained soil. There are some clear disadvantages to growing the Ohio buckeye as an ornamental species, and the first should be obvious: the fruit produced. If you're trying to increase the squirrel population, growing buckeyes in your yard is one of the best things you could possibly do. You don't want to come between a hungry squirrel and a buckeye tree! If, however, you have a lawnmower that you appreciate using and not replacing the blade every time you cut the lawn, you might want to reconsider this species. The fruits produced are enormous (in ideal conditions, some are almost the size of baseballs!), and when they split open they release one to three seeds. The seeds are large, hard, and really hurt when they hit you in the head. They do make fantastic ornaments, and are really stunning in flower arrangements. You can also collect the seeds and dry them to make beads, as is popular to do at Ohio State University. I can imagine they would be good for building neck muscles because they're so heavy, although I'm not sure why you would want to build your neck muscles.

Something that is often believed about the buckeye is that it produces inhibitory chemicals from the roots to prevent the growth of other species (called allelopathy) like in Norway maples and, to some extent, black walnuts. Fortunately, this isn't the case. To date there's no evidence that buckeyes produce allelopathic chemicals from their roots. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that anything will grow under them! The canopy cover of buckeyes is just so dense that even shade-tolerant grass has a really hard time growing under buckeye trees. The best thing to plant under them would be highly shade tolerant ground cover, but even that might not do it in the long run. But the trade-off? Look at the trees! They're spectacular in their own right. They also turn bright orange early in the fall (late summer, really), long before other species start to change colour. And who doesn't love a bright orange tree in a sea of green?!

So how did the buckeye get to be so closely associated with Ohio? Well, there's the obvious reason that Ohio is the middle of the range for the buckeye, but that in its own right rarely causes a plant to be so ingrained in a state's culture. The story goes that Colonel Ebenezer Sproat arrived in what is now the United States in 1788 to command the Northwest Territory. Once he landed, the Indigenous peoples called Colonel Sproat "Hetuck" because they were so greatly impressed by him; he showed the native people immense respect and communicated with them instead of at them (as so many others did, and, to some extent, continue to do). To Indigenous North Americans, hetuck means the "eye of the buck" which shows power, respect and knowledge. I guess being called the eye of the buck is a great honour! He eventually became known as the "Big Buckeye" and all of the citizens under his control were his buckeyes. Eventually it became a term associated with all of those from and living in Ohio. The common name of the buckeye also stems from the fact that the seeds (or the "nuts") of the tree also resemble the eyes of deer. I bet you'll never look at a buckeye seed the same way again!

Should you decide to try to grow your own buckeye, make sure you find some nice plump seeds before they fall out of the fruit. They are very, very sensitive to drying and won't germinate if the seeds dry out too much. The best way to get around this is to find a fruit that has split open but has not yet dropped the seeds and take them home and put right in the ground. They won't germinate until the next spring, but there's usually a pretty good success rate. Plant a few, then pull all but a couple out of the ground in the summer. At the end of the next summer, choose your favourite and pull all of them but that one out (or leave a bunch! Nothing wrong with wanting a few buckeyes). Just keep in mind that you can't grow these indoors before transplanting (at least, not easily); they do require a period of exposure to extreme cold during the winter in order to germinate properly in the spring. Oh, and invest in a good rake ;)

This plant has a few dirty little secrets

Species name: Gossypium spp.

Common name: cotton

Location: teaching lab at Western (first 6 images) and Samana, Dominican Republic (last 2 images)

Cotton is probably one of the most well-known plant products and the single most important plant fibre around the world, yet few people would recognize cotton growing in plant form, let alone if none of the "bolls" (more on that later) were present. Cotton plants are actually becoming more and more popular as ornamental species around the world because of their beautiful flowers which come in a huge variety of colours and sizes (partially dependent on species, but also on cultivar). Most back-yard gardeners would be lucky to end up with actual cotton seeds covered in fibres growing on their plant; cotton crops are the single most susceptible agricultural or horticultural crop to diseases and pests of all kinds: viruses, bacteria, fungi, insects, and even competition by other plants. As I'm sure you can assume now, the crop that requires the most "-icides" in the world is cotton: herbicides, fungicides, insecticides, and fertilizers. This makes cotton growing very, very detrimental to the environment, and there are some interesting side-effects to this type of spraying that I'll talk about later in this blog.

There are four main species of cotton grown around the world, and each one is selected for different reasons. Believe it or not, all four of the commercially cultivated cotton species are now at risk of becoming endangered in the wild because of over-harvesting. For a crop we grow so much of, that's almost hard to believe! Gossypium hirsutum, otherwise known as upland cotton or Mexican cotton, is native to Central and South America and represents 95% of cotton cultivation in the United States (about 80-90% of cotton cultivation worldwide). Gossypium barbadense, also known as extra-long staple cotton, is native to tropical South America and is highly sought-after for creating fine cotton garments and cotton cloth (Egyptian cotton and Sea Island cotton are almost always derived from this species). Unfortunately, it is incredibly difficult to grow because it requires high amounts of humidity in the air, high amounts of rainfall, and full sun to grow properly. This combination is rare in cotton-producing countries; where there is a high amount of rainfall the temperature isn't optimal, and where the temperature is optimal it is very dry. These factors contribute to why this species only accounts for about 8% of worldwide cotton production. Gossypium arboreum, tree cotton, is native to India, Pakistan, and surrounding areas of the Old World. This species was previously used to make fine textiles for traditional garments, but because of its difficulty in harvesting the cotton fibres (there's a reason why it's called tree cotton!) is now only accounts for less than 2% of the world's cotton production. It is still grown in cultivation in some areas in India for its traditional purposes. The last species used as an agricultural crop is Gossypium herbaceum, Levant cotton, is native to Africa and the Arabian Peninsula. While only accounting for less than 2% of the world's cotton production, it was the first cotton species to be represented in art form. It was first noticed by European traveler Sir John Mandeville, who described the growth of the plant as producing a melon-like fruit that when planted grew sheep. I couldn't make this up if I tried. He also drew exactly that: a melon in the ground with roots coming off of it, and the plant above it with a giant sheep growing on top. Granted, this was the 14th century and they didn't know much about basic biology back then, but still. Sheep don't grow on cotton trees! It wasn't until the 1800s that this story was officially deemed a fable; up until then there were actually Europeans that traveled to Arabia and sub-Saharan Africa in search of sheep growing on trees. A bit ridiculous when you look back!

Cotton fibres and the cotton seeds are produced in structures that are commonly termed the "cotton boll." These bolls contain anywhere from four to seven seeds, depending on the species. Each seed is covered in a dense layer of very short hairs called cotton lint, and then that is covered in a thick layer (or thin layer, depending on the species) of very long hairs called cotton linters. When we harvest the cotton from the plant, there is a machine that all of the cotton bolls are fed into that has razor blades that rotate very quickly, literally "shaving" the cotton seed of its fibres. The fibres are shaken, which eventually separates the lint from the linters and the linters are spun into long threads that can be used to make fabric. The longer the linters the stronger and smoother the thread. So what happens to all the rest of the "stuff"? Well, there's definitely a dirty side of cotton production, and that is the sheer amount of chemicals applied to most cotton fields. When the seeds and the plant flesh enclosing the cotton seeds are tested for toxic chemical levels, they are found to be containing dangerous chemicals at levels that are even too high to feed to pigs. This is a shame, because cotton seeds are actually incredibly nutritious, and being able to feed cotton by-products to animals would be a great use of these plant wastes! Today, most of it is either composted or burned. G. hirsutum is one of the species of cotton used most often to produce cottonseed oil, which is often produced from organic or nearly-organic cotton. This type of cotton cultivation results in a severely reduced yield of cotton fibres due to the cotton boll weevil, which uses the flesh around young cotton seeds as its primary food source. This doesn't harm the development of the seed (much), but does severely reduce the amount of protective covering the seed can produce (aka the seed hairs or the cotton fibres).

Aside from the fibre use and the new-found ornamental use that cotton plants have, they have also been used for centuries as a medicinal species. In both South America and in Africa, the leaves of the plant are pounded and ground into a paste and applied to the skin to treat hypertension and joint pain. The ground leaves can also be consumed to treat delayed or irregular menstruation. There is, actually, a high likelihood that this second use would be incredibly effective. Most of the time, especially before the advent of contraceptives, a delayed or irregular menstrual cycle is the result of pregnancy. One of the chemicals contained in cotton leaves (as well as raw cotton seeds and the tissues surrounding the cotton seeds) is called gossypol and it is a highly toxic chemical to all animals with only one stomach (like humans and pigs; cows are ruminants and so are, for some reason, immune to this chemical). The way that this plant is most toxic is as an abortifacient, or an abortion-inducing chemical.

Cotton production does have a dirty little secret in American history, and that is the use of African slaves. People were shipped over to the United States to spend all daylight hours picking cotton in the fields with little to no rest, and were paid meagre wages (if at all). The only reason why the United States is a major cotton producer today is because of their slave use: the more slaves you have, the more cotton you can produce. In fact, cotton production was the single most important driving factor of the importing of African people to the United States. Granted, cotton is no longer cultivated that way today (thank goodness!) and instead is part of a mechanized process. I often wonder what types of crops would be grown in the southern United States if the slave trade had never existed. Would they be as important in the cotton industry? What about peanuts? Or soybeans? All of these crops required a large amount of human input to grow, and so the only reason why they were ever grown is because of the opportunity to use slave labor. Interesting to think how such events in human history (and not just in the United States, but anywhere in the world where people are brought in to perform manual labor and especially farming) can drastically change the product exports from a country!

Cotton is also an important fibre crop in the paper-making industry. Paper doesn't require wood pulp in order to stick together; it can be made perfectly well from an old pair of jeans blended into a very fine pulp! Cotton fibre paper, sometimes referred to as "rag bond" (but not true rag bond as that's made out of linen or flax fibres), is also called archival-quality paper as it strongly resists decay. For every percentage point of cotton fibres in the pulp that goes into making the paper, an extra 1-5 years is added onto the life of the paper. The paper used for printing theses (which my monstrosity of a PhD thesis will be printed on and permanently bound one day) is 95% cotton fibres, so that adds an extra 95-475 years of life to my thesis. I'll have to provide explicit details in my will that once I die someone I know will go back and visit my thesis every few years between 95 and 475 years after I have it printed to see how long it takes before the pages fall apart. A morbid experiment, but could be a fun one!

The "Vegetable Lamb of Tartary," or the Scythian Lamb, as depicted by Sir John Mandeville (left) and Henry Lee (right) (images both from Wikipedia).

An homage to the Royal Family

I know it's been a while; it's amazing how busy life gets during the summer during the "down time" (actually the busiest time for graduate students since undergrads are off for the summer and there's very few of us who have teaching duties during the summer; this means all of our time can be dedicated to research, or in my case, writing my thesis). 

Unless you've been living under a rock, you've probably heard all about the birth of the Royal Baby, and all of the hooplah that goes along with it. Some people on twitter are less than impressed about hearing about it all the time, but you know what? I don't care :) I think reading about how excited people are for the birth of the future King of England is awesome. Do you know why? It's happy news. People were overjoyed about hearing about the engagement of Will and Kate, then their wedding was just plain ridiculous with regards to how popular it was with people around the world, and now their first child (with a bunch of other special events mixed in the middle; us Canadians got all excited when they came on their first Canadian tour). Sure, there will be some people that will poo-poo when having to hear or read about the Royal Family, and they can poo-poo all they want. It is an opinion, after all, and everyone's entitled to their own. I, for one, love hearing about the Royal Family. I think it probably stems back to when I was a little girl dreaming about being Tinkerbell or Cinderella, and what little girl doesn't dream about being a princess at least once?! Even if they just dream about how much they would hate it :) I personally think hearing all about the Royal Family is a nice change from hearing about all of the sad and terrible other things going on in the world today.

So with that, prepare yourselves for a blog about (a very small part of) the Royal Wedding! Since I had not yet started this blog when Will and Kate got married, I figured a great way to get back into the blogging swing of things would be to pay homage to their relationship and the little bundle of joy they just welcomed into the world. Welcome to life in the spotlight, His Royal Highness Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge!

And without further adieu, a blog about...Kate Middleton's bouquet.

(image from HERE)

There are four plants featured in her bouquet: myrtle, Lily of the Valley (the most dominant flower type), Sweet William, and hyacinth.

Species name: Myrtus communis

Common name: myrtle

Location: Dave's Garden -- growin

The common myrtle is a very popular garden plant in Europe (it's just starting to become more popular in North America, especially in warmer climates) and is native to the southern European countries that border the Mediterranean and northern Africa. Because this plant flowers so late, it is popular in providing a splash of flower colour in the late summer months (as well as a source of pollen and nectar for summer pollinators) and the fruit for the birds and small mammals in the fall. It is very cold-sensitive, and requires protection from even a light frost so would be unsuitable for use as an outdoor ornamental in Canada.

This plant has a long history as a medicinal plant, with such legends as Hippocrates and Dioscorides swearing by it to treat sinus infections. There is, unfortunately, no evidence to suggest it actually has any effects on the body other than a pleasant smell, so don't get too excited. But both the leaves and the flowers were used and are featured heavily in decorative illustrations done by both Hippocrates and Dioscorides in their epic works. This still doesn't explain what it's doing in a wedding bouquet...

Myrtle flowers are also incredibly sacred to the Romans, as they were the flowers that represented both Demeter and Aphrodite. Further, a myrtle branch with flowers on it was often presented, before an olive branch "became popular," as a sign of peace and goodwill when welcoming new neighbours or new members of the family. From here, myrtle flowers have become important signs of unity and goodwill, two important qualities when it comes to joining two hands in marriage (no matter what kind of ceremony it is!). The specific plant chosen for the myrtle flowers is also significant to the Royal Family: Queen Victoria planted the sprig of myrtle she used in her bouquet in her garden, and every royal since then has taken a small clipping from this tree to use in their own bouquets. The cuttings are rooted and then planted alongside Queen Victoria's tree (I can imagine it would be a veritable myrtle forest by now!).

Species name: Convallaria majalis

Common name: Lily of the Valley

Location: Wolfville, Nova Scotia

Lily of the Valley is likely native to Europe and western Asia, although there's still the idea that it might have originated in North America (although this explanation is slowly losing ground). It is, however, a very common flowering plant here in the spring and has even become invasive in some areas, outcompeting our native bloodroot, trilliums, and other native spring wildflowers. I have blogged about this plant once already; if you'd like to read about it you can do so HERE.

This flower is rarely used in wedding bouquets because of its flowering time; the Latin epithet of the species name "majalis" means "flowering in May." Since most people don't choose to get married in the spring and instead opt for the summer, finding these flowers in July or August is incredibly rare. This, in turn, drastically increases the value of the flowers to such an extent that they have become one of the most universal signs of wealth in wedding bouquets. This idea, of course, goes hand-in-hand with the Royal Family and the Lily of the Valley has been an integral part of all wedding bouquets documented in photography and (before the invention of the camera) paintings except Queen Victoria that favoured snowdrops. Will and Kate were lucky; they probably got an extreme discount on their Lily of the Valley flowers since their wedding was on April 29th!

Species name: Dianthus barbatus

Common name: Sweet William

Location: Dave's Garden -- DebinSC

The flower commonly called Sweet William is a rather mysterious flower, because no one is entirely sure how it got its common name. There are many stories about how it refers to William Shakespeare, but also some stories about Prince William, the Duke of Cumberland as well as Saint William of York and William the Conqueror. Whatever the origins of the common name, the plant itself originates from southern Europe and across most of Asia.

As far as royal bouquets go, this plant is incredibly unusual to be included, but I'm sure you can guess why it was. Kate included this flower as a tribute to Will, a gesture that was picked up on by botanists across England long before the media started reporting on it. See, sometimes it pays to know your plants! In general, these are incredibly unusual to use as wedding flowers but they are also very long-lived (they can survive in full-bloom with no signs of wilting or flower decomposition for months after cutting) so make for great wedding flowers if you want a keepsake in your home. Pure white Sweet William flowers are difficult to obtain, and most have a slightly purple tinge to them like the ones pictured above. The pure white flowers that Kate featured in her bouquet are a relatively rare cultivar developed in England in the 1980s.

Species name: Hyacinthus orientalis

Common name: hyacinth

Location: Dave's Garden -- chrisw99

As far as hyacinths go, the specific cultivar or variety pictured above is quite stunning. The stamens have been replaced by petals, a phenomenon referred to as "doubling" (it appears as if the plant has doubled the number of petals produced for a fuller flower, when it reality the flower has become sterile through a genetic mutation). This type of mutation does happen naturally but is incredibly rare; it has been exploited for centuries by horticulturists for fuller flowers. The other benefit of this phenomenon, at least for those observing the flowers, is that because the plant has no chance of reproduction the flower doesn't die as quickly. Dead flowers are usually the result of the end of the production of pollen and nectar, and instead of putting resources into maintaining the petals the plant shifts its resources into producing the fruit. Since doubled flowers don't have stamens to produce pollen, this resource shift can't happen and the flower remains on the plant for a longer period of time. If you'd like to read a full blog about hyacinths, you can do so HERE.

Hyacinths, again, are rare as wedding flowers in general but a staple of all weddings and coronations for the Royal Family. Because of their very early flowering time in the spring, they too are rare and expensive to use in wedding bouquets during the most likely time that a wedding would occur. The use of hyacinths (especially for coronations) can be linked to King George III who insisted that the "royal herb strewer" should precede him for his entrance so he would be walking through the sweet scent of flowers and herbs. King George III reinstated this practice in 1820 for his coronation, and selected hyacinths to decorate the venue due to their intense sweet scent. I'm not sure of Kate's reasoning to include some white hyacinth flowers into her bouquet, but it could be a symbol of the "coronation flower boys" of years gone by.