The Literary Gardener – April 2016

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling, dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?
– Shel Silverstein, Forgotten Language, 1974

I believe Shel Silverstein is describing a forgotten language spoken between flowers and children who, as yet unhurried in life, spend delightful time conversing with nature. Grownups in our busy, modern world lose this important connection, believing they mustn’t be bothered with such frivolities. However, it wasn’t always this way. For the past several years, I have been fascinated by the language of flowers fashioned by adults, who from ancient times have relied on nature’s flora to express their sentiments and adorn their rituals and celebrations.

Indeed, gravesites from 60,000 years ago have been unearthed, containing plant pollen alongside the tools and ornaments of early humans. These plant remnants suggest that flowers even then were associated with death and rebirth, a thought preserved in the funeral wreaths of today.

Ancient Greeks and Romans created dozens of stories about the meaning of flowers, many of which explore various facets of the universal language of love—the self-love of Narcissus, the forgiving love of Hyacinthus, the thwarted love of Io (Viola). In April, the Romans held a week-long festival honoring Flora, goddess of flowers and fertility. A precursor to today’s May Day, the raucous atmosphere of Floralia was more reminiscent of Mardi Gras.

Around 1753, Swiss botanist Carl Linnaeus introduced the now familiar system of plant classification and the use of binomials to identify names for each plant’s genus and species. Linnaeus used Latin names for plants, thus preserving their age-old stories. At the same time, availability of new plant species proliferated due to numerous expeditions to the Far East and the New World (Americas).

Nineteenth-century Victorians were captivated by such an explosion of newly accessible plants, as well as by the Linnaean system of classifying plants by their reproductive organs—considered highly-risqué at the time. They began growing a wide variety of flowering plants in their gardens and conservatories. Combining botanical science with the romance and restrained courtship traditions of the times, Victorians developed the language of flowers, or florigraphy, into a fine art.

Flowers, herbs, shrubs and trees were all assigned meanings borrowed from Greek and Roman mythology and classic literature (Shakespeare used plant symbolism more than 200 times in his 16th-century works). Meanings were also derived from the characteristics of plants and their traditional healing and culinary uses. Messages were conveyed between family, friends and lovers with bouquets of flowers carefully selected for their meanings, which prompted Lord Byron to write, “By all those token flowers that tell, what words can never speak so well.”

The language of flowers reached its height during the Victorian era; however, afterwards flower symbolism was revived during periods of war. During WWI, for example, red poppies came to signify remembrance of fallen soldiers. “Flower power” symbolized passive resistance during the 1960s’ opposition movement to the Vietnam War.

Today, sweethearts still send red roses at Valentine’s Day to say “I love you” (although the traditional Valentine’s Day flower was the violet), and we still kiss beneath the mistletoe at Christmas time (ancient Druids used mistletoe to signify a meeting place where no violence could occur). However, most of the symbolism of flowers has been forgotten, much like the childhood conversations with flowers so missed by Shel Silverstein.

Forgotten, perhaps, but not lost. Vanessa Diffenbaugh’s novel, “The Language of Flowers” (2012), was a New York Times Bestseller, and the book’s companion flower dictionary by Mandy Kirkby (2011) features the stories and meanings of hundreds of flowers, as well as recommendations for combining flowers for special occasions.

So why is it important to preserve the language of flowers? As a language arts teacher, I value the utility and beauty of a language that, like all languages, is steeped in tradition and accumulated knowledge, yet has continued to adapt to society’s changes. I keep a sign by my desk that reads, “Your story matters,” and I share this wisdom with my writing students. The stories of our flowers matter, too, because they reveal so much about the long journey traveled by plants and people together.

Come visit me at the Spring Garden Fair on April 30 and May 1 at the Jackson County Fairgrounds. I’ll show you how I create themed container gardens I call “potted poems” by combining living plants that convey meanings based on the language of flowers.