I’ve been fascinated by connection all my life. I love digging into the nature of relationships, whether they’re cultivated or if they’re something handed to us—just by virtue of being born on Planet Earth.

It may be that last part that explains my sort of odd obsession with picking fruit from one wild tree or another (or yet another), or from wild plants. It definitely explains why I wanted to undertake the foraging project I’m on now, and have lately been spending my days walking slowly along the streets of my community, back bent toward the ground, as if looking for a lost glove or perhaps my sanity among the newly sprouting vegetation.

This post represents the first look at the food that’s not hawked by the ad slickies at Madison Avenue but instead is quietly offered by the earth, all year, as the sun waxes and wanes. I’ll be continuing this ‘edible wild’ series from time to time during 2013 and hope you dig it.* Mostly I hope that you’ll get as excited as I am about wild food, that you’ll get jazzed to see what’s growing around you and want to learn about it. Besides the connection we have with our own selves—me to myself and you to yourself—I think the most essential connection on earth is the one we have with the earth; and it’s a connection that, to a great extent, has been broken. That can change.

About my choices above…

My home is the suburban NJ, USA shore, dotted with wide and narrow stretches of lake and consisting of sandy soil. The photo above represents a sampling of the edibles growing wild in my area,** although I’m sure there are many more.

Helpful note 1: Obviously don’t forage too close to roadsides, where dogs might have, ahem, frequented; and be wary of wild edibles growing too near residential properties, as they might have taken on pesticides used there.

Helpful note 2: I am no botanist or horticulturist (to which any of my bio teachers can attest). Among the above foods shown I’ve eaten wild garlic and dandelion only. To learn what else was edible, I sought out online sources for assistance. Above all, before eating it, be sure that what you think is a certain plant is in fact a certain plant.

Please chime in with your additions, clarifications—and recipes, if you’ve got ‘em. And I’d love to hear what grows near you.

Clockwise from top:

Forsythia (Forsythia x intermedia)

Enjoy blossoms raw in salads, cooked, dried or made into a syrup that can be used as a drink mixer.

ediblewildfood.com/blog/2012/04/pruning-forsythia-but-save-the-blossoms/

localkitchenblog.com/2010/04/13/forsythia-syrup/

Clover (Trifolium)

Kind of shadowed; sorry about that. Entirely edible, but seems to benefit from the addition of salt to ease digestion.

Snowdrop (Galanthus spp.)

Not so much a food as a tonic, purported to soothe stomach and joint pain as well as women’s reproductive problems.

gardenguides.com/92486-snowdrop-flowers.html

Wild Garlic (Allium vineale)

What we kids used to call ‘onion grass’ and pull up just to sniff its assertive fragrance—it should smell strongly of onions or garlic. Chop and enjoy raw or cooked. Eat it now, when it’s tender; once summer hits and it’s about to go to seed, the interior of these cylindrical sprouts becomes woody and dry.

ppws.vt.edu/scott/weed_id/allvi.htm

Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale)***

Roots, blossoms and young leaves edible; any longer than a finger’s length and the leaves become too bitter for me (but you might like them like that). This healthy plant can also be used as a tonic. And since Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine is one of my favorite books, one summer I was inspired to steep a bunch of flowers in vodka and a simple syrup, and made a lovely pale yellow liqueur.

Spring Crocus (Crocus Vernus)

Bulb, blossom and stigma all edible. I tried to dig up a bulb for the photo, but the ground was really resistant, and I didn’t want to damage the other flowers to get it.

*Pun totally intentional. Shocker.

**I know plants from the ocean are missing from this picture. I really wanted to include some, but it’s been a cold month so far. Once it gets warmer I’ll see what I can find there.

***Why aren’t there any dandelion blossoms in this picture, Maris? Because I searched across three towns for some and then gave up and took the shot. Guess how many I saw the next few days? I’m not even kidding: It was as if they hid under the ground, giggling, then exploded like popcorn in a Jiffy Pop pan once I uploaded the picture. I even passed a whole lawn of them and considered coming back with my camera, but I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

White Crocus Flower

Crocus  is a genus of flowering plants in the iris family comprising 90 species of perennials growing from corms. Many are cultivated for their flowers appearing in autumn, winter, or spring. Crocuses are native to woodland, scrub and meadows from sea level to alpine tundra in central and southern Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, on the islands of the Aegean, and across Central Asia to western China.

White Crocus Flower Mathewii

Crocus – The early-blooming and long-lived flower of spring

The bulbs (properly, corms) multiply amazingly and can be planted in full sun to partial shade where a dash of early color is wanted. Crocusesnaturalize beautifully in lawns. There are two types of spring Crocus: the species and the hybrids, which are generally listed as selections of C. vernus. The former are notable for their unusual coloration, the latter for their large flowers. Species Crocus generally bloom earlier than the hybrids, so by using both kinds, you prolong the season. We offer several mixtures that are designed to provide loads of bright blooms in early spring. It goes almost without saying that to be effective in a landscape, Crocuses must be used in quantity. Plantings of several thousand bulbs are marvelous, and our volume discounts make this largesse affordable.

The Fall Bloomers

Less well known are the fall-blooming Crocuses, a group of species native to Europe and the Near East whose refined, goblet-shaped flowers appear on 3-5in stems in September and October. We offer a mix of these as well as individual varieties. Saffron Crocus, famous for the color and flavor it brings to food, belongs to this group. Like the fall-blooming Colchicums we offer, the bulbs must be shipped in late summer, so please order early.

Forcing Crocus Bulbs
Crocuses are one of the easiest cold-hardy bulbs to force in pots for indoor bloom. Full instructions accompany your order and are given below.

Project 365 Photos: #62

I can’t resist these sturdy little harbingers of spring. They’re the perfect little flowers, standing straight and proud, even in the frigid temperatures. I defy you to pass a crocus without smiling

It still feels very wintery here in the UK with low temperatures and bitingly icy winds.

So thank goodness for little bursts of colour which are slowly starting to appear in our gardens…in the form of crocuses.

For many people, the appearance of these dainty blooms heralds the beginning of spring.

After the barrenness of the winter, the yellow, white and purple petals of the crocus are just so lovely to see…

A member of the iris family, the name crocus comes from the Greek word Krokos which means saffron.   Saffron is produced from the dried stigmas of an autumn-flowering crocus.

Most crocuses have short grassy leaves that emerge with or after the flower buds. And the flowers are six-petalled short-stemmed goblets. The main spring flowering season is February through to April.

Crocuses, which grow from corms, thrive in the leafy soil found under deciduous trees and love to be planted where they will be in the sunshine at flowering time.

A well-known variety is C. tommasinianus which appears in early spring.  Its flowers vary from lilac to deep purple, sometimes paler on the outside.

Did you know that in the language of flowers, crocus means cheerfulness, youthful and gladness?

(Images : Flickr – kh1234567890 / sirwiseowl / sloanpix / ahisgett)

See Sarah Raven’s article all about crocuses – she went to visit a producer in Holland, and came back so inspired – here she shares her favourite varieties (Crocus chrysanthus ‘Advance’ is stunning!).

Thanks for reading!

In fact, I’m listening to Christmas music as I write this.

I was just going through some old photos on my external hard drive and came across these, taken in early March of this year, and realized…

It’s almost Christmas. And…

then it will be New Year, and right after that will be

SPRING!!

I know, I know…we’ll still have January and February, and the possibility of snow storms and all that to get through,

But Spring is already so close I can feel it.

Wink.

This is an encore of  a previous Haiku Reflections post:

 Prairie Crocus Haiku.

I’ve always loved seeing the first crocus, coming up in the spring. A  burst of delicate mauve in stark contrast to the abundance of damp,brown spring soil.

 I’m not sure there will be many of these pretty gems  to take pics of here in our area, this year. It’s been a very dry winter.  

For now, I will have to be content with file photos here. Hopefully there will be some spring bloom photos to enjoy, at my favorite blogs.

What is your favorite sign of spring?

Original photo courtesy of: Flickr

Whether mid-winter or early autumn
the crocus are unexpected,
surprising even to the observant.

Hidden potential beneath the surface,
an incubation readily triggered
by advancing or retreating light from above.

Waiting with temerity,
to be called forth from earthly grime
and granted reprieve from indefinite interment.

A luminous gift of hope and beauty
borne from a humble bulb;
plain and only dirt adorned.

Summoned, the deep lavender harbinger rises
from sleeping frosted ground in February
or spent topsoil, exhausted in October.

These bold blossoms do not pause
for snow and ice nor hesitate to pierce through
a musty carpet of fallen leaves.

They break free to surge skyward
cloaked in tightly bound brilliance,
spaced strategically to be deployed against the darkness.

Slowly unfurling, the violet petals peel to reveal golden crowns,
royally renouncing the chill of winter’s beginning and end,
staying brazenly alive when little else is.

In the end,  they painfully wilt, deeply bruised and purple
under the Sun’s reflection made manifest;
returning defeated, inglorious, fallen, to dust.

They will rise yet again.

(written on a theme of “Purple”)

Crocus vernus – kevätsahrami

Vihti 23.4.2009