The nature of things

Toadflax

LONG, slender pokers of the purple toadflax, Linaria purpurea, are popping up all over the garden right now, as they’ve done for several weeks and will continue to do so for a long while yet. A prolific self-sower loved by bees, sometimes, it makes fortuitous pairings with other flowers such as poppies and foxgloves; elsewhere, it brightens up green patches with its thigh-high, amethyst spires.

Originating in Italy, it long ago escaped from gardens to colonise wasteground, railway embankments and waysides, often springing out of the mortar in walls.

Its brighter cousin, the common toadflax, Linaria vulgaris (pictured), is native to these isles and much of Europe and just as welcome, holding aloft its cheerful spurred blooms of yellow and orange.

Long ago, people’s observation of the flowers inspired some imaginative folk names, such as weasel-snout, pig’s chops, lion’s mouth, devil’s head and squeeze-jaw, all referring to the way you can open the flower’s ‘lips’ by squeezing the sides, as you would a snap-dragon. Butterand-eggs charmingly speaks for the flower’s colouring.

Bumblebees, butterflies and moths heavy enough to open the bottom lip can poke a long proboscis down the spur tube to sip nectar, at the same time performing a service to the flower by brushing on the pollen and transferring it, enabling seed development. KBH

Illustration by Bill Donohoe