This summer, I have been picking Himalayan blackberries in a local schoolyard. Twice in the last month, I developed sharp pains in my hand immediately afterward. There must be some type of neurotoxin in the bushes because the pain cannot be attributed to any cuts or scratches and is much more intense than a standard rash. What part of the plant could cause that reaction?
I checked Botanical Dermatology (Mitchell & Rook, 1979), Plants That Poison (Schmutz, 1979), the Plants for A Future database, and Toxic Plants of North America (Burrows/Tyrl, 2001) and found no references to any toxicity. Medical Botany: Plants Affecting Human Health (Lewis, 2003) describes the use of a blackberry-leaf tea for settling the stomach, so the leaves, when steeped, are not toxic. You do not say whether the pain is superficial, such as a skin rash, or deeper, which would make me wonder about some kind of stress or overuse syndrome.
Since we cannot give medical advice, you should discuss the incident with your health practitioner to see if you have some sensitivity to Himalayan blackberry, or to something else you encountered in that area. I found this link (to a page called Native Plants of Montara Mountain) showing the similarity in appearance between Himalayan blackberry and poison oak. It might be that you encountered poison oak without knowing it.
It may be that some other environmental factor (perhaps an application of herbicide) caused your distress. You should check with the school’s grounds supervisor to be certain.
I am looking to install wine-producing grapes in my back yard, but I want to purchase vines from a reputable company, especially since I want to minimize the chance of exposure to Phylloxera. Where would you recommend I shop for the 12-20 vines I would like to install in my back yard?
While I cannot guarantee that any of these nurseries sell stock that is free of Phylloxera, here are three reputable nurseries that may have what you are looking for:
Raintree Nursery
Burnt Ridge Nursery & Orchards
Cloud Mountain Farm
Source: Susan Hill. The Pacific Northwest Plant Locator 2000-2001.
If you would like to know more about Phylloxera, Oregon State University’s booklet, Grape Phylloxera: Biology and Management in the Pacific Northwest discusses the subject in great detail.
I have a grapevine that is totally out of control and growing from the arbor into the trees. How and when should it be pruned back? I cut one vine that was up in the tree and it seemed to “bleed water.”
From the American Horticultural Society Pruning and Training Manual, ed. by C. Brickell (1996, p. 289.):
“Prune only in midwinter when the risk of sap bleeding from cuts is at a minimum; any later, and bleeding may be difficult to stop (cauterization with a red-hot poker is the traditional remedy).”
From the book The Grape Grower, by L. Rombough (2002, p. 44-45.):
“Pruning Neglected or Overgrown Vines…If the trunk of the vine is straight, or is otherwise healthy, you may be able to short-cut the process by cutting everything back to the head of the trunk. You will have no crop that season, but you can easily train the new shoots that emerge as canes or new cordons to bear a full crop the following year. More often, the vine will be such a mess of old growth and oversized wood combined with twisted, multiple trunks that the simplest way to prune it is with one quick cut, through the base of the trunk(s), right at ground level. Kill the vine? No! Almost without fail, the vine will bounce back and refill the arbor or trellis in one season, because it has the full vigor of a large, established root system behind the new growth. The newly regrown vine should resume full production the very next year.”
Is the California foothill pine the same as a digger pine? Will it grow in the Pacific Northwest?
Foothill pine is a more acceptable common name for Pinus sabiniana. It is also referred to as gray pine, or ghost pine and, less commonly, see-through pine (because of its open, lacy structure). The name ‘digger pine’ originated during the California Gold Rush of the nineteenth century, when prospectors noticed Native Americans foraging (‘digging’) for pine nuts, roots, and bulbs. The gold-diggers referred to the native people as Digger Indians, a term that is now considered derogatory. James Hickman, editor of The Jepson Manual: Higher Plants of California (University of California Press), made a point of referring to the tree as foothill pine or gray pine, including a note asking people not to use the pejorative name: “I think this is better than not mentioning the issue at all.” In Sandra Strike’s Ethnobotany of the California Indians (Koeltz, 1994), the author says that Native Americans used a digging stick to forage bulbs and roots “without disturbing other plants. Natives were appalled when they saw the large holes and destruction caused by non-natives’ ‘modern’ digging tools. Many California Natives prefer that Pinus sabiniana be called ‘Gray Pine.'” The large cones of this pine were important as a food source, with seeds rich in oil and protein.
According to Arthur Lee Jacobson’s Trees of Seattle (2006), this three-needled pine with substantial cones, somewhat sparse, gray-tinted, and weeping foliage, is rare in Seattle. There are specimens in the Washington Park Arboretum, UW campus, the Chittenden Locks, and Rodgers Park. Because of its native range (which is mostly hot, dry, and rocky), the main thing you might want to consider is whether you can provide a site that has excellent drainage and warmth. In California, it is often found in growing near Ceanothus cuneatus and native oaks.
What type of plant is the mistletoe people refer to during the holiday season? How did it get its name?
There are over 1,000 mistletoe species. It is a parasitic plant that was hosted by the oak tree, but also seen on pear trees in Roman times. Mistletoe has a long history of ritual use, myth, legend, and folklore. The name ‘mistletoe’ comes from two Anglo-Saxon words: mistle, meaning dung, and tan meaning twig. Why “dung on a twig,” you might ask. The name comes from the way the plant is propagated by birds eating the berries, then passing the seeds through the gut, and excreting the deposits onto the branches of trees. Seeds are rubbed around by the birds’ beaks when they wipe them on the bark. The seeds then germinate from cracks in the twigs of the tree. The species of European lore and legend is Viscum album, which lives on deciduous tree species, such as apple and poplar. In North America, mistletoe more commonly refers to Phoradendron leucarpum. You can watch a clip of birds interacting with an Australian mistletoe species on the BBC’s website. We also have in the library a copy of The Private Life of Plants by David Attenborough, which describes the phenomenon.
If you want to go deeper into the lore, we also recommend checking out The Green Mantle: An Investigation into our Lost Knowledge of Plants by Michael Jordan.
Can you tell me the name of all those shrubs with tiny purple marble-like fruit that grow along the walkway by the Intramural Activities building at University of Washington? Are they related to pepper? They look like purple peppercorns! Are they edible?
This shrub, which goes mostly unnoticed until its dramatic fruit stands out in fall, is Callicarpa (beautyberry), most likely Callicarpa bodinieri var. giraldii ‘Profusion.’ Based on the size and shape of the fruit, I can see why you might think this plant could be related to pepper (the seasoning). Taxonomists have moved beautyberry around, but for now Callicarpa is in the mint family, Lamiaceae, while pepper (Piper) is in Piperaceae, and requires a warmer climate (subtropics or hotter) than ours.
Callicarpa is not listed in any of the usual sources on seriously toxic plants, but that does not mean its fruit is safe or tasty for human consumption. According to Julia Morton, a botanist and author of Wild Plants for Survival in South Florida, “the rank odor of the plant makes nibbling of beautyberry bunches on the stem unpleasant.” This article from the Cape Coral Daily Breeze (February 6, 2015) mentions that birds, deer, and squirrels enjoy the fruit. In my own garden, it is not the first choice of birds, but I have seen them trying it from time to time. Humans find the fruit mealy and insipid, according to the article, but that doesn’t stop avid foragers from attempting to make jelly from it.
If you grow Callicarpa, you may learn to appreciate its subtle flowers in spring, and the gently turning colors of its leaves in fall. Callicarpa americana also has terpenoids in its leaves that repel insects (mosquitoes, ticks, ants, and more).
Can you tell me more about the Shipova tree? Will it grow here in the Northwest, and is it suitable for a small garden?
Shipova is both a common name and a cultivated variety of x Sorbopyrus auricularis. The letter x means it is a cross between Sorbus aria (whitebeam, a species of mountain ash) and Pyrus (European pear). This hybrid came about in the early 1600s in the Bollwiller (also spelled Bollwyller) castle garden in Alsace, and is propagated by grafting rather than by seeds. One of its common names is Bollwyller pear.
The fruit is shaped like a very round but small pear, and about the size of a large apricot. It ripens to a rich yellow with a blush of reddish orange where the sun reaches it. The yellow flesh is similar in flavor to pear or apple butter. There is at least one dwarf variety, ‘Baby Shipova,’ that is 6 to 8 feet at maturity. It can take seven years or more before it bears fruit. The variety you mention, Shipova, is self-fertile, but this tree will be more productive if planted near a late-blooming European pear for cross-pollination.
According to Ciscoe Morris, “it forms a lovely 15- to 20-foot-tall pyramidal tree with downy silver-gray pear-shaped leaves that turn pink and yellow in autumn. In April, large clusters of attractive white flowers cover the tree.” It can suffer occasionally from fireblight and apple maggot. There is a chapter about Shipova in Lee Reich’s Uncommon Fruits for Every Garden (Timber Press, 2004).
What are the origins of the expression, “the toolies?” I grew up using it to mean the boondocks, or the wild outskirts, or what some people call the sticks.
‘The sticks’ is an obvious reference to a forested area (trees are mere sticks to city slickers?!), and ‘the boondocks’ is from bundok, the Tagalog word for mountain, but ‘the toolies’ (also spelled tules) has roots in northern California, where it refers to two species of bulrush (both formerly in the genus Scirpus, now Schoenoplectus acutus var. occidentalis and Schoenoplectus californicus). Deeper down, it is borrowed from the Spanish tule, a colonial era borrowing of tollin or tullin, the Nahuatl word for various types of reeds and bulrushes.
An article by Joe Eaton in Bay Nature magazine (January-March 2004 issue) discusses the expression’s etymology as well as the plants, and their California associations (with marshlands, indigenous uses of the plant, and more). There is also a winter phenomenon called ‘tule fog.’
For more on the etymology of the expression, see Mark Liberman’s entertaining article on Language Log, “Ultima Toolies.”
Next time you go for a walk in the toolies/tules, keep in mind that the common tule, Schoenoplectus acutus, is a Washington native found in wetlands and riparian areas on both sides of the Cascades. There’s a good chance you could be out in the tules if you explore the Center for Urban Horticulture’s Union Bay Natural Area!
Can I grow flowering tobacco varieties, such as Nicotiana sylvestris, and harvest the leaves for smoking?
Nicotiana species are in the Family Solanaceae. Nicotiana sylvestris is a parent of cultivated tobacco, N. tabacum. You can surmise that the cultivated tobacco plant was bred for characteristics that the ornamental plants were not—that is, use of the leaves for smoking without (immediate, anyway!) dire toxic consequences. All Nicotiana species have toxic properties, but levels of those substances may vary from species to species, so it would be unwise to assume that leaves from the other varieties are ‘safe’ to smoke. For example Nicotiana glauca, a weedy species also called tree tobacco, does not contain nicotine but instead anabasine, which is extremely toxic to humans and animals, according to this weed report from Weed Control in Natural Areas in the Western United States.
According to The North American Guide to Common Poisonous Plants and Mushrooms (Nancy J. Turner and Patrick von Aderkas, Timber Press 2009), “all tobaccos should be considered poisonous to consume (smoking brings its own risks); some have caused fatalities. […] Poisoning through intentional or accidental misuse of nicotine and products containing it is a relatively common occurrence. Related species may contain other toxic alkaloids, chemically similar to nicotine.” For this reason, we suggest that you enjoy Nicotiana sylvestris, N. alata, and other ornamental species for their flowers only. Also avoid growing Nicotiana near plants like tomatoes and others in the Solanaceae which are susceptible to tobacco mosaic virus (in fact, don’t touch those plants after handling Nicotiana, or smoking tobacco products).
Is it safe to eat windfall apples if I cut away any sections that look bad? Or should I only use them in cooking?
If you want to err on the side of caution, you should use them neither for fresh eating nor for cooking. There is a toxin produced by fungi called patulin which may be present in apples which have dropped from the tree and have been lying on the ground, according to University of Minnesota Extension, in a news item dated September 29, 2022. Here is an excerpt:
“Patulin is a mycotoxin produced by molds like Penicillium, Aspergillus and Byssochlamys when apples or other fruits are injured. The toxin is heat-stable, meaning it is resistant to heating, even at pasteurization temperatures. You cannot see or smell or taste the toxin, so it is not possible to know if it is present without laboratory testing. Patulin has been shown to cause serious illness in animals and humans, especially to the nervous systems and might cause problems with blood flow, nausea, vomiting and other symptoms. Because of the risk of the formation of patulin, it is recommended that dropped apples are not used for fresh eating, juicing, baking or canning.”
According to the Ontario Ministry of Agriculture (now archived), there are ways of diminishing the risk, but the processes involved are more appropriate to commercial apple processors than backyard orchardists. Excerpt:
“Current research suggests that varieties with an open calyx are a greater risk for patulin development within the core of the apple. In such a situation, damage to the fruit is not easily detected […]
“Patulin is also destroyed by fermentation, which means it is not found in either alcoholic fruit beverages or vinegar produced by fruit juices. Patulin will however survive the pasteurization process if present in the juice.”
Even if windfall apples do not contain patulin, any fresh cider you make should be pasteurized to prevent bacterial contamination (such as E. coli).