Here it is mid-September and the landscape has started to look decidedly fall-like.
Muted browns and pastel yellows are tinged with splashes of orange and drops of red, creating a wonderful palette of artistic impressions. Asters coloured white and lavender are displayed alongside the deep yellow goldenrods, and inside ourselves we know that autumn is once again settling in.
Nature gives us a final hurrah by providing two flowers that wait until the dying moments of summer before blooming: the delicate fringed gentian and its cousin the closed gentian. Both are found in damp meadows, and both are a delight to discover.
Growing about knee-high, their blossoms may be concealed behind the thick stems of asters or the arching branch of a dogwood shrub. But once one is discovered a pause in your gait may well reveal a plethora of plants hidden nearby.
Being blue they do stand out once the surrounding vegetation is pushed aside. Oh, they like the same habitat as poison ivy, so be careful when pushing aside that surrounding vegetation!
And what a blue they can be. The fringed gentian only opens its petals on sunny days, so finding one under an overcast sky may be challenging. But give them a ray or two of sunshine and "pop" out comes the frilly petals.
Closed gentian start off looking about the same, being an urn-shaped blossom with a pale blue lip but they never open fully, always appearing closed and tight-lipped.
I've read, in a couple of older reference books, that the closed gentian self-pollinates due to the impossibly small opening at the tip of the blossom. More recent volumes admit that only bumblebees are strong enough to spread open the tightly wound petals and enter the blossom (which I have had opportunity to witness). However, there are those who have observed small flies slipping into the blue chamber to regale in the nectar and pollen held within.
Gentians appear in ancient literature and in medicinal remedies, apparently having been useful for stimulating the appetite and aiding in digestion. The leaves, when applied to an open wound, are said to act as a refrigerant by cooling the inflammation.
Their name comes from the story of King Gentius of Illyria (the country where, I'm sure you will recall, Shakespeare set his play Twelfth Night), who fired an arrow into the air and asked the Gods to show him a cure for a plague that was affecting his people. The arrow landed in a patch of flowers of what are now called gentians, and behold a tea made of the plant saved his people.
This story gives rise to a number of fact-checking questions: what were the blue flowers called before he shot them with the arrow? Did anyone question his desperation as leader, opting to let a random landing of an arrow guide their entire kingdom?
And just how was this methodology to protect them from the advancing Roman army? (Hint: it didn't.) He may not have been re-elected, but at least he had an attractive flower named after himself.
Although we can find these two species of gentian growing in our neck of the woods, apparently a trip to the Alps in Europe is mandatory for those wishing to see gentians displayed in ultimate gentian glory.
To quote from a reference accredited to one Ms. Blanchan, "Fifteen species of gentians have been gathered during a half-hour walk in Switzerland where the pastures are spread with sheets of blue. Indeed, one can little realize the beauty of these heavenly flowers who has not seen them in the Alps."
Oh great, I sense that a percentage of those who just read this have minimized this screen and are now calling their travel agent about Swiss Air.
A check in one of the many botanical references that line my bookshelf reveals that there are 20 species of gentians that can be found in the Canadian Rocky Mountains, which beats Switzerland by five, so, you know, maybe consider spending your money closer to home.
Have you heard of Bill Bryant, the poet/lawyer from Massachusetts? Old William was also smitten by the beauty of gentians and wrote a lovely poem to commemorate them, back around 1830, herewith a portion:
"Thou waitest late, and com'st alone
When woods are bare and birds have flown,
And frosts and shortening days portend
The aged year is near his end.
Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
Look through its fringes to the sky, --
Blue -- blue-- as if that sky let fall
A flower from its cerulean wall."
Bryant has also penned several other notable poems, be sure to research him and read further.
And so the gentians are in bloom and summer's end is near. Not a bad way to end a floral show. If you go looking for gentians, wear rubber boots, be aware of poison ivy, and you can probably leave the archery equipment at home.
