In Search Of The Folklore Of St. Johnswort

St. Johnswort of course is known as an antidepressant and has many other medicinal uses. It has also been believed to hold magical powers through the centuries such as foretelling one's longevity, conjuring up evil spirits or protecting one from evil spirits.

But the legend I wanted to pursue was that of the plant's sap on the day of St. John's beheading. The way I originally heard it, the sap of St. Johnswort would turn red on that day, which is usually observed on August 29. Many years ago I checked and found that the sap was actually sort of red, which fueled my curiosity. This year I promised myself I'd try again as we got close to August 29.

I went out to the ditch along the county road to check for myself and was amazed at the abundance of colorful wildflowers. In this photo alone, I see Goldenrod, Butter-and-Eggs, Orpine (our wild Sedum) and Deptford Pinks. Of course there are many other plants without flowers too:

 Another angle, showing Queen Anne's Lace, Opine, Goldenrod, Deptford Pink and Butter-and-Eggs:

 It was all fascinating and photogenic, but I was after St. Johnswort, and I knew there was some nearby:

 I found a plant and broke off a stem. Alas, I couldn't find any sap at all. Perhaps our drought had left the interior of the plants low on sap this summer. I read one account saying that St. Johnswort sap turns red when it contacts air, which would explain my earlier experience, but of course that would only work when the plant has enough sap to ooze out:

 I went out again later, this time to the far south field fence line. It was filled with Joe-Pye-Weed and Jewelweed, another wildflower rich in folklore:

.
 There is an orange flowered species and a yellow flowered species. Mine appeared to be a hybrid. I know that's possible, but I wonder if it's likely:

 The fence line was also abloom with Blue Vervain;

 But again, I was there to check the sap of St. Johnswort. I found another plant and broke the stem in search of sap. Again I couldn't find any, not even a micro-drop. Perhaps the next time I check, it will have to be in June, when St. John's birth is celebrated. Maybe they'll have more sap then. So I never got proof or disproof of the legend, but I did enjoy being outdoors on a beautiful August afternoon:

Making Hay While The Sun Shines

One day I discovered two tractors in my north field, one of them with a tedder for turning over the hay to dry in the sun:

My neighbor was cutting the field in sections with one tractor, leaving it in windrows to dry. Periodically he used the tractor with the tedder to help it dry:

He was busy mowing more of the field with the second tractor:

The hay looked good, almost all grass and clover. I was sure glad I'd sprayed and bush hogged the weeds in June and July:

The Red Clover was in bloom and seemed even more colorful than usual:

I took my share of the first full wagon of hay bales and he drove off with the rest. Last year he sold the hay but this year he has more cattle of his own to feed:

And to prove it really is autumn, the New England Asters began blooming amid the Goldenrod:

And our wild Sedum, called Orpine, continued to bloom but turned a darker pink, almost purple:

My Tree Hydrangea, which had been blooming for a long time, began to develop a reddish tint as its flower clusters prepared to end their display for the season:

"And what is this mess of a weed patch?," you may ask. It's one of the two patches where I planted 12 Globe Thistles this year. They looked so much like Dandelions that I decided to not weed them anymore and hope they'll sort themselves out next spring. I certainly don't want to be pulling up my newly planted Globe Thistles:

The red Rose Mallows were the second ones to bloom, and they added depth to the spectacular display in front of my house:

Around The Farm

Along a country road I observed this tableau: Jewelweed, Purple Loosestrife, Queen Anne's Lace and Sundrops, the day blooming version of Evening Primrose. Behind them is a corn field:

Although the dawns are getting later each day, I still often get to see these glorious skies:

I was surprised to find these calyx (sepals) reminders of June's flowering bonanza on the Mock Orange bush. I had not noticed them before. They are not as showy as the actual flowers, but lovely nonetheless:

The aptly named Butter-And-Eggs:

And my own little patch of Orpine, a wild Sedum. Those are windfall apples in the grass at their feet:

The baby fantail pigeon who had been so badly picked on is almost an adult now, and her injured head is nearly healed. I sometimes find it difficult to pick her out when I enter their room now:

The pear tree has resisted whatever disease struck the apple trees, and the fruit is getting bigger each day:

The only two trees which produced apples are the two alongside the road, away from all the others:

And though their fruit is smaller than usual and falling earlier, they certainly produced a lot of them. I fed them to the cattle a few times but then stopped because I want my cows (and horses) to lose weight:

The little bantam hens are down to only 3 or 4 eggs per day, but they are still pretty to look at and tasty to eat:

I discovered another baby fantail pigeon, this one strong and healthy (and not being picked on). I'm guessing it was ten days old when I discovered it and snapped this photo. They do look like they are related to dinosaurs:

The adult birds mob the water fountain every time I refresh it. I don't know if they are just curious or looking for fresher water (they rake shavings and dried poop into it during the day). They also probably would love a bath and I haven't provided one lately. It's time I did so:

Roadside Wildflowers

I've had enough free time this summer to get to know more of the wild plants with which I share this part of the planet. Here's some of my more recent photos and what I learned about them. This plant, obviously in the mint family (square stems, opposite leaves, tube shaped flowers with upper and lower lips), but I've never found it in my field manual or online. This year, however, I really, really searched and finally found it in the "Pink or Red Flowers" section. I'd previously only looked in the "Blue and Purple Flowers" section because that's what they look like to me. It is called Motherwort and probably originated in Europe and southern Asia. Now, however, it is considered invasive, though the bees sure like it.

I've previously photographed the minuscule Least Hop Clover, but this one, growing by my barn door, was bigger and I assumed it was (regular) Hop Clover. When I looked it up, though, I learned that it wasn't big enough and was therefore Smaller Hop Clover. It's nice to know there are bright yellow clovers:

A favorite of mine, Ladys-Thumb Smartweed:

Another common mint which I've never been able to identify before. This time, however, I tracked it down and decided it was Hemp-Nettle":

Springing up all around my house and barn are these Smooth Hawksbeard flowers. These only get to about 12" although taller, related species along many roadsides grow to over three feet tall:

Another of my favorites, Jewelweed, has begun blooming in wet places. The sap of Jewelweed plants is soothing for Poison Ivy, Nettles and bee sting irritations. I'm sensitive to Stinging Nettles and luckily, they tend to grow together in wet soil. Jewelweed's leaves shine like silver foil when submerged in water. If you scratch off the seed coat, Jewelweed's seeds are a bright blue color and, I've read, White-Footed Mice feeding on them develop blue bellies. Also called Touch-Me-Not, their ripe seed pods explode when touched, scattering their seeds up to six feet away and leaving tightly curled shreds of pod:

You've no doubt seen this plant all over waste areas where not much else will grow. Its seed pods turn dark brown when ripe and cling to the stalk. We used to think they looked like coffee grounds when we were kids and would strip them off the stalk and pretend we were going to make coffee. Apparently the tender young leaves are edible for humans, but cattle, sheep and chickens find the leaves and seeds toxic:

Queen Anne's Lace, of course, but surrounded by a Wild Cucumber Vine in full bloom:

A wildflower tableau: Northern Bedstraw, Butter-And-Eggs and Orpine:

I've seen Sedum plants growing along a drainage ditch in front of my house for years and assumed they had been planted by someone. This year I looked them up and discovered, to my surprise, that they are an alien wildflower which grows in some rather cold, northern locations:

Orpine looks for all the world like someone planted it here, and it looks even better with a bumblebee atop its bright pink flower head:

Goldenrod began blooming early in August and will continue right through autumn. There are over 60 species and I haven't even tried to learn them. I just enjoy their beauty, at least when they are not in my pastures:

One of the first flowers our mother taught us was Nightshade, a relative of potatoes, peppers and tomatoes. Our mother allowed a wild plant to grow in her flower garden just because we kids liked it so much: