In the garden: Simply growing hypericum helps to perk me up
What’s in a name, especially an old plant name like wort? In my garden I have spiderwort, botanically known as Tradescantia, a much prettier sounding name. It’s a lovely spring flowering perennial, but with a name that sounds like a phobia, it could be a hard sell.
The word wort, pronounced as wort or as wert, comes from the old English wyrt, originating in the older German word warz. It’s also a term used in brewing, but it means simply plant or root — and back in the time when flowering plants were described as having a herbal or medicinal purpose, it was tagged on to at least couple of hundred plants with names like lungwort, bladderwort, and spleenwort.
It was believed that a particular plant would be effective in treating disorders related to the specific body part, often because a part of the plant resembled it in some way. And then there’s Hogwarts, Harry Potter’s alma mater — just can’t get away from that Latin again. It means old school, of course, or nourishing mother. I digress. Back to worty plants.
Another one I have in my garden is St. John’s wort, or hypericum. It has long history of use as a medicinal plant dating back to ancient Greece. Extracts have been used as an anti-bacterial and anti-inflammatory treatment and most often as a herbal treatment for mild depression.
Fortunately, I haven’t needed it, but I do find simply growing it perks me up. The particular species used herbally and grown commercially is Hypericum perforatum, a plant with translucent dots on the leaves, causing them to appear perforated when held up to the light, hence the name. And here I thought it meant perfumed. Well.
The name hypericum is from the Greek word that refers to the hanging of plants above doors to ward off evil spirits. I’m thinking I should hang bits of my hypericum over the shed door because I know something is hiding out in there. The name St. John’s wort is believed to be connected with John the Baptist, due to the red resin (blood?) that is produced from glands in the flower petals.
Around the world there are over 400 species of hypericum in different forms — trees, shrubs, annuals, some evergreen, others deciduous, plus a native one, Hypericum canadense. The one I have in my garden is a cultivar named Hypericum millepertuis ‘Blue Velvet,’ a small shrub with aromatic leaves and small yellow flowers from June to September. It grows well for me in full sun and well drained soil, although there is some above ground dieback in a severe winter, but it always recovers.
Hypericum do produce berries, but I haven’t seen any on this particular variety in my garden. Other varieties are especially productive and are a favourite of florists. Hypericum was featured in the bouquets given to medallists at the Vancouver Olympics. Now the breeders have come up with new varieties with colourful berries — green, coral pink, white, red and even black.
These are patented plants in the Everlasting™ Series, developed by the firm Kolster, B.V. in The Netherlands. These hypericum are compact shrubs that grow to about knee height and are rated for zone 5. Described as having berries that look like a basket of mini caramel apples, Hypericum “Kolmglor” Everlasting™ Glory PPAF is the official name. If you prefer the one that looks like “one thousand mini peaches on one plant” go for Hypericum ‘Kolmbeau’ Everlasting™ Beauty PP13532. Or for a “bundle of white chocolate drops,” look for Hypericum “Kolmawhi” Everlasting™ White PP20631.
What’s in a name, indeed? A lot of history, geography, folklore and . . . patent application numbers.
Quick reminder of Guelph Master Gardeners 16th annual A Day in the Garden seminar. It’s at Victori
