Welcome back everyone to another episode of Scholar Minor. 

Thank you all for your patience last week, things have been a little chaotic at home. While I wasn't able to complete all the items on my to-do list, there is a new post on my website, www.ursaminorcreations.com, that I encourage you to check out for some Spring Cleaning history and tips. 

Spring is here, and in difficult times, there are few things that bring me more joy than watching the natural world waking up after its long winter sleep. I have a small apartment in the city, with a little enclosed yard, and this week I took out my notebook, sat on the stoop, and finalized my plans for this year's garden.

As I circled the little space, inspecting the condition of my planter boxes, it was admittedly a little sad to encounter the languishing skeletons of last year's basil and echinacea. But in the cracks between the paving stones - and just about everywhere else - the California flora has taken over and is thriving in the April sunshine. These tenacious little plants are beautiful in their own right, and for this first Springtime episode, we'll be talking about the characteristics and folklore of three varieties: sorrels, nightshades, and sunflowers.

When I was a little girl and came upon a patch of wood sorrel, I mistook it for the shamrocks of St. Patrick’s day fame. Evidently, I am not the only person guilty of this misidentification - wood sorrels are sometimes referred to as “false shamrocks”. 

Sorrels are in the genus Oxalis, and there are many hundreds of species all over the world. Most species have a clover or shamrock-like appearance with three heart-shaped leaves and small star-shaped flowers. Some are happy in the sunshine, while others - like the purple-leafed Oxalis triangularis - thrive in the shade. Interestingly, this strange little plant will move its leaves around during the day to catch its preferred amounts of light. The leaves of some species even fold up at nighttime to save energy.

Here in California, the species Oxalis oregana, or redwood sorrel, grows in the shade of the coastal redwood forests. California horticulturist Earl Nickel tells us via Pacific Horticulture that Oxalis acetosella - or common wood sorrel - was utilized by many indiginous cultures. The Cherokee chewed the leaves to soothe sore throats, the Kiowa believed it could alleviate thirst on long journeys, and the Iroquois used wood sorrel to aid with fevers and nausea. 

Sorrel has many uses around the globe in tradition in superstition. In George Frederick Abbott's 1903 Macedonian Folklore, we are advised that "For curing the bite of serpents and other wild beasts, and that they may not touch him, not even the dogs, but flee from him: pound sorrel . . . and strain . . . them well, and then smear with the juice of all, and you shall marvel."

In another seasonally appropriate tradition, a 1975 article titled "Customs and Folklore in Austria' tells us that "an even clearer survival of the ancient rites of spring are the 'greenery' customs (Grunwasen) during Holy Week, the custom for instance, observed in town and country alike, of eating spinach, salad, or sorrel on Maundy Thursday; this will ensure health and fitness during the coming year." 

Modern foragers and folk traditions alike describe the taste of sorrel as distinctly sour, and it is sometimes used to make lemony teas, and in salads. In fact, it’s also known as sour dock, sour-weed, and sour-grass. 

Despite its history of medicinal and culinary usage, larger quantities of sorrel can make you sick. Unless you’ve got a professional around to identify them, don’t start eating your weeds. Also - if you’re in an urban or suburban area - it’s possible your neighbors have tried to get rid of plants like sorrel using poisonous weedkillers. Sometimes these chemicals are absorbed into the plants through the soil, so it’s best to stay away. This goes for plants like dandelions as well. 

If you’re a gardener who has tried to remove wood sorrel, you’ll know that it is nearly impossible to escape. You can spend an entire day on your knees weeding, only to have it grow back at a remarkable pace. This ability to grow quickly and everywhere is one of sorrel’s biggest strengths - but it is also why some gardeners will give sorrel a distinctly chilly reception. Some varieties are invasive and crowd out native plants.

Yellow oxalis - or Oxalis pres-caprae is one of the most common varieties in California, sporting beautiful little yellow blooms that herald the coming of Springtime. Unfortunately, this particular Oxalis was introduced to California from South Africa as an ornamental plant in the early 20th century, and it will completely displace native grasslands and wildflowers. 

In addition to crowding out the plants that are supposed to be there, the birds and other animals that rely on native vegetation for food and shelter are forced to leave once this oxalis species has taken over. Unfortunately, we’re unable to control the spread of yellow oxalis. It is too common and too hardy. But what we can do is work hard to avoid other non-native plants being introduced similarly in future. 

Let’s take a moment to talk about invasive species. Invasive species are everywhere, and not limited to just plant life. They can be mammals, reptiles, fish, and even fungi. They are a species that were introduced - usually by accident - to an environment in which they are not indigenous, and can cause irreparable damage. Ecosystems are fragile, and even a seemingly small invasion can have drastic consequences. 

Take, for example, zebra mussels. These molluscs are native to Eastern Europe but were introduced to the Great Lakes in the United States in the 1980s. They were picked up in the ballast water of ocean-going ships and transported accidentally. 

Once they arrived, they flourished, and outcompeted native species for food and space. Zebra mussels also attach themselves to other native species, like crayfish. They cause excessive water contamination due to their large numbers, have few natural predators, clog pipes, and have an astonishingly negative impact in the Great Lakes ecosystem. 

Sometimes, invasive species are introduced purposefully by the human population - usually as an attempt at controlling other populations. In 1949, five cats were brought to South Africa's Marion Island to control the mice there. 28 years later, the population of cats had increased to 3,400. The mice now under control, the cats began feasting on the island's native birds, endangering some species and upsetting the island's entire food chain.

When it comes to plants, you can help prevent invasive species by planting your garden with varieties native to your region. It’ll be easier, too, as plants that are supposed to be in your area and climate are much more likely to thrive than something imported from elsewhere.

Nightshades, or Solanaceae, are a huge plant family containing a multitude of species and varieties. Interestingly, while some types of nightshades are regularly consumed by humans - including tomatoes, potatoes, eggplants, and bell peppers - others are decidedly NOT edible and, in fact, deadly.  

In the corners of my garden, there is a beautiful nightshade of the vine variety that has climbed all over my fence, my door frame, and my gardening implements during their winter of disuse. In the late spring it sports little green berries that turn black in the summertime, but these are best left for the birds - nightshades can be very dangerous!

Many folks have probably heard, at least in passing, about one of these notoriously poisonous varieties: Atropa belladonna, or deadly nightshade. Belladonna, which sounds like the name of a protagonist in a romance novel, is native to much of Europe, Western Asia, and North Africa. 

It is a perennial plant with thin, graceful branches, smooth pointed leaves, purple bell-shaped flowers, and shiny black berries. It grows mainly in disturbed soils along roads, fences, and in wooded areas, and some related varieties have red berries instead of black ones. The leaves, flowers, and fruit are poisonous - if you find belladonna growing where you live, DO NOT EAT IT. I cannot express this enough!

Often responsible for poisoning grazing livestock, the nightshade contains steroidal alkaloids. These compounds inhibit the enzyme acetylcholinesterase in people and animals, which effects the nervous system. It causes tremors, psychosis, coma, and death. 

Nightshade also contains a compound called atropine, and a Belladonna tincture was used as eye drops by Venetian women during the Renaissance period to dilate their pupils - a bizarre and extremely dangerous practice believed to make their eyes more beautiful. Interestingly, the drops that modern ophthalmologists use to dilate patients’ eyes before procedures still contain atropine, though in a tiny and medically approved quantity. 

Deadly Nightshade was used over the centuries to make, no surprise here, poison. In Shakespeare's Macbeth, the Danes are defeated through the use of Belladonna as a poison. Some historians believe that the Roman emperor Augustus was murdered via Nightshade-laced figs. 

A you might expect, a plant as powerful and dangerous as Nightshade turns up frequently in superstitions and folk traditions. One particularly strange example, as recorded by Richard Blakeborough in 1898, advises as follows: 

"There are several charms and ceremonies peculiar to Midsummer Eve, the careful observance of which enables a maiden to learn something of what fate may have in store for her. Does she doubt the constancy of her lover, she can satisfy herself once for all, no matter what other folk may say, and in spite of anything she may have seen or imagined herself, by observing the following rite. 

Certainly the carrying out of the ceremony is a wee bit troublesome, but of what account is trouble when such vital points are at issue as the unmasking of perfidy or the establishment of truth and love? 

To perform the rite the maiden must proceed as follows: - Pull three hairs from the tail of a perfectly black cat, also three from a red cow; gather three leaves of the deadly nightshade, and, having killed a white pigeon, smear each leaf with blood from its heart. Now make three flat parcels, each containing a cat's hair, a cow's hair, and a leaf. 

Next stew the pigeon, saving the gravy. Now make a savoury dish, adding thereto the gravy. The suspected one must be asked to supper on Midsummer Eve, the damsel being careful to place under the tablecloth and three parcels, in such manner that one will lie under his plate, one under the dish containing the gravy, and the third under her own plate. 

During supper, should her lover find the least fault with any person or thing, he is faithless. If the maiden is very deeply in love, I should advise her to do most of the talking; let it be only a one-course supper, and hurry through with it. 

The above charm is rarely reported to now; the several difficulties which have to be overcome before it can be successfully carried out, have almost laid it on one side. But I well remember its being tried years ago by one of our servants, and I have been informed that it was resorted to, inside of the last five years, at a farm-house near Swainby."

That sounds like an awful lot of work - it may be better to just ask him instead. Communication is key, after all. 

Hanging from the mandarin tree in my garden is a bird feeder. Though in recent weeks I have had some bird visitors, initially the only creatures that were interested in the birdseed were mice. As I have a nightly habit of sitting outside for a time before retiring to bed, I’d often interrupt them hopping along the tree branches to enjoy a sunflower seed snack. 

Fortunately for me, these little visitors are messy eaters. In their haste to enjoy their dinner before being discovered, they dropped almost as many seeds as they ate. A few days ago, I realized that I had little sprouts appearing on the ground under the bird feeder - and sure enough, I can confirm I have some sunflowers on the way. 

Sunflowers, genus Helianthus, are about 70 species of plants from the aster family, Asteraceae. They are native to the Americas, and had hundreds of uses for the many indigenous peoples here. Sunflower seeds could be pounded into flour and used for cakes or eaten on their own. They could also produce purple dye, utilized to color textiles and body paint, the oil could soften skin and hair, and the stalks were used for building and crafting. 

Sunflowers were representative of the bounty of the natural world and featured prominently in ceremonies and traditions. In Mexico, indigenous peoples began cultivating crops such as squash, corn, and beans as early as 8000 BCE - and recent archeological evidence suggests that they may have also domesticated sunflowers around this time.

The Sunflower was taken back to Europe by the Spanish in the 16th century, and they thrived in many European climates, becoming especially popular in Eastern Europe and Russia where they were grown in enormous quantities to produce sunflower oil. 

Sunflowers are easy to identify. They can grow up to 15 feet tall and have rough, serrated leaves and upright hairy stems. Their blooms are generally very large and circular, with a large central disk and numerous little yellow petals. Blooming between July and September, in the late fall the petals will dry out and the seeds in the central disk are exposed for harvesting. 

It’s important to note that one of the most common myths associated with the sunflower, isn’t actually about the sunflower at all.

A simple search for folklore and myth surrounding sunflowers will bring up the Greek myth of Apollo and Clytie. Clytie, a water nymph and daughter of sea-God Oceanus, fell in love with the sun-God, Apollo. Unfortunately, Apollo wasn't interested, and Clytie sat before Mount Olympus for nine days refusing food and drink until he changed his mind. 

Some versions of the story tell us that Apollo turned Clytie into a flower, while others say she turned into one without his interference. Either way, the myth suggests that sunflowers turn to face the direction of the sun because of Clytie's love for Apollo. 

A lot of sources will tell you that Clytie turned into specifically a sunflower. But that’s unlikely.

As we noted earlier, the sunflower is native to North and South America and didn't reach other continents until the Spanish got involved in the 16th century. Some of the confusion regarding the identity of Clytie's flower may come from the translation of the plant's name. There is actually a term for plants that move according to the position of the sun - turnsoles. Sunflowers are not the only species of flower to exhibit this behavior - remember our variety of Oxalis that does this? - so it's a bit of a mystery which specific plant the lovelorn Clytie really became. 

I am so happy that Spring is here, and the warmer weather is already cheering me up. I hope that you enjoyed our first little trip into the garden, and that we can take many more.

Citations are in the show notes, as is a link to my website, www.ursaminorcreations.com, where you can listen to other episodes and check out some additional content. I am hard at work learning how to make videos, so stay tuned for updates about a YouTube channel.  Also, feel free to email me anytime if you have a topic you’d particularly like to hear about - or just to say hello - at ursaminorcontact@gmail.com.

Have a beautiful week, and I’ll talk to you again next Wednesday.