From the “Perennial Calendar.”
Chickweed.--When the flower expands boldly and fully, no rain will
happen for four hours or upwards: if it continues in that open state, no
rain will disturb the summer’s day: when it half conceals its miniature
flower, the day is generally showery; but if it entirely shuts up, or
veils the white flower with its green mantle, let the traveller put on
his great coat, and the ploughman, with his beasts of drought, expect
rest from their labour.
Siberian sowthistle.--If the flowers of this plant keep open all night,
rain will certainly fall the next day.
Trefoil.--The different species of trefoil always contract their leaves
at the approach of a storm: hence these plants have been termed the
husbandman’s barometer.
African marygold.--If this plant opens not its flowers in the morning
about seven o’clock, you may be sure it will rain that day, unless it
thunders.
The convolvulus also, and the pimpernel _anagalis arvensis_, fold up
their leaves on the approach of rain: the last in particular is termed
the poor man’s weather-glass.
White thorns and dog-rose bushes.--Wet summers are generally attended
with an uncommon quantity of seed on these shrubs; whence their unusual
fruitfulness is a sign of a severe winter.
Besides the above, there are several plants, especially those with
compound yellow flowers, which nod, and during the whole day turn their
flowers towards the sun: viz. to the east in the morning, to the south
at noon, and to the west towards evening; this is very observable in the
sowthistle _sonchus arvensis_: and it is a well-known fact, that a great
part of the plants in a serene sky expand their flowers, and as it were
with cheerful looks behold the light of the sun; but before rain they
shut them up, as the tulip.
The flowers of the alpine whitlow grass _draba alpina_, the bastard
feverfew _parthenium_, and the wintergreen _trientalis_, hang down in
the night as if the plants were asleep, lest rain or the moist air
should injure the fertilizing dust.
One species of woodsorrel shuts up or doubles its leaves before storms
and tempests, but in a serene sky expands or unfolds them, so that the
husbandman can pretty clearly foretell tempests from it. It is also well
known that the mountain ebony _bauhinia_, sensitive plants, and cassia,
observe the same rule.
Besides affording prognostics, many plants also fold themselves up at
particular hours, with such regularity, as to have acquired particular
names from this property. The following are among the more remarkable
plants of this description:--
Goatsbeard.--The flowers of both species of tragopogon open in the
morning at the approach of the sun, and without regard to the state of
the weather regularly shut about noon. Hence it is generally known in
the country by the name of go to bed at noon.
The princesses’ leaf, or four o’clock flower, in the Malay Islands, is
an elegant shrub so called by the natives, because their ladies are fond
of the grateful odour of its white leaves. It takes its generic name
from its quality of opening its flowers at four in the evening, and not
closing them in the morning till the same hour returns, when they again
expand in the evening at the same hour. Many people transplant them from
the woods into their gardens, and use them as a dial or a clock,
especially in cloudy weather.
The evening primrose is well known from its remarkable properties of
regularly shutting with a loud popping noise, about sunset in the
evening, and opening at sunrise in the morning. After six o’clock, these
flowers regularly report the approach of night.
The tamarind tree _parkinsonia_, the nipplewort _lapsana communis_, the
water lily _nymphaea_, the marygolds _calendulae_, the bastard sensitive
plant _aeschynomene_, and several others of the diadelphia class, in
serene weather, expand their leaves in the daytime, and contract them
during the night. According to some botanists, the tamarind-tree enfolds
within its leaves the flowers or fruit every night, in order to guard
them from cold or rain.
The flower of the garden lettuce, which is in a vertical plane, opens at
seven o’clock, and shuts at ten.
A species of serpentine aloe, without prickles, whose large and
beautiful flowers exhale a strong odour of the vanilla during the time
of its expansion, which is very short, is cultivated in the imperial
garden at Paris. It does not blow till towards the month of July, and
about five o’clock in the evening, at which time it gradually opens its
petals, expands them, droops, and dies. By ten o’clock the same night,
it is totally withered, to the great astonishment of the spectators, who
flock in crowds to see it.
The cerea, a native of Jamaica and Vera Cruz, expands an exquisitely
beautiful coral flower, and emits a highly fragrant odour, for a few
hours in the night, and then closes to open no more. The flower is
nearly a foot in diameter; the inside of the calyx, of a splendid
yellow; and the numerous petals are of a pure white. It begins to open
about seven or eight o’clock in the evening, and closes before sunrise
in the morning.
The flower of the dandelion possesses very peculiar means of sheltering
itself from the heat of the sun, as it closes entirely whenever the heat
becomes excessive. It has been observed to open, in summer, at half an
hour after five in the morning, and to collect its petals towards the
centre about nine o’clock.
Linnæus has enumerated forty-six flowers, which possess this kind of
sensibility: he divides them into three classes.--1. Meteoric flowers,
which less accurately observe the hour of folding, but are expanded
sooner or later according to the cloudiness, moisture, or pressure of
the atmosphere. 2. Tropical flowers, that open in the morning and close
before evening every day, but the hour of their expanding becomes
earlier or later as the length of the day increases or decreases. 3.
Equinoctial flowers, which open at a certain and exact hour of the day,
and for the most part close at another determinate hour.
_On Flora’s Horologe, by Charlotte Smith._
In every copse and sheltered dell,
Unveiled to the observant eye,
Are faithful monitors, who tell
How pass the hours and seasons by.
The green-robed children of the Spring
Will mark the periods as they pass,
Mingle with leaves Time’s feathered wing,
And bind with flowers his silent glass.
Mark where transparent waters glide,
Soft flowing o’er their tranquil bed;
There, cradled on the dimpling tide,
Nymphæa rests her lovely head.
But conscious of the earliest beam,
She rises from her humid nest,
And sees reflected in the stream
The virgin whiteness of her breast.
Till the bright Daystar to the west
Declines, in Ocean’s surge to lave:
Then, folded in her modest vest,
She slumbers on the rocking wave.
See Hieracium’s various tribe,
Of plumy seed and radiate flowers,
The course of Time their blooms describe,
And wake or sleep appointed hours.
Broad o’er its imbricated cup
The Goatsbeard spreads its golden rays
But shuts its cautious petals up,
Retreating from the noontide blaze.
Pale as a pensive cloistered nun,
The Bethlem Star her face unveils,
When o’er the mountain peers the Sun,
But shades it from the vesper gales.
Among the loose and arid sands
The humble Arenaria creeps;
Slowly the Purple Star expands,
But soon within its calyx sleeps.
And those small bells so lightly rayed
With young Aurora’s rosy hue,
Are to the noontide Sun displayed,
But shut their plaits against the dew.
On upland slopes the shepherds mark
The hour, when, as the dial true,
Cichorium to the towering Lark
Lifts her soft eyes serenely blue.
And thou, “Wee crimson tipped flower,”
Gatherest thy fringed mantle round
Thy bosom, at the closing hour,
When nightdrops bathe the turfy ground,
Unlike Silene, who declines
The garish noontide’s blazing light;
But when the evening crescent shines,
Gives all her sweetness to the night.
Thus in each flower and simple bell,
That in our path betrodden lie,
Are sweet remembrancers who tell
How fast their winged moments fly.
Dr. Forster remarks that towards the close of this month, the cat’s ear
_hypochœris radicata_ is in flower every where; its first appearance is
about the 18th day. This plant, as well as the rough dandelion,
continues to flower till after Midsummer. The lilac, the barberry tree,
the maple, and other trees and shrubs, are also in flower. The meadow
grasses are full grown and flowering. The flowers of the garden rose, in
early and warm years, begin to open.
_On a Young Rosebud in May, from the German of Goëthe._
A Rose, that bloomed the roadside by,
Caught a young vagrant’s wanton eye:
The child was gay, the morn was clear,
The child would see the rosebud near:
She saw the blooming flow’r.
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that blooms the roadside near!
The child exclaimed, “My hands shall dare,
Thee, Rose, from off thy stem to tear:”
The Rose replied, “If I have need,
My thorns shall make thy fingers bleed--
Thy rash design give o’er.”
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that blooms the roadside near!
Regardless of its thorny spray,
The child would tear the Rose away;
The Rose bewailed with sob and sigh,
But all in vain, no help was nigh
To quell the urchin’s pow’r.
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that bloomed the roadside near!
_New Monthly Magazine._
From Dr. Aikin’s “Natural History of the Year,” the ensuing passages
regarding the season will be found agreeable and useful.
On hedge-banks the wild germander of a fine azure blue is conspicuous,
and the whole surface of meadows is often covered by the yellow
crowfoot. These flowers, also called buttercups, are erroneously
supposed to communicate to the butter at this season its rich yellow
tinge, as the cows will not touch it on account of its acrid biting
quality; this is strikingly visible in pastures, where, though all the
grass is cropped to the very roots, the numerous tufts of this weed
spring up, flower, and shed their seeds in perfect security, and the
most absolute freedom from molestation by the cattle; they are indeed
cut down and made into hay together with the rest of the rubbish that
usually occupies a large proportion of every meadow; and in this state
are eaten by cattle, partly because they are incapable of separating
them, and partly because, by dying, their acrimony is considerably
subdued; but there can be no doubt of their place being much better
supplied by any sort of real grass. In the present age of agricultural
improvement the subject of grass lands among others has been a good deal
attended to, but much yet remains to be done, and the tracts of the
ingenious Stillingfleet, and of Mr. Curtis, on this important division
of rural economy, are well deserving the notice of every liberal farmer.
The excellence of a meadow consists in its producing as much herbage as
possible, and that this herbage should be agreeable and nutritious to
the animals which are fed with its crop. Every plant of crowfoot
therefore ought, if practicable, to be extirpated, for, so far from
being grateful and nourishing to any kind of cattle, it is notorious,
that in its fresh state nothing will touch it. The same may be said of
the hemlock, kex, and other umbelliferous plants which are common in
most fields, and which have entirely overrun others; for these when
fresh are not only noxious to the animals that are fed upon hay, but
from their rank and straggling manner of growth occupy a very large
proportion of the ground. Many other plants that are commonly found in
meadows may upon the same principles be objected to; and though the
present generation of farmers has done much, yet still more remains for
their successors to perform.
The gardens now yield an agreeable though immature product in the young
gooseberries and currants, which are highly acceptable to our tables,
now almost exhausted of their store of preserved fruits.
Early in the month the latest species of the summer birds of passage
arrive, generally in the following order: fern-owl or goat-sucker,
fly-catcher, and sedge-bird.
This is also the principal time in which birds hatch and rear their
young. The assiduity and patience of the female during the task of
sitting are admirable, as well as the conjugal affection of the male,
who sings to his mate, and often supplies her place; and nothing can
exceed the parental tenderness of both when the young are brought to
light.
Several species of insects are this month added to those which have
already been enumerated; the chief of which are the great white cabbage
butterfly, capilio brassicæ; the may-chaffer, the favourite food of the
fern-owl; the horse-fly, or forest-fly, so great a plague to horses and
cattle; and several kinds of moths and butterflies.
Towards the end of May the bee-hives send forth their earlier swarms.
These colonies consist of the young progeny, and some old ones, now
grown too numerous to remain in their present habitation, and
sufficiently strong and vigorous to provide for themselves. One queen
bee is necessary to form each colony, and wherever she flies they
follow. Nature directs them to march in a body in quest of a new
settlement, which, if left to their choice, would generally be some
hollow trunk of a tree. But man, who converts the labours and instincts
of so many animals to his own use, provides them with a dwelling, and
repays himself with their honey. The early swarms are generally the most
valuable, as they have time enough to lay in a plentiful store of honey
for their subsistence through the winter.
About the same time the glow-worm shines. Of this species of insect the
females are without wings and luminous, the males are furnished with
wings, but are not luminous; it is probable, therefore, that this light
may serve to direct the male to the haunts of the female, as Hero of
Sestos is said to have displayed a torch from the top of a high tower to
guide her venturous lover Leander in his dangerous passage across the
Hellespont:--
You (i.e. the Sylphs)
Warm on her mossy couch the radiant worm,
Guard from cold dews her love-illumined form,
From leaf to leaf conduct the virgin light,
Star of the earth, and diamond of the night.
_Darwin._
These little animals are found to extinguish their lamps between eleven
and twelve at night.
Old May-day is the usual time for turning out cattle into the pastures,
though frequently then very bare of grass. The milk soon becomes more
copious, and of finer quality, from the juices of the young grass; and
it is in this month that the making of cheese is usually begun in the
dairies. Cheshire, Wiltshire, and the low parts of Gloucestershire, are
the tracts in England most celebrated for the best cheese.
Many trees and shrubs flower in May, such as the oak, beech, maple,
sycamore, barberry, laburnum, horse-chestnut, lilac, mountain ash, and
Guelder rose; of the more humble plants the most remarkable are the lily
of the valley, and woodroof in woods, the male orchis in meadows, and
the lychnis, or cuckoo flower, on hedge-banks.
This month is not a very busy season for the farmer. Some sowing remains
to be done in late years; and in forward ones, the weeds, which spring
up abundantly in fields and gardens, require to be kept under. The
husbandman now looks forward with anxious hope to the reward of his
industry:--
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man
Has done his part. Ye fost’ring breezes, blow!
Ye soft’ning dews, ye tender show’rs descend;
And temper all, thou world-receiving sun,
Into the perfect year!
_Thomson._
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