Plant Lore. Old Wives' Tales or Old Men's?

To this day we follow many facets of garden lore and herbal remedies for the simple fact some things just plain work. So where do we draw the line in these 'old wives' tales'?  I am not about to discredit what your grandmother told you about gardening... believe you me!

What about our colonial ancestors?

Along with knowing what worked when using herbs and plants to treat illnesses, enhance meals, and wardrobes, success with garden plants relied on knowledge passed down and around.  What may seem like an old wives tale might just be based on some 'old husbands' as well.

John Gerard was the author of a huge tome of horticultural knowledge (published in 1597) called both THE HERBALL  and THE GENERAL HISTORY OF PLANTS. Granted much of the 1200 page book was taken from an earlier Dutch work by Rembert Doedens,  Gerard added to it with experience in his own English gardens. After Gerard's death, someone took on the task of updating it to a 1700 page resource which was the standard for plant knowledge throughout the 17th Century.

Another expert in the field was Nicholas Culpeper who was a physician expounding the benefits of herbs. He was a rebel in his time, angering the medical professionals and even being accused of encouraging witchcraft.  He created a herbal book for 'the masses' that they might be able to treat themselves rather than be subject to charlatan doctors who thought bloodletting would heal all.
Culpepper was one of the first 'battlefield surgeons' recorded during the English Civil War.
His book, The English Physician, was a radical resource!

Using experience, stories of herbal usage and garden lore gathered strength over the centuries. Some make sense today because they are truly based on plant needs and human physical needs. Some are just plain entertaining. What plant wisdom have you heard? What old tales valued in colonial times still hang around? Do you use any herbal remedies?

If a pregnant woman plants any type of plant, it will grow well.

Plant seeds of tuberous (plants that ripen underground) in the afternoon for best growth

Excessive activity in small animals and birds that lasts all day means bad weather is coming

The 12 days after Christmas predict the weather for the following 12 months.

(Likewise, rain on Easter Sunday means rain on the next seven Sundays)

Expect rain within 3 days if a half moon's tip  points down

If spring flowers bloom again in the fall, expect a 'sorrowful winter'.

Transplant flowers in the light of the moon.

Placing rusty nails around your plants will help them grow

Bury fish heads in with your roses

A rope around a garden will keep out snakes

As a horticulturalist, I know there's good reason why some things work, and I enjoy hearing about all those that don't. An entire series of posts could focus on the lore of herbal remedies and you can be there is good basis for their success. I'm fascinated with herbal remedies and love to study them. Kudos to these two 'fathers' of 'old wives tales' and the printers who put together these huge books which became the standard for planting and using plants for food and health.

As for the list above, I can tell you that I did have some spring flowers bloom again last fall and we certainly had a sorrowful winter! For colonial gardeners, I'm pretty sure the truth was - living from the land takes a lot of hard work and common sense. That hasn't changed a bit.

Cinchona and the Colonies

“What is it?” he asked weakly.

“It is called Peruvian bark, Mr. Lowe. It has been blended with wine to make it easier to ingest.”

             Excerpt from The Road to Deer Run

The character of Daniel Lowe in the above-mentioned book was fortunate that Widow Thomsen was familiar with effective medicinals. She knew that this drug—Peruvian bark or cinchona—would be an effective treatment for the terrible symptoms that malaria could cause.

The wonderful discovery of Peruvian bark was truly a Godsend to the American colonists. Otherwise known as cinchona, the bark of this South American tree contained quinine. When added to wine, the alcohol allowed the substance to leach into the drink, producing a medicine that would treat the fever and chills of malaria.

The marshy lowlands throughout the thirteen colonies, but especially in the South, were filled with malaria-carrying mosquitoes. With a quick and painful bite to humans, these insects could spread a parasite that caused the dreaded malaria. The mosquitos were no respecter of class, as both wealthy and poor suffered greatly from the fever, headache, and chills that returned on a regular basis to malaria victims. The only advantage that the wealthy had was their ability to purchase escape from the lowlands where the mosquitoes thrived during the worst of the summer months.

Although cold winters could kill off mosquitoes every year, the northern colonies were not exempt from the disease. There were outbreaks of malaria in Massachusetts in 1634, 1647, 1650, and 1668. In 1775, Congress allotted $300 for quinine to protect George Washington’s troops from malaria.

When Brigadier General John Glover escorted the British prisoners of war out of Saratoga, New York, in 1777, he suffered from a “mysterious illness,” which caused chills, headaches, dizziness, and nausea, followed by high fever. Although he took the medicinal quinine, these attacks—assumed to be malaria by a researcher—continued as new parasites continued to grow in his bloodstream.

Some of the thousands of British prisoners on this trek under Glover had already suffered as well from the mosquito-borne disease. Once you had malaria, it was usually your life-long, unwelcome companion.

The earliest journal accounts of the medicinal qualities of Peruvian bark date back to the late 1500’s. The use of the “fever tree” bark was introduced into European medicine by Jesuit missionaries who brought the cinchona compound back to Europe in the early 1600’s.

The name “cinchona” has its own unique history. In 1638, the Countess of Chinchon, wife of the Viceroy of Peru, was suffering from waves of fever and chills that threatened her life. In the Viceroyalty of Peru, the court physician was summoned to treat her but all his efforts failed. He decided to administer medicine that he had obtained from the local Quechua Indians, who had been using the bark of this tree to treat similar symptoms. The Countess survived and legend says that she brought the cinchona bark back with her to Europe in the 1640’s.

Rawhide bag for cinchona bark, brought from Peru in 1777

The story was so well known that in 1742, botanist and physician Carl Linnaeus decided to name the tree “cinchona.” Linnaeus held the belief that every plant should have a name.

In order to be prepared for medicinal use, the bark of the cinchona tree is stripped off, dried, and powdered before being added to wine. The bark is also called Jesuit’s bark or Peruvian bark. As with many herbs that were used in colonial times, excessive doses could prove deadly.

(Above photo of bag used by permission of the London Science Museum, Science & Society Picture Library) Click on "permission" to view site.