The Oregon Fawn Lily, Erythronium oregonum and its many names.

/2 Comments/in , , , , , , , , , , , , /by

Oregon Fawn lily- Erythronium oregonum
© 2011 Aislinn Adams
Oregon Fawn Lily, Erythronium oregonum.


The Fawn lily, Erythronium oregonum, and its many common names.

Erythronium oregonum has many common names- giant white fawn lily, Oregon fawn lily, dog’s tooth violet, trout lily, adder’s tongue, lamb’s tongue. Maybe this is why the Historic Deepwood Estate here in Salem, Oregon- where I live- has chosen the scientific name for their annual spring native plant festival. Not wishing to confuse people with a common name that is not “common” to all, they use the scientific name Erythronium (pronounced, err- ih-throne- ee-um.) Personally I find it much more useful to use the scientific name for the same reason. Never underestimate the creativity of humans to come up with interesting and numerous common names for one plant, and though they are lovely, ultimately they are rather confusing, especially when trying to communicate which plant you mean to someone.

My first fawn lily, Erythronium oregonum.

Erythronium oregonum was one of the first bulbs I planted in my own garden when I moved to Oregon many years ago. It has since seeded itself throughout my front yard, totally ignoring all my efforts to corral this charming spring bloomer into an attractive sweep of creamy yellow. It was one of these flowers that I used for my botanical illustration above, and inspired me to create my Pacific Northwest Native Plant Greeting Card Series.

The fawn lily and early plant explorers.

When I first saw this beautiful fawn lily here in the Willamette Valley I assumed it must have been collected by Lewis and Clark or David Douglas in the early 19th century. This is not the case. The first fawn lily to be described from this part of the world, pink fawn lily, Erythronium revolutum, was collected by Archibald Menzies in 1793 and described by James Edward Smith in 1809. Then in 1806 the fawn lily’s mountain “cousin” the glacier lily, Erythronium grandiflorum, was brought back by Lewis and Clark (Lewis called it a dog’s tooth violet in his journal) and described by Frederick Pursh in his Flora Americae Septentrionalis in 1814. (for more on the collection see my blog  The saga of the Lewis and Clark Plant Collection and the Irish nurseryman Bernard McMahon’s unwitting role in its fate!.) The glacier lily, Erythronium grandiflorum, also has other common names including yellow fawn lily and yellow avalanche lily.

The common fawn lily, Erythronium oregonoum, erroneously mis-identified.

It wasn’t until 1935 that the more common fawn lily, Erythronium oregonum, was finally described by the Oregon botanist, Elmer Applegate. As is often the case with plant exploration and identification, the story is not that straightforward. According to Applegate “for nearly a century this familiar plant has been known erroneously as Erythronium giganteum Lindl. or as Erythronium grandiflorum var. albiflorum.” ( Kalmiopsis Vol. 10 2003. Native Plant Society of Oregon.) So maybe my assumption wasn’t so far off the mark. Is it possible that some of the Erythronium grandiflorum bulbs collected by Douglas (April, 1826 and 1827) may have been Erythronium oregonum after all?

Elmer Applegate and David Douglas.

There is a tenuous link of a different kind between Applegate and Douglas. Applegate’s wife Esther Emily Ogden was a niece of Peter Skene Ogden (the well-known fur trader and chief trader with the Hudson’s Bay Company.) Douglas met Ogden August 30, 1826 at Fort Vancouver, Washington, directly after Douglas’ exciting 12-day descent of the Columbia River from Fort Colville in eastern Washington. During that descent he had a lucky escape when his canoe was wrecked at the Dalles; causing him to loose the insects he had collected in the interior and some seeds, but he managed to save bulbs of the glacier lily, Erythronium grandiflorum, collected in the Fort Colville area. In April the following year, while on his journey overland to Hudson Bay to meet his ship bound for England, he collected more of the glacier lily in the same area and transplanted them in the hope of keeping them growing all the way to England. Maybe it was these particular transplants that were the first fawn lilies that he is credited with introducing into England. Now I wonder if they were all glacier lilies: if some of the Oregon fawn lilies had not been introduced into the mix also?

When I drive by the Deepwood Estate along Mission Road here in Salem and see the expanse of pale yellow that is the fawn lily, it’s hard to imagine that Douglas didn’t see them while traveling though the Willamette Valley. At any rate, it is a wonderful sight to see and, no doubt, it will be enjoyed by the many visitors to the festival next weekend- Friday and Saturday April 5 and 6. For more information about the festival click here- http://historicdeepwoodestate.org/historic/estate/calendar_events/2013/04/05/  I am delighted to say that my cards will be on sale at the festival also.

Aislinn Adams

 

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.”

/4 Comments/in , , /by

© 2005 Aislinn Adams
Lady Hillingdon rose, Rosa ‘Lady Hillingdon’

Aislinn, Aisling or Ashling – What’s in a name?

When I was young very few people had the name Aislinn- an old Irish (Gaelic) word meaning dream or vision and a genre of poetry. Most people spell the name ‘Aisling’ or ‘Ashling’ (more phonetically) and although my name is spelled Aislinn, it is pronounced Ash-ling also. This pronunciation comes from  the southern Irish province of Munster where words ending ‘inn’ are pronounced ‘ing’ in their particular dialect.

Embarrassing name

I was rather embarrassed by my name’s meaning when young. I loved the idea of it but at the same time it seemed a bit grandiose for me. To make matters worse my brothers would like to tease me about it, saying I was more like a nightmare than a dream! It was especially embarrassing in those awkward teen years when practically anything said about you could cause embarrassment.

I have a dream…

Then one day while on my first solo adventure traveling in Greece I met a Canadian fellow-traveler and, while explaining my name to him, he said “Oh! You mean as in; I have a dream?” Perfect! I thought. Why didn’t I think of that? I immediately loved that explanation and that’s how I like to interpret my name ever since. For me it means an aspiration or dream I want to realize — a vision of something I want to work towards and achieve.

 

My name has influenced me. I don’t agree totally with Shakespeare. Of course a rose would still smell as sweet if it had another name but I think it would have a different perfume. Names do matter. Because my name carries with it so much meaning in Irish history and culture it sparked in me, from a very young age, an enduring interest in and love for the Irish language, culture and history. It is because of this interest that I collect old Irish proverbs for my Irish sayings greeting card series.  And, it is why I love to write blogs about the human stories behind plants and to connect them to Ireland whenever I can.

It may strike you as a little thing but having had to explain how to pronounce my name (and happy to do so) most of my life, it has made me more sensitive to all names and their meaning. And now that I live in an incredibly diverse country with so many names from different countries and traditions I try my best to use the correct pronunciation of a name, not its easier anglicized version. To me it is a question of respect, a way to honor that person’s identity, history and heritage. And in the end, I believe, it makes us all the richer for it.

Aislinn Adams

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.” Shakespeare