On this day in 1469, William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and his brother were executed. Both had been captured the previous day after the battle of Edgecote Moor, fighting for King Edward IV against his former friend and ally, the Earl of Warwick.
William Herbert and his wife, Anne Devereaux, kneeling before the king. (British Library)
William Herbert started his military career in France, defending the lands of the Lancastrian king, Henry VI of England. He gained significant experience during his time there until his capture at the Battle of Formigny in 1450, after which he was ransomed and returned home to the Welsh Marches. There he formed alliances with both the Duke of York and Richard Neville, the Earl of Warwick. Herbert was one of the men who found himself cultivating relationships with both Lancastrian lords and Yorkist ones during this period, which undoubtedly led to conflicts of conscience down the road.
Ultimately siding with the Yorks paid off for Herbert, as after Edward IV ascended to the throne, he was ennobled and eventually entrusted with the command of the Welsh forces protecting the Yorkist interests. In 1468, Harlech Castle surrendered to Herbert, and Edward IV rewarded him with the title of Earl of Pembroke, which had until recently belonged to the staunch Lancastrian, Jasper Tudor. Herbert also gained the wardship of Jasper’s nephew, the future Henry VII.
Favor with King Edward threatened Herbert’s other alliances, however. The Earl of Warwick, also known as the Kingmaker for his efforts to put the dukes of York on the English throne, took exception to the preference Edward showed to Herbert, who had previously been in Warwick’s service. Warwick also targeted the family of Edward’s queen, Elizabeth Woodville, whom he resented for their influence with the king. By 1469, Warwick had lost patience with the king and was ready to take matters into his own hands.
In July 1469, Warwick married his eldest daughter to Edward’s younger brother George, Duke of Clarence, without the king’s permission. Just days after the wedding, Warwick and Clarence invaded England with the intention of deposing Edward and setting up Clarence and Isabelle on the throne. Edward, initially not believing that his cousin and oldest friend was truly taking up arms against him, bid Warwick and his brother come to him for a meeting. Upon realizing that this was no mere disagreement to be solved with gentle words, Edward armed and rode out to confront the earl.
Herbert’s Welsh forces marched to meet the king’s near Edgecote Moor. Herbert even brought along his ward, Henry Tudor, to give the young nobleman an education in the art of war. Battle broke out with Warwick’s troops on July 26, and Edward’s army was defeated. Herbert and his brother, Richard, were captured and taken to Warwick at Northampton the next day. On July 27th, the two Herberts were beheaded.
King Henry VI’s English forces, led by John Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, were defeated by the French at the battle of Castillon in Gascony. Neither side realized it at the time, but this encounter would come to be known as the final battle of the Hundred Years’ War.
The term ‘Hundred Years’ War’ came about in the 19th century to describe the period of intermittent warfare between the French and English that lasted over a hundred years, from the 1340s to 1453. The causes of this conflict are many and varied, and as several excellent books already address the topic in detail, we will boil it down to the barest bones here.
Edward III‘s effigy, Westminster Abbey
In 1328, Charles IV of France, the last king of the Capetian dynasty, died childless. In the ensuing contention and disagreement about who should be his successor, several of Charles’ relatives staked their claims to the empty throne. One of these claimants was Edward III of England, whose mother Isabella of France was Charles’ only surviving sibling. Ultimately, the French crown was awarded to Philip of Valois, the dead king’s first cousin.
This turn of events didn’t sit well with Edward, who viewed himself as Charles IV’s closest living kin. Old grudges die hard, especially when a crown is at stake, so Edward’s successors clung fast to the title of King of France for generations. As a result, the next century saw a series of intermittent battles and campaigns as the English kings made attempts to reassert their claim to the French throne and its territories.
Territorial Tug-of-War
As one might expect in a war that wore on for so long, the advantage teetered back and forth throughout the decades. In the 1420s, the Duke of Bedford made significant gains in securing English territory for his nephew, King Henry VI, only to see the French surge back following the inspiring leadership of Joan of Arc. By the final years of what the English people knew as the French wars, Henry’s finances were sorely stretched, his subjects were weary of seeing their hard-won territories gradually retaken by the French, and his leading nobles were quarreling and causing deep divides amongst their followers.
Henry VI of England
In the fall of 1452, his confidence buoyed up by increased successes at home and ready to make a definitive show of might on the Continent, Henry VI named John Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, as his deputy in France. Henry didn’t exactly go down in military history as a sterling commander, but his choice of Talbot for this final mission was well-founded.
The ‘Terror of the French’
John Talbot earned an early reputation as a competent and decisive military commander, serving early on in the Welsh rebellion of Owain Glyndwr and subsequently in Ireland. Later, he served in the French wars with the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Warwick, including at the 1428-9 siege of Orleans, where Joan of Arc’s forces turned the tide of the war in favor of the French. His signature aggressiveness and successful techniques earned him sobriquets such as ‘the English Achilles’ and ‘the terror of the French.’
John Talbot, kneeling, presenting a book to Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou
Talbot was taken prisoner after the Battle of Patay on June 18, 1429. He was eventually ransomed after four years of imprisonment, then continued to support Henry VI militarily both in France and at home in England. Two decades later, Talbot found himself in French hands once again following the English loss of the city of Rouen in 1449, this time as a hostage to ensure that the Duke of Somerset handed over both the city and six key castles per the terms of the peace agreement. Some sources state that as a term of his release, Talbot promised to never again take up arms against the French king. (As poignant as this story is, I have been unable to verify any primary sources that support it as of the time of this writing; I will update once I have confirmation one way or the other.)
Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, negotiating with French envoys at Rouen
Regaining the Upper Hand
Charles VII of France
Despite setbacks caused by the failures by his quarreling dukes, Henry VI’s faith in Talbot as a commander remained strong. He appointed Talbot as his deputy in France in early September 1452, and by late October Talbot’s forces had retaken the city of Bordeaux and were on their way to reclaiming dozens of towns and garrisons in Gascony. It looked as though England was turning the tide in its favor at last.
The French king, Charles VII, took the winter of 1452-3 to regroup, and by the summer of 1453 his troops had invaded Guyenne. On July 8, they laid siege to Castillon, east of Bordeaux. Talbot’s forces were bolstered by new troops brought that spring by his son, Viscount Lisle, and he set out to relieve the garrison at Castillon on July 16.
Fateful Decisions
Talbot’s signature decisive actions served him well early in the day on July 17, as his troops easily defeated a small contingent of French archers they discovered near Castillon. His luck soon changed, however. Perhaps emboldened by this early victory, or tricked into thinking that a cloud of dust raised by retreating camp followers in advance of the battle instead signaled the flight of enemy troops from the siege, Talbot decided to attack the main French camp without waiting for the reinforcements he expected to arrive soon.
Instead of marching into an easy victory, the English troops collided with the full strength of the French army. Talbot pushed his men on, despite the unanticipated adversary and the lack of reinforcements, only to be defeated by French artillery. John Talbot was killed during the battle, though the exact circumstances of his death are debated. His son, Lord Lisle, also died that day.
Painting of the Battle of Castillon, Charles-Philippe Lariviere
Aftermath and Aftershocks
What had seemed to many as a revival of English dominance in France ended instead as the last gasps of a dying claim. Realizing the desperation of their situation, the citizens of Castillon surrendered to the French the next day, and by late October of that year, Bordeaux had also capitulated.
The shock at home in England was intense as well. Henry VI himself was an unexpected casualty of the final battle of the Hundred Years’ War. Upon hearing of England’s devastating defeat, he lapsed into a catatonic state that left him ineffectual as a ruler and spurred the discord that resulted in the Wars of the Roses.
No official peace treaty was ever signed, but after the loss of Gascony, the English became painfully aware that any further military advance into France was a minor priority compared to establishing peace at home. Hostilities ceased, and Calais remained the sole remaining vestige of English power in France for another hundred years.
Sources and Further Reading
Johnson, L. (2019). Shadow king: the life and death of Henry Vi. Head of Zeus.
History.com Editors. (2009, November 9). Hundred Years’ War. History.com. https://www.history.com/topics/middle-ages/hundred-years-war. Access date: July 17, 2021.
Wikimedia Foundation. (2021, July 17). John Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury. Wikipedia. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Talbot,_1st_Earl_of_Shrewsbury. Access date: July 17, 2021.
In my previous post, we took a brief historical wander down the path that led England from the Norman Conquest in 1066 to the coronation of Henry II, the first Plantagenet king, in 1154. Quite an exciting story, which I hope also gives a glimpse into my fascination with this dynasty!
This week, let’s take a quick look at why the family became known as the Plantagenets. Henry II may have owed his claim to the English throne to his mother’s Anglo-Norman heritage, but the dynasty he founded inherited its unique name from his father, Geoffrey of Anjou.
Geoffrey, Angevin Count
Geoffrey was born on August 24, 1113, the oldest son of Fulk V, Count of Anjou and Ermengarde, Countess of Maine. He would have been brought up learning all the political and martial skills necessary to take over his father’s county, and by the time he was in his early teens, his reputed skill and potential came to the attention of many, including King Henry I of England.
In 1128, aged 15 and recently knighted, Geoffrey married Matilda, now the sole legitimate heir of the English king. Matilda was eleven years his senior and already a widow; in fact, she retained her of Empress title from her first marriage for the rest of her life. Just a year following their marriage, Geoffrey’s father relinquished his title as Count in order to become the King of Jerusalem, so his son took up the reins as Count Geoffrey V of Anjou.
Enamel plaque from the tomb of Geoffrey of Anjou
From Nickname to Family Name…Eventually
The traditional story says that Geoffrey had a habit of adorning his hat with a sprig of planta genista, a yellow flowering plant more usually known as ‘common broom,’ which earned him the nickname Plantagenet (or at least a similar variation). It paints a lovely and rather romantic picture, doesn’t it?
As with many such old tales, however, several aspects of this origin story are still debated. First, some historians raise the possibility that the name refers not to the literal broom plant, but instead to the idea of the Angevin house being a new ‘shoot’ or offspring, growing from other well-established European houses. Second, no evidence has been found yet proving that ‘Plantagenet’ was used as an actual family name by any of its living members until Richard, Duke of York, when he attempted to strengthen his claim to the throne in the 15th century by adopting the Plantagenet surname.
Stained glass depicting Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York St. Laurence’s Church, Ludlow, England
Whatever the truth of the association, the name has stuck as the recognizable label for the dynasty that ruled England for over 300 years. Let’s take a quick peek at the broom plant, which still thrives nearly a millennium after Geoffrey adopted the Plantagenet name for his ducal house.
Common Broom
Known today as Cytisus scoparius, common broom is considered an invasive species in areas of the US and Canada, and as such it is purposefully controlled. It has a long history as a medicinal plant, though like many others, its modern use is discouraged unless under the direction of an expert practitioner due to its potential toxicity and the existence of more reliable and safer alternative treatments.
Mrs. M. Grieve referenced the usage of broom for medicinal purposes dating as far back as Anglo-Saxon times, including its use by Welsh doctors in the early medieval period and its presence in English pharmaceutical texts in later centuries, including her own early 20th. It was taken internally to assist with cardiac issues or with those impacting the gastrointestinal system, as the plant was known to have cathartic and diuretic effects.
Its dangerous potential was also well known, and Mrs. Grieve warned that large doses could impart significant harm to the heart and respiratory organs, including the potential for lethal damage. She also cautioned that common broom can be easily confused with its more dangerous cousin, Spanish broom (Spartium junceum), leading to cases of accidental poisoning.
Considering those risks, I’d say common broom is better left to be appreciated for its visual and historical interest!
Plant, J. S. (2010). Understanding The Royal Name Plantagenet. Journal of One-Name Studies, 10(8), 14–15. https://one-name.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/journal/vol10-8.pdf.
On this day in 1189, King Henry II of England died at Chinon Castle. Henry was the very first Plantagenet king of England, and though his eventful life could be the subject of many posts (ooh, foreshadowing!), today we’re focusing on how he led a new dynasty to the throne.
Before we dive in, though, a note: you’re going to see the name Henry repeated throughout this article. A lot. For that matter, there are also quite a few Matildas in this story, but as we’re focused on one particular Henry and his mother, Matilda, I’ll refer to the others primarily by their relationship to our main duo whenever possible.
Henry and Matilda…and Henry…and another Henry….
Henry I as depicted in the 14th century
Henry Plantagenet’s claim to the English throne came through his mother, Matilda. Matilda was the eldest child of Henry I of England, who was in turn son of William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, who became the first Norman king of England after he won the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Matilda also had a younger brother, William Adelin, who was Henry I’s sole legitimate son.
The Empress
Matilda spent only the first few years of her childhood in England, as she was soon sought out as a bride for Henry V (another one!) of the Holy Roman Empire. As this was an enormous honor for Matilda and a boost to her father’s prestige, young Matilda was sent off to Germany to be raised and prepared there for her future role as queen and empress.
Matilda was married in January 1114, and even though disagreements between her new husband and the Pope meant that she was never officially crowned empress, she still adopted the title and used it for the rest of her life. Matilda also gained first-hand experience in leading and governing during her time in the Holy Roman Empire, as her husband left her in charge as regent several times during his absences. In 1118, Matilda ruled Henry’s Italian holdings while he put down a rebellion in Germany, yet despite being only 16, she proved herself to be effective and capable in the role. These experiences undoubtedly shaped her belief in a woman’s ability to govern, which would play a significant role in her future.
Empress Matilda
Catastrophe in the Channel
Disaster struck Matilda’s family in 1120 when her brother, William, drowned in the sinking of the White Ship as it sailed from Normandy back to England. Despite his numerous illegitimate offspring, Matilda’s father never had any further legitimate sons, and his queen had died two years before. Henry I remarried quickly, hoping to produce another legitimate heir, but suddenly the future of the English crown was very much in question.
The sinking of the White Ship, 1120
Despite the uncertainty in her homeland, Matilda remained secure and settled until May 1125, when her husband also passed away. Henry V left her with lands and property in Germany, and though she seemed content to remain in her adopted country, her father demanded her return to England. Matilda initially resisted, but as she was his sole remaining heir, she capitulated eventually.
Oaths in England
Matilda had returned to her father’s court by Christmastime 1126. Despite his remarriage to Adeliza of Louvain nearly six years before, Henry I still had no new son, and he realized that he must make arrangements of some kind to protect the kingdom in the event of his death. He took the unusual step of commanding his barons to swear fealty to his only living heir, Matilda.
Even though Matilda was now recognized as his heir, Henry I never envisioned a future where she fully occupied the English throne herself, alone and in her own right. Instead, he looked to Matilda to do what he could not: remarry and produce a son, who would then inherit his grandfather’s throne. Matilda’s primary role was to be the bridge between generations, safeguarding the Norman kingship until her son could don the crown. In 1127, Henry announced his choice for his daughter’s next husband: Geoffrey of Anjou, the son of Henry’s old enemy.
Geoffrey of Anjou
An Angevin Alliance?
Henry I might have been pleased with his announcement, but he was nearly the only one who was. Matilda was furious; she despised her intended, who was 11 years her junior, as an immature boy, and she considered him to be wildly inferior in terms of noble rank. How could she, an empress, even consider marrying the son of a mere count? It was unthinkable!
Many of the English barons disliked the idea as well. Historically, Normandy and Anjou had been tense rivals, so those barons with a Norman background instinctively mistrusted their longtime enemies. Nor did they want any Angevin getting so close to the English throne; the prevailing assumption of the time was that the husband was in charge in any marriage, regardless of social rank, so the barons feared Geoffrey’s interference if he became Matilda’s spouse.
Rather than viewing the situation as a risk, Henry I saw it as an opportunity to eliminate an enemy and further safeguard the Anglo-Norman holdings. By creating an alliance with Anjou, he intended to protect Normandy’s southern borders and reduce the risk of invasion on the edges of his territory. So regardless of his daughter’s rage and the misgivings of his barons, Henry proceeded with the marriage negotiations.
A New Hope
Matilda’s second marriage took place in 1128. Despite several years of tumultuous relations between Geoffrey and Matilda, their first son was born in 1133. This newest Henry, known as Henry Plantagenet (after his father’s family) or as Henry FitzEmpress (meaning “son of the empress”), carried all his family’s weighty ambitions on his tiny shoulders.
With baby Henry’s birth, it looked as though all of his grandfather’s plans were coming to fruition. All the old king needed to do now was hold things together for a few more years, and then the dynastic disaster triggered by the White Ship’s sinking would be averted. Unfortunately for England, fate had other plans.
Betrayal or Absolution?
Little more than two years later, Henry I fell ill and died on December 1, 1135. Most accounts reported that Henry reaffirmed Matilda as his heir on his deathbed, but some later swore that in his last moments, Henry absolved his barons of their previous oaths, clearing the way for another claimant to the throne.
That claimant was Henry’s nephew, Stephen of Blois. Stephen had long been close to the old king and had sworn his own oaths to Matilda, yet upon hearing the news of his uncle’s death, he raced to London to claim the crown.
King Stephen
On the other side of the Channel, Matilda had been counting on the loyalty of the English barons to preserve the throne for herself and her son. Some did remain true, but many switched allegiances and accepted Stephen instead. Whether they did so because they believed that Henry I had actually changed his mind (or at least chose to believe so to ease their consciences after breaking their oaths), or because they feared the combination of an unprecedented female ruler with a distrusted Angevin consort, the outcome was the same: suddenly, Matilda found herself without the support of the nobles she needed.
An Aside About Kingship
At this point in our story, we should recall that in 12th century England, kingship did not transfer from one ruler to another the same way it did in later centuries. At this time, the passage of the crown from father to heir was not yet assumed as an established custom, nor was there any automatic conferral of kingship to the next heir at the exact time of the previous king’s death. The previous ruler had the right to name his successor, whether that be a blood relative or not, but until certain formalities were undertaken by or on behalf of that successor, the country was leaderless and vulnerable.
Taken together, these nuances meant that not only was the crown NOT automatically assumed to belong to Henry I’s child (and/or designated heir), but also that as of the moment Henry I took his last breath, there was no king – and therefore no king’s laws – in England until the next ruler was determined. No wonder so many people of England were content to embrace the first claimant, a man who did have a reasonable familial claim to the throne, in order to preserve peace and order.
Anarchy
Based on what we’ve already witnessed about Matilda’s nature, you will likely not be surprised to learn that she did not simply accept that Stephen got the better of the situation. Instead, Matilda started planning her path to reclaiming her rightful inheritance. In 1139, the Empress was joined by her half-brother, Robert of Gloucester. Robert was thought to be Henry I’s favorite illegitimate son, and though he initially accepted Stephen’s usurpation, he soon came to regret that decision. He fully committed his resources and military experience to asserting his half-sister’s claim.
The next several years, which later became known as the Anarchy, were a difficult time for the people of England. Civil war broke out and battles between Stephen’s troops and Matilda’s forces, led by Robert, took place across the country, causing damage and disrupting lives. Neither side seemed able to gain and hold an advantage as the tide of momentum swept back and forth.
In February 1141, it seemed that Stephen’s luck had run out. He was captured at Lincoln and taken prisoner, and for several months that summer, Matilda was recognized as ruler and known as the Lady of the English. Then in September, it was Matilda’s turn to suffer a grave setback, as Robert of Gloucester was captured and Matilda was forced to negotiate a prisoner exchange with Stephen’s wife. Stephen was released in exchange for Robert’s return, and any gains the Empress had made vanished.
Depiction of the Battle of Lincoln, from Historia Anglorum
Late in the spring of 1142, Stephen besieged Matilda at Oxford, and it appeared that he might finally claim the victory. Yet Matilda escaped by night with a handful of knights as escorts; they wore white cloaks to blend in with the snowy landscape, then escaped through Stephen’s lines and traveled six miles to safety. She had eluded Stephen once more, but still neither side gained a significant advantage.
Periods of fighting persisted until 1147, when Robert of Gloucester, Matilda’s staunchest ally and vital supporter, passed away. Worn down and without her chief commander, Matilda relinquished her fight to gain the throne for herself, and instead passed her claim on to her son, Henry, to pursue.
Reaching a Resolution
Henry FitzEmpress engaged Stephen’s forces in battle now and again over the following years until 1153, when after a period of stalemate, supporters of both Henry and Stephen urged them to make a settlement. In early August, the two men finally reached agreement on the Treaty of Wallingford. Under the terms of the treaty, Stephen would remain king, but Henry would be named Stephen’s heir and would assume the throne after his death.
Stephen died on October 25, 1154, exhausted after the long fight for his kingdom and the recent deaths of his wife and son. Henry II was crowned king in Westminster Abbey on December 19, 1154, becoming the first king of the Plantagenet dynasty. That dynasty would go on to rule England for over 300 years, until the battle of Bosworth in 1485 saw the last Plantagenet king slain in battle and the crown picked up by a new dynasty: the Tudors.
King Henry II
Empress Matilda
As for Matilda, she spent her remaining years counseling her son and serving as his regent in Normandy. Upon her death in 1167, she was buried in the abbey of Bec-Hellouin. Her inscription reads ‘Great by birth, greater by marriage, greatest in her offspring, here lies the daughter, wife and mother of Henry.’
And that, folks, is how the Plantagenet dynasty got its start – but it’s just that, a start! We’ll have plenty more to learn from this exciting, if contentious, family line.
Related post: learn about the botanical basis of the dynasty’s name!
Sources and Further Reading
Norton, E. (2015). England’s Queens: From Boudica to Elizabeth of York. Amberley.
Lewis, M. (2019). Stephen and Matilda’s civil war. Pen & Sword History.
SPENCER, C. (2021). The White Ship: Conquest, Anarchy and the Wrecking of Henry I’s Dream. William Collins.
Jones, D. (2014). The Plantagenets: The Warrior Kings and Queens Who Made England. Penguin Books
I was always a city kid, but when you grow up in Nebraska and spend lots of summer vacations driving across various Midwestern states with an RV to see the sites and visit family, you pick up an old farmer’s adage or two along the way. One that particularly stuck with me was this old saying, used to advise whether the corn crops were on track to have a good harvest by the fall: the farmer should have corn that was “knee high by the Fourth of July.”
I can’t tell why that one has stayed in my brain, other than that it’s particularly fun to say with an overly-exaggerated country drawl. (Try it if you haven’t already – you’ll thank me for it.) It isn’t even useful advice anymore; from what I’ve read, advances in agricultural science and growing techniques mean that these days, most cornfields would have surpassed knee-height long before now. Still, a glance at my calendar this week brought it to mind, so an Independence Day garden check-in seemed like a darn good idea.
(For the record: I’d initially planned to include more up-to-the-moment snapshots today, but we’ve had crazy winds over the past day or so and many of the plants are tilting and having, shall we say, bad leaf days. I’ll have to share a full gallery once they’re recovered a bit!)
2021 Growing Conditions To Date
Spring here was mostly cool and dry, with long stretches of grey days that didn’t actually bring much precipitation. After a winter with less-than-average snowfall and the absence of any late-season (late March-April) last-gasp snowstorms, it’s been a struggle all season to keep appropriate moisture levels in the soil. The state set several heat records in June as well, so it’s been rather crispy all around so far.
Background: This Season’s Crop
As of this weekend, my plants have been in their containers outdoors for a full 6 weeks. In hindsight, some of the hardier souls probably could have gone into the soil a bit earlier, but mid-May had seen such wild temperature fluctuations, including several dips to the mid-30s Fahrenheit, that I decided to play it safe. Especially since I’d had greater success in starting seedlings indoors this year than I’d ever had before, I didn’t want to risk my plant babies! (More on lessons learned from indoor experiments at a later date.)
Just getting them settled into their homes for the season. 5/24/21
Container Setup
As I mentioned in my previous “meet the garden” post, my suburban townhome situation means that my plants are container-dwellers. I’ve gotten more skilled at the nuances of container growing over the seasons, which is good! There is a down side, however. The result of my increased confidence and expanding interests has been that the total volume of planters has also grown considerably, from a measly 11 little pots or so when I started, up to 45 this year.
What’s the problem, you may ask? Well, we’ve always enjoyed using our deck for other things as well, like grilling meals, relaxing to read, and letting the pets out for some basking in the sun. After last year, the amount of room left to the rest of the non-plant family was quite limited, so I resolved to preserve some leisure space this year.
I expanded my growing space this year by doubling the number of railing planters I set up on the deck’s edge. This certainly has freed up some real estate on the deck floor, though I’ve been learning quickly what does and doesn’t work so well in that setup! I’ve also tried more companion planting, such as allowing a couple basil plants to grow between the tomatoes, and so far the experiment is working.
June 12, 2021
My plants are loosely divided into a few different categories: medicinal herbs, vegetables, herbs primarily used for culinary purposes, and decorative flowers. Let’s briefly check in with each.
Medicinal Herbs
Getting some lovely early returns with the yarrow, calendula, comfrey, and chamomile!
The winner of this category, leaves-down, has to be the borage! It’s my first year growing it, and I’ve been utterly amazed by how easy it was to grow from seed, how well it took off in the garden, how absolutely gorgeous the flowers are, and how much the bumblebees can’t stay away from it! It’s lovely to see little pollinator friends going from borage to calendula to yarrow to catnip and back again. I have it on good authority that these blooms also taste fantastic, but so far I’ve been saving and drying them for later medicinal use. I’ll have to try it soon, though!
Borage, 2021
Veggies
As part of the attempt to control the amount of space taken up by each type of plant this year, I decided to go “mini” with the vegetable plants. That is, rather than full-grown species, I opted for cherry tomatoes and lunchbox peppers. I’d never come across lunchbox peppers before, but as you might imagine, they promise small, compact peppers that are perfect for a snack or a single-person side. Worth a try in my book!
So far, a few tiny green tomatoes have been spotted, along with a few blossoms on the pepper plants. Stay tuned!
Peppers and tomatoes and basil, oh my!
Culinary Herbs
In past years, I’ve struggled a bit with which way to prioritize herbs like sage, thyme, and oregano. Great for herbal healing remedies, of course, but also lovely to have as fresh culinary ingredients! One of the things I’ve learned after a few seasons of growing herbs is that trying to do everything usually leads me absolutely nowhere, and I end the season feeling that I wasted opportunities and frustrated that I didn’t have enough preserved for either medicinal or culinary purposes over the winter.
This year I changed my approach a bit. I decided that I have a number of other herbs I’m growing purely for medicinal reasons, like plantain, calendula, yarrow and borage. This year, I’d try to expand my focus with the kitchen herbs to using them exactly that way: fresh, as needed, in the kitchen. Sounds like a minor adjustment, I know, but giving myself permission to use, enjoy and share them at their freshest has been downright liberating.
They’re doing rather well this year, too, knock on wood. I’d planned to share a picture of the mediterranean planter with you, but they’re looking a bit mushed-down at the moment after a good watering. Soon, though! In the meantime, here’s a tiny glimpse of some lemon thyme…oh, and Llewelyn the Lesser, just for fun. 🙂
Decorative Flowers
Finally, even though I really didn’t intend to grow any purely decorative flowers this year in order to reserve space, I did end up with two after all…and they’re so gorgeous, I’m truly glad I did.
This pretty petunia was an impulse buy at a plant sale this spring, but I couldn’t resist those colors. Unfortunately, it was in a section of unmarked misfits, so I don’t have details on its variety. Looks gorgeous amongst the other greenery, though!
Petunia, unknown variety, 2021
I’m so pleased that this snapdragon bloomed this year. I attempted to grow these seeds last season, but long story short, they didn’t germinate. I tried again this year with the remaining seeds in the packet, and while only two plants were successful, just look at the stunning color of these blooms! (Territorial Seed Company, Potomac Sunset)
Snapdragon, Potomac Sunset, 2021
Thanks for taking this garden tour with me! Be back soon with more updates and plant bios!
Welcome back to this follow-up post! We’re discussing how to physically identify poison hemlock, as well as how to distinguish between hemlock and yarrow, whose appearances are deceptively similar.
In my previous post, we walked through hemlock’s history. Stretching all the way back to the ancient world, hemlock was known as both a deadly poison and a useful healer. Herbalists across the centuries treated it with wary respect and cautioned their readers about the razor-thin line separating a healing dose from a lethal one.
Interesting, but…so what?
At this point, you might (understandably!) be asking: okay, it’s been a pleasant jaunt down history lane, but how does this actually impact my modern life?
Well, since 2021 seems to be doing its darndest to out-catastrophe 2020, get ready to add “poisonous plant resurgence” to your bingo card! That’s right, hemlock is reported to be popping up in greater abundance this summer in several U.S. states, increasing your chances of a close encounter.
So just stay away, right?
You may ALSO be wondering: if hemlock is so dangerous, and its poisonous effects have been so well-known for basically forever, why do people still get close enough to be harmed?
Most accidental poisonings are the result of mistaken identities. As such, hemlock is a textbook example of how vitally important it is to make sure you are 100% positive on a plant’s identification before you interact with it. Let’s talk about how to do that.
Hemlock’s Modern Threat
Hemlock is a master of disguise. It is sufficiently similar in appearance to several other harmless or even beneficial plants to be easily misidentified if a person is unaware of what to look for. Examples of lookalike plants include wild carrot (aka Queen Anne’s lace), fennel, parsley and yarrow, though all can be distinguished by a visual examination if you know what to look for.
I am by no means an expert on plant identification, but as I have previously posted about yarrow and its benefits, let’s explore some key distinctions between hemlock and yarrow in terms of their appearance. As for hemlock’s other lookalikes, please refer to a reputable guide book or other source to learn how to distinguish each. Unless you have a confirmed identity for the plant you’re looking at, stay away and do not touch!
Distinguishing between Hemlock and Yarrow
Both yarrow and hemlock have clusters of small, white flowers and fairly delicate sets of leaves. These similar features make them easy to confuse, especially if you don’t have both in front of you to compare. Fortunately, there are several physical distinctions that can help you determine whether the plant in question is friend or foe. (Use the slider bars below to view and compare photos of each characteristic!)
Flowers
Personally I find the flowers the most difficult part of these two plants to distinguish. Keener eyes than mine can probably spot lots of minute differences in the tiny white flowers themselves, but if that’s not your forte either, check for the shape of the clusters. Hemlock’s clusters form an umbel, meaning that they are all on short stalks that branch out from a common point and look somewhat like the ribs of an umbrella.
It’s also worth noting for fun that cultivated yarrow can have flowers in many different colors, ranging from soft pastel pinks to bright, vivid shades of orange, red, yellow, gold…the options are plentiful if you’re looking for an ornamental yarrow, and they make very pretty pops of color in the garden. Herbalists tend to seek white yarrow for medicinal uses, however, as it is not certain whether the colorful varieties possess the same beneficial properties.
Yarrow is a significantly shorter plant than hemlock, tending to top out at two to three feet high. Fully-grown hemlock, on the other hand, can reach heights of five to ten feet. If the plant you’re looking at is above your head, it’s not going to be yarrow.
Leaves
Though the two plants have similar leaves, there are definite differences in their leaf structure. Yarrow’s leaves are frilly, thin, and fern-like. Hemlock’s leaves are broader across the middle, flatter, and have a similar shape to those of parsley.
Examining the stems of the plants is probably the most surefire way to tell these two apart. Yarrow’s stems are green, slightly fuzzy and grooved. Hemlock’s stems usually (though not always, as I understand it) have telltale red or purple blotches that set them apart. To help you keep track of which is which, remember that some folks call those blotches ‘Socrates’ blood’!
Here’s that info again for those of you who prefer charts:
Yarrow
Poison Hemlock
Flowers
Clusters of small, white blossoms; not truely umbel-shape
True umbel clusters of small white flowers
Leaves
Frilly, thin, delicate, fern-like
Flat, broader in center, spiky lobes, shaped like parsley
Stems
Green, slightly fuzzy
Smooth, hairless, often with purplish-red splotches
Height
Medium height, approx 2-3 feet
Taller once grown, up to 5-10 feet
Once again, the surest way to keep yourself and your family safe is to avoid touching or consuming any plant material unless you have an absolutely confirmed identity of that plant. If you plan to be out in the world where you may encounter uncultivated plants, I strongly suggest bringing along a plant identification guide. Find a book or online resource that covers the specific region you plan to be in, as there can be wildly different climates and vegetation even within the same state.
