Ox-eye daisies in a County Durham churchyard

 

St. Brandon’s, at Brancepeth, County Durham, is a shining example of the way in which an ancient churchyard can be managed for the benefit of people and native wild flowers. The south side of the churchyard is a wild flower meadow, with mown paths between 18th. and 19th. century memorial stones.

Throughout spring, drifts of snowdrops have been followed by daffodils and bluebells, then cowslips that last week ceded centre stage to thousands of waist-high ox-eye daisies Leucanthemum vulgare.

In The Englishman’s Flora (1960) botanist-author Geoffrey Grigson listed about 30 local, colloquial names for Leucanthemum vulgare; some familiar, like moon daisy, dog daisy and marguerite, others less so, like Billy buttons, crazy Bett, hayweed and poverty weed, that have fallen out of use.

You might expect that a plant known by so many names would have been part of the daily lives of past generations, used in herbal medicine.

According to John Pechey, in his The Compleat Herbal of Physical Plants (1694) it “cast forth Beams of Brightness” so just looking at it might do you good: a nature cure to boost mental wellbeing.

But there’s more: “The whole herb, stalks, leaves ad flowers, boyl’d in posset-drink, and drunk, I accounted an excellent remedy for an asthma, consumption and difficulty of breathing, “ he claimed.” ‘Tis very good in wounds and ulcers, taken inwardly, or outwardly applied,” he assured readers, and went on to mention a use that might have benefitted quaffers of too much chilled beer during the recent heatwave: “A decoction of the herb cures all diseases that are occasion’d by drinking cold beer when the body is hot.”

Pechey’s herbal is available to download or read on-line. Its full, less-than-snappy title is

The compleat herbal of physical plants : containing all such English and foreign herbs, shrubs and trees, as are used in physick and surgery : and to the vertues that are now in use, is added one receipt or more, of some learned physician : the doses or quantities of such as are prescribed by the Londond-physicians, and others, are proportioned : also directions for making compound-waters, syrups, simple and compound : electuaries, pills, powders, and other sorts of medicines : moreover, the gums, balsams, oils, juices, and the like, which are sold by apothecaries and druggists, are added to this herbal : and their virtues and sues are fully described

Bistort Polygonum bistorta: wild flower, food and herbal medicine

 

Bistort Polygonum bistorta, flowering in damp hollows in an old hay meadow at Wolsingham in Weardale, on a route that I often take on one of my local walks.

From a distance the pink flower spikes look like orchids, but this plant is a member of the much less charismatic dock family. It lacks orchids’ botanical celebrity status but has an interesting history in food and folk medicine.

I’ve never dug it up so can only take on trust accounts that say that its underground rhizome is often coiled like a snake, the source of its alternative colloquial names adderwort and snakeweed in Somerset, and its ancient use in treating snakebite.

In a less-lethal context, bistort has a long association with assisting pregnancy: ‘to help to conceyvve, make electuary of powdre of bistorte in quantyte of halfe a pounde …. and swete smellyngs spices of the same weyght’, wrote Peter Treveris in his Grete Herball of 1526.

There’s an early allusion to its healing powers woven into a fabulous early 16th. century French tapestry, The Unicorn in Captivity, now displayed in the Met in New York, where bistort sits against the right foreleg of the wounded mythical beast.

In a culinary context, it’s the key ingredient in the classic traditional Easter-ledge pudding of Cumbria, Lancashire and Yorkshire. Recipes vary, depending on location, but all require its leaves, harvested young at Easter-time, usually boiled with nettle tops, oat-meal and chopped onions, bound together with egg, made into patties and fried. Every spring the World Easter-ledge Pudding Championship is held at Mytholmroyd near Hebden Bridge in Calderdale.

Meadow saxifrage, hiding in plain sight

 

This very attractive little flower is meadow saxifrage Saxifraga granulata. It’s a species of meadows and pastures and it has been in continuous decline for decades, thanks to the ‘improvement’ of old grasslands with fertilisers and selective herbicides, which favour grasses and lead to a decline in wild flower diversity.

I had never seen meadow saxifrage until I moved to the north east, where many of the unimproved meadows still survive. There are a few in Teesdale where it grows in great profusion. It flowers in early spring, before many of its competitors hit their stride, but its season is short and it becomes harder to spot when other hay meadow wildflowers grow taller.

It tends to grow in dense groups in the grass because it produces clusters of tiny buds called bulbils (the granules that the specific name granulata refers to) when the flowers and foliage die down in July, so when they sprout next year a whole group of plants grow up where only one existed before. The bulbils are also carried around in mud on the feet of cattle, which unwittingly plant it in their footsteps.

I was delighted to find these plants at Wolsingham in Weardale last week, just a few miles from home, in a corner of a meadow I must have walked through hundreds of times over the last fifty years, without ever noticing them before.

There’s always something new to find, even in places you think you know like the back of your hand ……