We knew that flower, when I was a kid, as "butter and eggs"--you can see why--but in England it's also known as toadflax, which is a lovely notion--can you imagine the toad linen it produces?
We knew that flower, when I was a kid, as "butter and eggs"--you can see why--but in England it's also known as toadflax, which is a lovely notion--can you imagine the toad linen it produces?
I don't think I knew that's what toadflax looked like, even though I've run across the name. I like your idea of a toad textile industry. I imagine they are delicate and dedicated workers.
In fact, they're completely unrelated botanically: yellow toadflax is Linaria Vulgaris, whereas the blue toadflax can be any of three species in the Nuttallanthus genus.
Snapdragons are apparently flowers in the Antirrhinum genus.
This is fascinating. I assumed all flowers referred to as snapdragon (as I have heard this one pointed out all my life) were of the Antirrhinum kind.
Wikipedia tells me that the two colors of toadflax and the authentic snapdragon are related in that they are all members of the same tribe (did we used to have tribes in Linnaean taxonomy? I don't remember learning them in seventh grade), but not the same genus.
I didn't know any of that and it makes me almost as happy as the plant itself.
It makes me happy too! It's so clear that this little wildflower is similar in shape and action to a snapdragon--it makes sense they're related. I bet if you squeeze any of the blossoms' tiny jaws they will open their mouths--proof of snapdragon.
No, tribes are fairly new, I remember there being a huge to-do about five-six years ago because all the biologists were complaining about having to reprint all of everything.
I remember there being a huge to-do about five-six years ago because all the biologists were complaining about having to reprint all of everything.
That is both neat and aggravating. I remember when clades flipped over into common, museum-display knowledge, but I had missed the emergence of tribes.
Oh interesting! My grandmother referred to a kind of yellow flower as butter and eggs, but I've never been totally sure which kind. So I just think of it every time I see a wildflower of the right sort of yellow.
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We knew that flower, when I was a kid, as "butter and eggs"--you can see why--but in England it's also known as toadflax, which is a lovely notion--can you imagine the toad linen it produces?
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I don't think I knew that's what toadflax looked like, even though I've run across the name. I like your idea of a toad textile industry. I imagine they are delicate and dedicated workers.
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It doesn't look very similar, does it!
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Not at all! I would have thought the blue was some kind of harebell.
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Snapdragons are apparently flowers in the Antirrhinum genus.
As for flax, it's the genus Linum
God I love Google.
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This is fascinating. I assumed all flowers referred to as snapdragon (as I have heard this one pointed out all my life) were of the Antirrhinum kind.
Wikipedia tells me that the two colors of toadflax and the authentic snapdragon are related in that they are all members of the same tribe (did we used to have tribes in Linnaean taxonomy? I don't remember learning them in seventh grade), but not the same genus.
I didn't know any of that and it makes me almost as happy as the plant itself.
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That is both neat and aggravating. I remember when clades flipped over into common, museum-display knowledge, but I had missed the emergence of tribes.
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For some reason, I'm imagining a toad Ophelia, mad in white linen. With a garland of butter-and-eggs.
Nine
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Toad Ophelia would, I hope, swim rather than drown, and get herself to a nice hollow log without any mad princes.
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Denmark can keep him!
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