The saga of the Lewis and Clark Plant Collection and the Irish nurseryman Bernard McMahon’s unwitting role in its fate!

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This week I’m posting a different botanical illustration of the Pacific Northwest native plant named for Bernard McMahon- and not one of my own. This actual botanical illustration was very possibly created in McMahon’s home. To find out how read on.

Tall Oregon grape. Mahonia aquifolium syn. Berberis aquifolium. Illustrated by Frederick Pursh in his Flora Americae Septentrionalis, 1814.
 According to Joseph Ewan (Frederick Pursh 1774-1820 and his Botanical Associates)
 you can see where Pursh traced the plant from the dried specimen in the Lewis and Clark Plant Collection.

The Lewis and Clark Plant Collection and Bernard McMahon’s role in its fate.

While researching my last blog – Nurseryman Bernard McMahon and the Oregon native plant with an Irish connection– I promised to return to the story of Bernard McMahon’s, sometimes unwitting, role in the fortunes of the Lewis and Clark Plant Collection.

“The convoluted history of the seeds and plants collected by Lewis and Clark, their passage from Washington and Oregon into the botanical record was nearly as arduous as the journey itself… Working largely behind the scenes, one obscure figure, Bernard McMahon, assumed a primary role in nurturing the seeds from field to page.”

Robert S. Cox

From the Pacific Northwest to McMahon’s nursery.

In order to understand how this happened let us go back a little and look at the history of this famed collection once it arrived back in the eastern U.S. The collection was shipped back east in two stages. The first shipment was sent back in 1805 and the second brought back by Lewis & Clark in 1806. There were two parts to the collection- the dried specimens and the live seeds. The dried specimens were sent to the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia where, it was understood, Dr. Benjamin Smith Barton would assist Lewis in preparing their description for publication. The seeds were divided between McMahon and William Hamilton who were to propagate and grow them in secret until such time as Lewis would bring the account of his travels and the plant collection to print. Apparently, McMahon proceeded immediately to germinate the seeds whereas Hamilton was slower to set to the task.

From under his nose!

While Jefferson and Lewis were counseling McMahon to keep the precious live plant collection secret fearing some unscrupulous botanist might, on discovering its existence at McMahon’s nursery, rob Lewis of his right to describing them first, in the end it was the dried specimens that were more at risk of being spirited away. Ironically, this was not done by some outside interloper but by the very person McMahon recommended to assist Lewis bring his work to publication; and it was this assistant who ultimately published the collection first, not in the United States but in England – adding insult to injury.

MacMahon helps speed up the plant collection’s journey to print.

For a variety of reasons both Barton and Lewis delayed in preparing the material for publication. McMahon, wishing to be helpful and possibly anxious to shorten the “quarantine” period of the secret plants he had in his care, recommended the young German botanist Frederick Pursh for the job.  Pursh was probably already familiar with some of the dried specimens, having been employed by Barton at the time that the first shipment of plants had arrived back east.

Difficult working conditions bring Pursh to MacMahon’s home.

By all accounts Barton was a difficult person to work for and things did not go well between him and Pursh- so much so that by early 1807 Pursh had moved into MacMahon’s home and begun working on Lewis’ plants there. At this time Lewis was Governor of the Louisiana Territory and living in St. Louis. MacMahon wrote several times to St. Louis seeking instruction on Pursh’s behalf but with no success. He also took it upon himself, while waiting for the arrival of Lewis, to pay Pursh to describe the dried specimens (which had been brought from Barton’s Herbarium.) Pursh had the work more or less completed by early 1809 and grew restless waiting for further instruction. However, in 1809 Lewis died in tragic circumstances. Clark, as executor of Lewis’ will, took over responsibility for the collection material but, while MacMahon kept the live and dried specimens in safe keeping for Clark, Pursh left (or should I say absconded?) with the drawings and descriptions- and as it turns out some of the dried specimens as well.

Somehow, amazingly, during all this time (over a year) while Pursh was living at MacMahon’s and working on the collection, he never discovered the live specimens growing at the nursery (Joseph Ewan- Frederick Pursh 1774-1820 and his Botanical Associates.)

Finally published in London, England.

A description of the well-travelled collection was finally published in England by Pursh in his Flora Americae Septentrionalis (1814.) It is not clear to me if Pursh was ever properly reimbursed  for the work he did for Lewis. Nonetheless does that excuse his behavior? Does a combination of frustrated ambition and impecuniosity justify his conduct? His mysterious disappearance from the U. S. and reappearance in London a couple of years later caused much speculation and criticism amongst American botanists at the time and maybe it is for this reason that his Flora never sold well.

What of the live plant specimens at McMahon’s Nursery?

According to Ewan the first evidence of McMahon advertising plants for sale from the collection was 1815. Sadly he didn’t live long enough to benefit from such sales, dying the following year. But as I mentioned in my last blog, his life and work was memorialized by the botanist Thomas Nuttall who, in 1818, named the genus of shrubs Mahonia for him in his flora, The Genera of North American Plants. According to the record this flora was much more successful than Pursh’s.

Aislinn Adams

Nurseryman Bernard MacMahon and the Oregon native plant with an Irish connection.

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Mahonia aquifolium syn. Berberis aquifolium.
© Aislinn Adams 2008

Tall Oregon grape, Mahonia aquifolium- Oregon’s state flower and its Irish name!

I’ve always marveled at how something as fragile as a plant can end up thousands of miles from its original home: collected and pressed into herbarium specimens or more amazingly, kept alive on long transcontinental journeys and treacherous sea voyages.  Somehow they avoid destruction and are finally transplanted into a foreign soil and there, not only survive but thrive.

I must confess I feel a certain affinity with these well-travelled plants. I am also a transplant from a far off land having emigrated to the U.S. from Ireland. However, my journey was pretty uneventful and mundane when compared to the fortunes of these early pioneering plants and their adventurous collectors who often risked everything to bring them back.

As a horticulturist and botanic artist I feel not a small debt to these enduring plants and their collectors. So, when I post my botanical illustrations, instead of writing about their cultivation I prefer to write the human stories behind the plants. The story behind this week’s botanical illustration, tall Oregon grape, Mahonia aquifolium, contains all the elements of a good plant story but it also has another important attraction for me: it connects the place of my birth with my new home in Oregon.

Two scientific names for one plant!

The connection to Ireland lies in the second scientific name for this genus of shrubs. For some reason Oregon grape has two scientific names- Berberis and Mahonia. Generally speaking, botanists use the first name while horticulturists use the second. As a horticulturist I learned to name the genus Mahonia and even though I have been aware of both names for many years it has never bothered me which one was used. Now that I’ve discovered the Irish connection I’m more inclined to favor the latter.

Years ago in Ireland I chose Mahonia aquifolium for my first garden. Back then I didn’t give the plant’s scientific name much thought. It wasn’t until I moved to the Pacific Northwest and discovered Mahonia aquifolium growing in the wild that I began to wonder about its Irish-sounding name.

Irish Nurseryman Bernard MacMahon

That is how I discovered the Irish nurseryman Bernard MacMahon (1775-1816) . Maybe it was because MacMahon had to leave Ireland in a hurry that so little is known about his early life other than he emigrated (probably from Ulster) around 1796. (Some historians suggest that he fled government persecution due to his political leanings towards the United Irishmen.) Fortunately we know a lot more about his life in the U.S.

MacMahon Nursery and Seedhouse.

By the early 1800’s MacMahon had established  a successful nursery and seed business in Philadelphia where many of the up and coming young botanists of the day would gather (including William Darlington and Thomas Nuttall.) However, MacMahon’s main “claim to fame” was his popular gardening book The American Gardener’s Calendar– the first book of its kind to be published in the U.S. It ran to 11 editions and had many admirers, one of whom was President Thomas Jefferson. So impressed was Jefferson with The Calendar that he became a regular correspondent with MacMahon, often trading plants and seeds.

Lewis and Clarke’s Plant and seed collection.

1806, the year The Calendar was published was also the year that Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery returned from the Pacific Northwest. As directed by Jefferson the expedition returned with a trove of plants and seeds collected along the way. Jefferson expected Lewis to publish their description as soon as possible.  Unfortunately, due to his untimely death, publication was delayed. The story of this famous plant and seed collection is an interesting but complicated one with many twists and turns and MacMahon’s, sometimes unwitting, role in its fortunes will be the subject of my next blog. In the meantime, for the purpose of this story, all you need to know is that the collection passed through the grasp of several individuals before finally arriving in the capable hands of MacMahon.

“Classified” seeds!

This was no ordinary collection.  Jefferson passed on the larger portion of the collection’s seed to MacMahon with strict instructions: as federal property he was forbidden to propagate any of the seeds for commercial use and the collection had to be kept secret while its description awaited publication. In spite of these restrictions MacMahon set to propagating and growing the seeds with great diligence and skill and  the plants flourished. He never really benefited from the plants commercially, nor from being able to advertise their existence at his nursery but in the end he was honored posthumously for his efforts. In 1818 Thomas Nuttall named this genus of shrubs for him in his publication The Genera of North American Plants. I suppose one could say the reward for his hard work, loyalty and discretion was immortality in a plant’s name- for which I am very glad – because every time I see this plant I feel the connection between Ireland and Oregon and the distance recedes.

Aislinn Adams

Botanical illustrations become rubber stamps for Spring.

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© 2011 Aislinn Adams
Fawn lily, Erythronium oregonum

Botanical Illustrations become rubber stamps for Spring. 

I’m delighted to announce that twelve of my black and white botanical illustrations are now available as rubber stamps. I’ve just signed my first license contract with the rubber stamp company Impression Obsession.

Spring is finally in the air and the inspiration for this rubber stamp collection. There are lots of blossoms to choose from- Florida dogwood, Chinese plum, peach blossom, fawn lily, passion flower, rhododendron, lily of the valley, daffodil and crab apple. I am particularly happy to see the American native plant in the selection- fawn lily, Erythronium oregonum – a favorite from the Pacific northwest where I live.

Check out the complete collection of my new botanical illustration rubber stamps at this link.

Aislinn Adams

The Art of Communication – 100 Artist Show

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The Art of Communication – 100 Artist Show
February 1-March 3rd


This pen and ink illustration was created for The Art of Communication – 100 Artist Show at the Mary Lou Zeek Gallery in Salem, Oregon. I decided to use my pen and ink drawing style for this black and white illustration. It seemed in keeping with the topic. I also added a little Caran d’Ache pencil for color.

First Day of Issue Stamps.

Mary Lou Zeek was inspired to create the show when she found a collection of first day of issue stamped envelopes at an estate sale. She invited 100 artists to participate in the project and paired us with each other. We were then sent a stamped envelope, addressed to our partner artist, containing a sheet of blank writing paper and asked to write a letter on any topic we liked.

While reflecting on the title of this project I thought my letter would be some kind of meditation on the nature of communication. However, when I actually received the package I was so moved by the first day of issue stamps on the envelope that I wrote about preserving the past instead- a subject I’m passionate about.

An inspiring letter.

I received a wonderfully moving letter in response to mine from my partner artist, Leslie Peterson. A couple of lines recounting a story from her family’s past really struck me and sent me back to reflecting on the nature of communication once again. In our letters we both lamented the often “casual disregard” for the past here in the U.S. and Leslie talked about preserving “memory”. She wrote about her grandfather, an immigrant from Austria who never learned English, while his children, born and reared in the U.S., never learned German. This was not unusual for the time. However, I keep wondering how Leslie’s grandfather communicated with his children? How did he pass down his family’s stories, his history, and what was lost?

An authentic voice.

I too am an immigrant. I come from Ireland originally. Thankfully times have changed and I don’t have to worry about assimilating in a way that would force me to deny my past or silence my voice. So, in the end I created a piece that simply expresses my need to have my own voice – to communicate honestly and authentically who I am- no bells and whistles or special effects. And I communicate as an illustrator because that is what I am.

The Art of Communication- 100 Artist Show starts next week at the Mary Lou Zeek Gallery.  If you would like to learn more about the exhibition and see all the artists’ work just click on this link and scroll to the bottom of the page to see all the artists’ work.

Aislinn Adams
January 12, 2012.

Famous Irish Women greeting cards to celebrate the 100th anniversary of International Women’s Day.

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Feisty, Famous Irish Women.

To celebrate the 100th anniversary of International Women’s Day I’m launching the first two greetings cards in my new series- Famous Irish Women. The first two women are Queen Maeve of Connacht and St. Brighid of Ireland, one a warrior queen, the other a spiritual leader and god.


Queen Maeve of Connacht


St Brigid of Ireland

Who was Queen Maeve?

Queen Maeve, spelled Medb in the Irish language (Gaelic), was the famous warrior queen of Connacht, a province in western Ireland. Medb is best known as the main protagonist in the epic mythological tale “The Cattle Raid of Cooley” – Táin Bó Cúailnge.  Any enemy warrior who cast his eyes on her would loose one third of his power and courage.

Queen Maeve ruled a large kingdom with a powerful army. She was a woman of great ambition, drive, and energy- characteristics that the Christian monks, who recorded her story in the 8th Century, didn’t quite appreciate in a woman. I like to read between the lines of their patriarchal “spin”, which cautions against the excesses of an “uppity” woman, and revel in her temerity and boldness.

I offer you my own interpretation of Queen Maeve in an effort to cast her in a more positive and empowering light and to inspire us all to celebrate such characteristics in ourselves.

Who was St. Brigid of Ireland?

St. Brigid, (c. 452-525) or Naomh Bríd in the Irish language (Gaelic), is believed to have founded a famous monastery in Kildare, Ireland. Bríd, regarded by many as a god, is one of Ireland’s three patron saints along with St. Patrick and St. Colmcille.

Imbolg and the god Bríd.

St Brigid’s day, February 1st, falls on the pre-Christian Irish spring fertility festival of Imbolg (or Imbolc) – no coincidence I’m sure. Imbolg is one of the four ‘cross-quarter days’ (days that fall approximately half way between the solstice and equinox)  and often referred to in Irish mythology. Many believe the god Bríd was Christianized as St Brigid when the Irish people peacefully adopted Christianity in the 5th century C.E.

Patron saint of many.

Brigid is the patron saint of so many it’s hard to keep track.  Some of my favorites are healers, artists and poetry. Her hagiography is rich in symbolism. In my greeting card design I show several of the symbols or stories associated with her- the oak leaf because Kildare, where she founded her monastery, means the church of the oak in Irish; the tongues of fire around her head are believed to symbolize her connection to the Christian God. The sacred flame was also central to the druids’ faith and a perpetual flame was maintained by nuns at Brigid’s monastery right up to the 15th century.

St. Brigid’s cross – a more ancient symbol.

St. Brigid’s cross is probably the most commonly known object connected to her. In many parts of the country people bring a freshly made (from rushes) Brigid’s cross into their homes each year on February 1st. Recently I learned that the distinctive Brigid’s cross is not only a Christian symbol but also harkens back to the ancient symbol of the great mother god of infinite life-giving powers- the diamond shape in the center of the cross represents the mother god’s navel holding the sacred seed.

My favorite Brigid symbols.

My favorite symbols in the illustration are her traditional Irish cloak or brat (in Irish) and the crozier- symbol of a bishop. Even though the brat features in one of her most famous stories I chose it also because later during the colonial conquest of Ireland in the 17th century the brat, being traditional Irish dress and possibly a symbol of national defiance, was out-lawed by the English. I show her with a bishop’s crozier because many believe that as the founder and abbess of the great Kildare monastery Brigid was indeed a bishop. This is controversial of course given the Catholic Church’s current struggle with accepting women as leaders.

Whether you regard Brigid as a god, saint or bishop, there’s no denying her incredible popularity and influence. St. Brigid was not a leader who exerted power over people but rather one who inspired loyalty through her wisdom and compassion- an empowering leader. Bríd the god was the self-generating mother god representing the earth’s life force- a very powerful figure. I hope you enjoy my new greeting cards celebrating Brigid and Maeve. There are many more to come – Ireland has no shortage of interesting, inspiring women.

Aislinn Adams.

Happy St Brigid’s Day- Irish patron saint (and god?)

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© 2011 Aislinn Adams

St. Brigid of Ireland, Naomh Bríd.

February 1st is the first day of spring and St Brigid’s Day in Ireland. St Brigid, or Naomh Bríd in the Irish language (Gaelic), is a powerful historical figure who founded a famous monastery in Kildare, thirty miles west of Dublin. Bríd, regarded by many as a god, is one of Ireland’s three patron saints along with St. Patrick and St. Colmcille.

Imbolg and the god Bríd.

St Brigid’s day falls on the pre-Christian Irish festival of Imbolg (or Imbolc) – no coincidence I’m sure. Imbolg is one of the four ‘cross-quarter days’ (days that fall approximately half way between the solstice and equinox)  and often referred to in Irish mythology.  The others are Bealtaine, Lughnasadh and Samhain. In Ireland there is an almost seamless connection between the pre-Christian sacred places and festivals and the later Christian sites and holy days.  This is why many believe the god Bríd was Christianized as St Brigid when the Irish people peacefully adopted Christianity in the 5th century C.E.

People across the world will soon be celebrating St. Patrick, Ireland’s best known saint. Patrick was a contemporary of Bríd, they knew each other and there are accounts of their traveling together throughout Ireland. Interestingly both were intimately acquainted with slavery also: Patrick was forced into slavery as a boy and Bríd’s mother was a slave- though her father, a chieftain, raised her as a free person. Patrick, however, unlike Bríd, was not born and reared in Ireland. One wonders how much he learned from and relied on her wisdom, knowledge and influence in his work?  Today we need to recall and recognize Bríd’s unique contribution to Irish Spirituality and to humanity.

New greeting card series celebrating famous Irish women.

St Brigid’s illustration is part of a new greeting card series I’ve created celebrating famous Irish women or, feisty Irish women, as I like to call them. I hope there will come a day when people are as likely to receive a blessing and a card on St. Brigid’s day as they are on St. Patrick’s day.

In the meantime Lá Fhéile Bríde sona daoibh, Happy Saint Brigid’s Day.

Aislinn Adams

American Sweetgum, Liquidambar styraciflua, and Irish Fall Color?

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Sweetgum

© Aislinn Adams 1998

My first American Sweetgum, Liquidambar styraciflua.

The first time I saw an American sweetgum was in the National Botanic Gardens, Glasnevin, Dublin, Ireland. It was autumn and I was a first year horticulture student attending college there. Ireland is not known for its fall color but that sweetgum, growing on a small island in the “pond”, stopped me in my tracks; its glowing orange-red-purple leaves took my breath away. Such a marvelous display would have done New England proud.

I know there’s a whole series of chemical reactions, triggered by temperature and day length, which make leaves turn the colors they do but seeing that sweetgum made me wonder – if Ireland had more N. American native trees like sweetgum would we have better fall color too?

An American native plant.

Sweetgum is native to the eastern U.S.A. but can be found growing in many parts of the country, including on my own street here in Salem, Oregon. It is not popular with many of my neighbors because its shallow roots push up through the concrete pavement causing large cracks. Even though several neighbors have replaced the sweetgums with smaller, more sidewalk-friendly species, there are still enough on the street to give a striking autumnal show- one I look forward to every year.

Ireland can have good Fall color too.

The botanical watercolor illustration above is part of a series I created for Birr Castle Visitor’s Center in Ireland (and part of my botanical watercolor greeting card series.) I worked on these botanical illustrations while staying in Washington D.C. and was happy to use sweetgum plant specimens from my D.C. neighborhood. I have visited Birr Castle demesne many times (I grew up about 20 miles from Birr) but I don’t recall seeing sweetgum growing there. I have no idea how good the Birr sweetgum looks in an Irish Fall but decided to paint it with good fall color anyway as I like to believe that it too can give as good a show as any of the trees here in the U.S.A. After all, the National Botanic Gardens’ sweetgum looked great.

Aislinn Adams

Inspiring Women Through Art.

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© Aislinn Adams           When Sleeping Women Awake

Every accident has a silver lining.

Many years ago I fell while rock climbing at my local crag in Dublin, Ireland. I broke my ankle and spent nine weeks in a large, heavy cast, from upper calf to toe tips. I broke the talus bone- the second rarest bone in the body to break- and difficult to heal. I was warned that on no account should I put any weight on the leg. The orthopedic surgeon, well known for his poor bedside manner, left me in no doubt that if the bone didn’t heal I would have a permanent limp. I hopped out of his surgery on my new crutches stifling a sob and vowing to do everything possible to help my ankle heel.

A forced vacation.

At the time I was a free-lance graphic designer living in a second floor apartment with no elevator. This was in the ‘old days’ before email and websites. I had no option but to take a forced vacation. I rested my broken ankle, elevating it as much as possible until the swelling eased. I had been free-lancing for a few years at that stage and had never really taken any vacation: as a self-employed person if I didn’t work I didn’t get paid. I worried a little about the loss of income but I had some money set aside and I knew that no amount of money could compensate for a permanent limp.

“When sleeping women awake, mountains will move”.

One day during my ‘convalescence’ I visited some female friends. Several of them were women religious from a prominent Catholic religious order in Ireland. I enjoyed the spirited, intelligent conversation darting back and forth across the table as we drank tea. They were highly competent women, leaders in their communities. We discussed an article one of them had read. She shared this quote from the article, “When sleeping women awake, mountains will move”. We all responded enthusiastically to the inspirational quotation. The irony of the situation was not lost on me as I sat there with my climbing injury, unable to get near a mountain.

A dream-like image came to mind.

One of my friends turned to me saying I should create an illustration to go with the quote. Usually my imagination doesn’t work that way. I don’t just come up with an image to order. I have to let the idea or feeling sink in. Not this time. Almost instantly a dream-like image came to mind. When I went home that evening I started working on it. I chose a pen and ink cross-hatching style to create the desired affect.  I used my finest rapidograph, handling it carefully, its ridiculously narrow-gauge hollow ‘nib’ only letting the ink flow when held lightly and delicately above the paper. The work took me hours and hours. I didn’t care. I was totally engrossed. With time the mountain range of women moved from my imagination onto paper and to this day that illustration strikes a chord with so many women. What a gift that fall turned out to be.

Eventually my ankle healed and, after a lot of physical therapy, I went back to climbing. I had no limp and a new portfolio of illustrations.

Aislinn Adams

The Common Fig, Ficus carica, the First Cultivated Plant.

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The story of the common fig, Ficus carica,  needs more than one blog.

I started writing about the common fig in my last blog- The common fig, Ficus carica, Fruit, Flower or Carnivore? As I uncovered its story I realized that it would take more than one blog to share its long and complex history.  I illustrated the common fig, Ficus carica, several times for the “Digging In” gardening column of the Washington Post. This week I post a botanical illustration of Ficus carica “Negronne” to illustrate this entry. This natural dwarf variety can be grown in containers and is particularly suited to the Pacific North West, where I live.

The common fig, Ficus carica, and the first farmers.

It seems everything I read currently brings me back to the first farmers. Recently while reading about the Burren region in the west of Ireland I learned how the first farmers impacted that environment, using only a simple axe as their main tool. Then, while researching the common fig, Ficus carica, for this blog, I discovered that it was probably the first plant cultivated by humans: predating the Neolithic farmers’ “eight founder crops” -einkorn wheat, emmer wheat, lentils, chickpeas, barley, flax, bitter vetch, and peas, Wikipedia– by many centuries.

Neolithic Farmers.

The Neolithic period (starting c. 9500 BCE) marks the beginning of farming and the common fig comes from the region where farming began, the Middle East. Common fig subfossils found in the Neolithic village of Gilgal 1, 13 Kilometers north of Jericho (present day West Bank,) date from 9400-9200 BCE.

Parthenocarpic figs and human selection.

This first fig crop was a parthenocarpic type i.e. the fruit is produced without pollination (see my last blog for more on this subject.) This means that these fig plants were “cultivars” i.e. plants selected and propagated from cuttings by humans rather than grown from seed. We have been growing and eating figs, as well as introducing them to different parts of the world, for over 12,000 years. Parthenocarpic varieties helped this spread because they don’t need a local insect to pollinate the plants in order to produce fruit.

How much do I know about the food I eat?

Reading about the common fig makes me realize how little I know about the food I eat. I’m not talking about which farm my food comes from, whether it is organic or conventional, what variety it is, or how far it has traveled to reach the grocery shop’s shelf. Rather, I am talking about food’s cultural history. I wonder what it means that we have been eating figs since the end of the last ice age? What a long human-plant relationship this is. Have we co-evolved together?

Plant or human selection?

In my last blog I also wrote about the high nutritional value of figs, especially in relation to our human needs. Is this just a happy coincidence? Science may explain the selection and success of figs as a food crop through a mixture of human interference and natural selection but I wonder if those first farmers choose the fig knowing how nutritional it was to eat or just because it tasted good? Or, could it be, as Michael Pollan suggests in his book The Botany of Desire, that the common fig chose us to guarantee its survival?

Agriculture- from Neolithic times to today.

Agriculture has come a long way since Neolithic times. The highly intensive form that we now practice, with its heavy dependence on chemicals, limited selection of crops grown in vast monocultures and enormous use of fossil fuels and other natural resources to produce the crops, is a far cry from those early days. I imagine those first farmers, mostly women undoubtedly, scratching their heads in amazement. Learning about the common fig’s story raises my awareness of our dependence on nature to sustain us: the long and critical relationship we humans have with the plant kingdom- the source of most of our food- and the role this small fruit has played.

Aislinn Adams

The Common Fig, Ficus carica, Fruit, Flower or Carnivore?

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The Common Fig, Ficus carica, unwelcome bounty!

I originally started writing about the common fig, Ficus carica, because of my annual battle with it. Our neighbor’s fig tree leans over the fence onto our yard and rains its bounty of figs onto our vegetable garden every year.  Unfortunately, neither I nor my husband or daughter eat figs. I find them too sweet, preferring fruit with a more tangy taste. Every year I spend hours cleaning up semi-rotten figs after they have smashed their way through our tomato plants before embedding themselves, like small, sticky bombs, into the mulched paths. Then the clouds of fruit flies follow. It is not one of my favorite gardening moments in the year.

Coming to terms with the common fig.

Even though I don’t like to eat figs I do feel guilty that I am allowing this food source to go to waste. I ask friends and neighbors to come and pick but to date no one has taken me up on the offer. In an effort to come to terms with this dilemma I started researching the common fig. Maybe knowing more about the plant would help me change my attitude and even motivate me to eat some of them or make more of an effort to pass them on to others at least.

I have illustrated the common fig several times for the Digging In gardening column of the Washington Post. Both times I used my neighbor’s tree for reference. I love drawing botanical illustrations, regardless of the subject, especially when I can use a live specimen, and there is no shortage of live specimens of fig in my garden!! I feel I owe this tree something seeing as it has helped me out in the past.

The common fig, a fascinating story.

Once again I start researching a plant and find myself drawn into a long and intriguing story that brings me all the way back to Neolithic times and the first farmers. By coincidence I am reading a book at the moment that has spurred on my research- The Fruit Hunters, A Story of  Nature, Adventure, Commerce and Obsession. This book by Adam Leith Gollner is a great read and even if you have only the slimmest interest in plants you will find it full of great stories to edify and entertain.

Too good a story for just one blog entry.

The story of the common fig, Ficus carica, is a complex and multi-faceted one that merits a book or indeed a series of books. There are two aspects of the fig’s story that have delighted me and sent my imagination into over-drive.

1. The reproductive cycle of the fig and its pollination strategies.

2. The first farmers (Neolithic) who domesticated the fig.

For this reason I’m writing two blogs on the subject starting with the reproductive cycle of the fig and its pollination story.

A fruit that is not a fruit!

I should write ‘false fruit’ or ‘multiple fruit’ when referring to the fig because what we eat is in fact the flower or inflorescence (an arrangement of multiple flowers.) The fig ‘fruit’ is a flower turned inside out: its juicy, red interior made up of lots of individual flowers and seeds growing together. The pollinator, a small female fig wasp that depends totally on the fig for its life cycle, must enter through a small opening in the fig, loosing her antennae and wings en route, to lay her eggs on the female fig flowers.

Fig tree pollination-well, sometimes?

Before all you fig lovers start spitting out your figs let me reassure you. Figs have several ways of producing fruits and most of the varieties in our gardens (Adriatic, Black Mission, Brown Turkey, Brunswick, and Celeste) are self-fertilized i.e. parthenocarpically. This means that they do not need pollination to produce their fruit.

Carnivorous figs?

The fig varieties that are pollinated by female wasps (e.g. Calimyrna, Marabout, and Zidi) consume the wasp after she has done her job laying her eggs and pollinating the flowers (Does this make the fig a carnivore?) When these eggs mature into female and male wasps the males (who are wingless) mate with the females and chew a tunnel through the fruit creating an opening through which the female wasps can escape. This suggests to me that the wasps may have left the fruit to find new fruits to pollinate before the fig is eaten but one account I read said that we eat the wasp’s eggs with the fruit- extra protein for us all?

Great nutrition- keep eating your figs.

I hope my account of the coevolution of the fig and fig wasp and their symbiotic relationship doesn’t put all you fig lovers off your figs, but rather fills you with the wonder and awe that nature continues to inspire in me? Who needs science fiction when we have nature all around us. I do eat dried figs and now that I’ve learned what a nutritious food it is, I plan to eat more. According to Wikipedia, figs are one of the highest plant sources of calcium and fiber and USDA research on the Mission variety found that dried figs are richest in fiber, copper, manganese, magnesium, potassium, calcium and vitamin K, relative to human needs. They also contain many antioxidants.  So keep eating your figs and maybe I’ll figure out a way to dry some of my neighbor’s next year.

Aislinn Adams