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

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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

 

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

Hedge bindweed, Calystegia sepium, teaches a hard lesson in humility and patience.

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Hedge bindweed, Calystegia sepium © Aislinn Adams 2009

A new greeting card.

This week I post another botanical illustration from my Washington Post ‘Digging In’ gardening column days and the subject of my latest greeting card design- part of my Botanical Illustration Series #1. In this series I combine my illustrations with favorite quotations. For this card I’ve chosen the quote:

“Many things grow in the garden that were never sown there.” Thomas Fuller (1654-1734)

When I read this quote I think optimistically of all the serendipitous plants that turn up in the garden. Often I have bought a plant from my local nursery only to find another species has hitched a ride in the pot. I have acquired some interesting specimens this way: a happy and welcome accident.

Hedge bindweed, Calystegia sepium, not a ‘happy accident’.

This week’s blog subject is definitely not one of those ‘happy accidents’, rather the opposite. Hedge bindweed, Calystegia sepium– formerly known as Convolvulus sepium– is a troublesome weed by anyone’s standards.  This vine twines counterclockwise around plants, often overwhelming them. It is also a well-traveled weed as it can be found throughout the temperate regions of both the northern and southern hemispheres. Calystegia means “covered calyx” while the older name, Convolvulus, means “to entwine” -a name that says it all.

Why do I celebrate this plant in a blog and as a greeting card?

When Thomas Fuller wrote this quote in the 18th century I doubt he was thinking of this troublesome plant. So why do I choose to celebrate this plant not only in a blog but also as a new greeting card? The answer is not that easy to explain.

© 2010  Aislinn Adams

I like my botanical illustration of hedge bindweed in spite of the actual plant’s bad behavior. But this is not the main reason I’ve created this card. The truth is that while working on this design I also battle with the plant in the wildlife garden or ‘naturescape’ (natural landscape) at my daughter’s elementary school. For three years I’ve worked hard to create this naturescape and I don’t want to loose it to this fast-growing plant.

Hedge bindweed- a difficult weed.

In my experience this weed, while not an ‘invasive exotic’, is one of the most difficult to remove from a garden, almost impossible in fact. At the moment it is succeeding quite easily in taking over a large area of the naturescape. Last spring I organized a group of energetic volunteers to pull the weed but within a few weeks it was back again: fresh spring-green shoots pushing through thick hogfuel bark mulch.

I have wasted a lot of time worrying about this plant, wondering how I can get rid of it, imagining it taking over the whole naturescape- kudzu-style.  Maybe by creating this card I hope to weaken the spell this plant has cast over the naturescape- and my mind. Maybe by combining this botanical illustration with a thought provoking quotation I can view it from a different perspective and maybe by thinking more philosophically about this plant I can lessen its power.

My ‘Coyote plant’?

This is my ‘coyote plant’. You know Coyote the Trickster of Native American fame. It teaches me that all my efforts to create the perfect naturescape with lots of well-behaved native plants -not always the case of course- is foolishness on my part. I can’t control nature, even this small area on the south side of my daughter’s school.

Grudgingly I learn that I have to respect this plant: its tenacity to keep growing in spite of all my efforts to eradicate it, and to admit that it too has certain qualities that could be called beautiful. But I will keep pulling it and as soon as school starts again next month I will organize another volunteer day of weeding. In the meantime I will reflect on this quotation and learn to live and let live- for the moment anyway!

Aislinn Adams

Botanical Illustration of Kalmia latifolia, Mountain Laurel.

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Mountain Laurel

Botanical illustration of the beautiful Kalmia latifolia, mountain laurel.

One of the many botanical illustrations I drew in my first year for the “Digging In” gardening column of the Washington Post was Kalmia latifolia or mountain laurel. In the ten years of botanical illustration for the newspaper I drew this flowering native shrub twice.  I like this native plant so much that I chose my more recent illustration of it as the subject for one of my greeting cards in my botanical illustration series #1, created from my Washington Post work.

 

My first time seeing this lovely native shrub in flower.

I didn’t think about the other Kalmia latifolia illustration from that first year until recently. A friend, while admiring my botanical illustration greeting card series, told me that Kalmia latifolia was her favorite plant. Her remark made me think back to the first time I saw it flowering. It was on the side of the road in rural Carroll County, Maryland.

 

Mountain laurel is a favorite plant for many.

My friend is not alone in her choice of favorite plant. Michael A. Dirr in his “Manual of Woody Landscape Plants” describes Kalmia latifolia’s flower as the “most beautiful flower I know…. especially as the buds are opening”. The unique, “intricate beauty” (Dirr) of the mountain laurel flower buds remind me of ornamental icing on a traditional wedding cake; rows of tiny, perfectly formed dollops ending in minute peaks. The Kalmia latifolia flower buds- often dark pink on the outside opening up into pale pink flowers- are so perfectly formed they look almost unnatural.

Flowers with an ingenious strategy for pollination.

 

I took my time preparing those botanical illustrations.  Not only the buds, but the flowers too, are challenging to draw-and just as beautiful. The ten stamens of each flower curve into little pockets in each petal- spring-loaded if you will. When the pollen is ripe the slightest touch of a visiting insect will cause the bent stamen to spring forward showering pollen into the air. What an ingenious strategy to aid pollination. I often wonder what the insect “thinks” when the stamen filament is suddenly released slapping it in the eye or anther? Maybe after the surprise of the first time the insect grows to expect it and enjoy it even. I certainly enjoy the challenge of drawing such intricate botanical illustrations.

Aislinn Adams