Lacking the physical and mental oomph these days to organize photo shoots of better subjects, I just go places and photograph whatever is in my path.
In theory this could have gone a few directions–from boardwalks to bridges–but where it went this week was to dandelions and friends.
Tooth of Lion
From Medieval Latin via French into English:
dens leonis → dent-de-lion → dandelion
Not a “dandy lion” at all, then. This makes sense because dandy they are not, although prolific (and persistent) they are.
When I forget to replace my birding lens with my landscape/utility lens, I sometimes get interesting, albeit unintentional, effects.
When I remember to take the right lens, I have the opportunity to catch the seed heads in just about every possible stage of development, pretty much no matter which part of the spring/summer/fall it is.
The fact that there are so many to choose from would be an annoyance if they were in my lawn, but is an advantage when I want a shot of a whole seed head in good light.
Bane of Flea
From the Latin to the English, with no record of a stopover in French:
Erigeron philadelphicus → Philadelphia fleabane
It’s a North American plant, which explains the lack of a French name to date, but apparently it is now colonizing Europe. Stay tuned.
Easily confused with Canada fleabane and with annual fleabane (AKA daisy fleabane, AKA eastern daisy fleabane). Sometimes casually referred to as daisies or asters, since they are in the Asteraceae family.
Why is it called fleabane and not, say, hairystalk, an identifying feature mentioned by every site I visited?
Historically, fleabane was burned or dried in sachets to repel fleas, gnats, flies, and all other manner of tiny, annoying creatures, though there is little evidence of its effectiveness as an insect repellent.
– from a relentlessly cheery article on this “ideal weed” in the Brooklyn Botanical Garden’s Weed of the Month feature
A writer on the needs of bees early in the warm season has made me rethink my annoyance with dandelions. Your photos give me pause, too. Why not “appreciate deeply” those colours and forms? They were integral to my childhood, doubtless because adults were happy (1) to see the blossoms plucked before turning to seed and (2) to have them chosen instead of the laboriously raised flowers in the garden beds. The tiny pink flowers, which I call “English asters” and did not realize are “fleabane,” often compose part of the field flower bouquet a child or grandchild offers: sweet memories.
Laurna – One article I read argued that if dandelions were tightly restricted geographically, people would travel at great expense to appreciate them. Maybe part of the problem with them here is their overabundance. I’m glad they’re feeding bees. Colour is an unreliable differentiator even between fleabane species (from what I saw online), but the flowering seasons of asters and fleabane vary. Asters apparently flower from August to October, so anything now in bloom ain’t an aster. Exactly what kind of fleabane it is, well, that’s a problem for an expert. 🙂
If we weren’t taught that a dandelion was a weed and therefore bad, I suspect they would/might be a welcome spring wildflower.
We don’t hear any objection to coltsfoot, the “imitation” dandelion that arrives a few weeks before the dreaded real dandelion, yet coltsfoot looks and behaves the same, albeit in small groups. (Although Findlay Creek had quite large concentrations this spring)
No one objects to the goatsbeard, yet it acts as a taller dandelion in all mannerisms. Again in less dense concentrations.
Having said all that I can do without the dandelion thank you, but keep the coltsfoot and goatsbeard around please.
Jim R – Yeah, I’ve seen those smaller/taller/somehow-gentler versions of dandelions but never remember their names. I agree – in small-ish quantities, they’re delightful. I’ll keep an eye out for them on the next ‘shoot’.
What wonderful photos! Photo shoots come in many varieties, and this one counts. Plus, I never thought about the origins of the name, Dandelion. Thanks for today’s bit of learning. Actually, it is early enough, chances are I could learn another thing today.
Judith – At work when we-as-a-group learned something new/odd (but maybe I repeat myself) I used to say, “We’ve learned something; we can go home now.” Sadly, it never seemed to work. Now, of course, I am at home as I expect you are also. Oh, well. The learning will have to be its own reward. 🙂
I just learned that dandelions open in the morning and close up at night. Living on the 22nd floor, I never gave them much thought beyond a happy bit of colour. Did know bees loved them. and that people eat/boil the leaves to drink. Quite a resource, actually.
Barbara – Dandelion wine, too, I think, but I expect you need the young leaves. The mature ones are tough and bitter I’m thinking.
Dandelion wine is made from the flowers, plus citrus fruits, sugar, etc. Dried dandelion root is sometimes used as a coffee substitute, as I recall. Some people like the young leaves in salads, but I find them too bitter.
Laurna – I admit that I have never been tempted to even taste any part of the dandelion. Thanks for the rundown.