LATIN NAMES OF FAVOURITE FLOWERS

Evening Star, Issue 22026, 11 May 1935, Page 3

LATIN NAMES OF FAVOURITE FLOWERS

' “ I always feel rather bewildered when a person describes plants by their botanical names. Possibly this is because I know so little Latin, and have a sense of inferiority when some one passing a bed of cornflowers refers to them as Centaurea cyanus. “ Of course, I realise that as flowers are international and bloom in all parts of the world, it is necessary to have one language,” writes Mr John F. Leeming in ids book, ‘The Garden Grows.’ “ The man in Tibet must call a plant by the same name as it is known in San Francisco and Manchester, otherwise confusion would arise when sending seeds, and so on. But surely these Latin descriptions belong to the technical expert, to the botanist, and the seed merchant?

“ It seems to mo a gross injustice to call the forget-me-not Myosotis, or to say Aquilegiu vulgaris when we mean columbine. The English names often have a happy touch,of old-world things; they suggest picturesque clumps flowering in a cottage garden; and it is a pity to lose this faint aura of romance even in a modern world obsessed with efficiency. ; “ I suggest respectfully that the Latin names might best be retained for use by botanists and seed merchants when writing to each other, but that the ordinary person like myself might bo allowed to continue talking about sunflowers, snapdragons, bluebells, and so on. . “ Sometimes my ignorance of Latin gets me in serious difficulties. X eopie

isiting tho garde'll take me far beyond ny depth, and, reluctant to admit draught out that I do not know what they are talking about, I so under. There are usually two kinds of people, 1 itnd, who use botanical names: The elderly expert who really means it, and has no sense of shame when be booms out Cerastium tomentosum maximum, and tho nasty soul who likes to display his knowledge. It was one of the former class who caused my worst downfall.

“ We had walked round one evening —he was visiting the garden for the first time—and, of course, at intervals he had spoken of Quercus. Calling my beautiful old oak trees Quercus! It is a wonder Holtzpeffler did not arise and slay the man! However, in due course we arrived at the long flower borders, and like a warhorse to a trumpet, the man dashed into full battle.

“ 111 two minytes the air was thick with missiles! I dodged Campanula glome rata superba, ducked to avoid Eohinops ruthenicus. Then suddenly he had me cornered. Pausing in front of a great clump of blooms, Tie chanted', ‘ Althaea rosea—a magnificent specimen! That colour is unusual in Althaea rosea, don’t you think? What is the variety?’ Now, often I can avoid a direct answer by saying, _ ‘ Ah,’ or ‘Well, it is a matter of opinion,’ or something noncommittal like that, but this time there was no way out. The man stood there waiting. “ Hurriedly I looked at the various flowers, hoping for a hint as to what an Althaea could be. Those hollyhocks? Not likely. The poppies? No —I had been done once before with poppies; they were called Mcconopsis something. It must be the large white Canterbury Bells. ‘ Take a chance on those,’ whispered ill-luck. Two minutes later I had crashed, and was trying vainly to wriggle unobserved from the wreckage. For Althaea rosea meant hollyhock.” There will be many amateur gardeners who will cordially sympathise with Mr Leeming, and will be ready to believe that one who expresses their views on this topic with such humour and insight will also interest them_ in the story which he tells of the making of his own garden in ‘ The Garden Grows.’ Mr Leeming learned by his own experience, and he details his progress after a year, after four years, after seven years, and as his garden is to-day. It is one of the brightest garden books of recent years, and appears just at the right moment.