This should surprise no one, but I’m not a plant person. When I was a kid my Grandma had her own little garden she kept in the front room of her house, all facing the sun. She loved them with water and good soil until they flourished everywhere. Sometimes when she would make breakfast, she’d send my sister and me outside to take a few stalks from the chive plant not far from her door, a large one that popped up next to a natural spring. We’d take a long drink from the spring then grab a handful of chives. Later they seasoned our eggs and potatoes, a staple breakfast dish for my Polish Grandmother.
As an adult, I’ve grown fond of other people who can figure out the whole plant thing. I’m still pretty hopeless at it, and have even purchased plastic greenery for the house (haven’t killed them...yet). There’s a single aloe plant tucked in the windowsill, one that my friend will check in on soon. It’s next to a shoot of bamboo that refuses to die as well.
So when I came across Flora's Interpreter, and Fortuna Flora, by Sarah Josepha Buell Hale, I was intrigued. The painted image of flowers on the front caught my attention, as did the name of the author; she was the editor for Godey's Lady's Book, a highly influential lady's writer in the 19th century. This is something my Grandma Dolly would have loved!
“We have moreover endeavored to unite real knowledge with this fanciful language the arrangement of each flower with its botanic as well as common name and also its class and order will be found of much utility by familiarizing or fixing these terms in the mind of the reader The locality of the plant too will enable those who desire the information to judge where any particular flower may best be cultivated whether in the garden or greenhouse.” (V)
The book goes on to describe the scientific parts of the plant, as well as their purpose and how they work together. I’m very green when it comes to plants (haha) but even I understood the language. I’m especially fond of the section about poisonous plants. One day this might be VERY useful, like if I get lost in the woods or start my own podcast where I solve cold cases from a hundred years ago...
But much like any 19th-century text geared towards women, I find myself with poetry and flowery language (haha again) all over the place. After all, we can’t just know the science; we should ponder the glory of a bay leaf in all its natural beauty.
And to be honest, that was mostly the rest of the book! I’m actually a fan of poetry, so I can read through it without falling asleep. I had a few favorites, specifically this one about Mount Vernon:
I can’t say I’ve ever thought about what it would mean to be a flower in a cemetery, much less one near a famous person. That’s an interesting perspective, an idea for a short story that is now blooming in my mind (OMG I need to stop). I wonder if a tree’s viewpoint would be different? More rooted in reality? (Alright I'm done...)
Finally, my favorite part of the book had to be the images. I've been playing around with watercolors lately, and while there aren't many pictures, there are still pretty. I highly recommend this book, even just for a short read. I can picture a group of ladies sitting around a garden reading it aloud as an activity, though I haven't done anything like that in a while!
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