This plant blossoms in May, and is found on rocky hill-sides. Its name refers to the relish with which bears are supposed to devour its fruit.
False Solomon’s Seal.
Smilacina racemosa. Lily Family.
Stem.—Usually curving, one to three feet long. Leaves.—Oblong, veiny. Flowers.—Greenish-white, small, in a terminal raceme. Perianth.—Six-parted. Stamens.—Six. Pistil.—One. Fruit.—A pale red berry speckled with purple.
A singular lack of imagination is betrayed in the common name of this plant. Despite a general resemblance to the true Solomon’s seal, and the close proximity in which the two are constantly found, S. racemosa, has enough originality to deserve an individual title. The position of the much smaller flowers is markedly different. Instead of drooping beneath the stem they terminate it, having frequently a pleasant fragrance, while the berries of late summer are pale red, flecked with purple. It puzzles one to understand why these two plants should so constantly be found growing side by side—so close at times that they almost appear to spring from one point. The generic name is from smilax, on account of a supposed resemblance between the leaves of this plant and those which belong to that genus.
PLATE XI
FALSE SOLOMON’S SEAL.—S. racemosa.
Maple-leaved Viburnum. Dockmackie. Arrow-wood.
Viburnum acerifolium. Honeysuckle Family.
A shrub from three to six feet high. Leaves.—Somewhat three-lobed, resembling those of the maple, downy underneath. Flowers.—White, small, in flat-topped clusters. Calyx.—Five-toothed. Corolla.—Spreading, five-lobed. Stamens.—Five. Pistil.—One. Fruit.—Berry-like, crimson, turning purple.
Perhaps our flowering shrubs contribute even more to the beauty of the early summer woods and fields than the smaller plants. Along many of the lanes which intersect the woodlands the viburnums are conspicuous in June. When the blossoms of the dockmackie have passed away we need not be surprised if we are informed that this shrub is a young maple. There is certainly a resemblance between its leaves and those of the maple, as the specific name indicates. To be sure, the first red, then purple berries, can scarcely be accounted for, but such a trifling incongruity would fail to daunt the would-be wiseacre of field and forest. With Napoleonic audacity he will give you the name of almost any shrub or flower about which you may inquire. Seizing upon some feature he has observed in another plant, he will immediately christen the one in question with the same title—somewhat modified, perhaps—and in all probability his authority will remain unquestioned. There is a marvellous amount of inaccuracy afloat in regard to the names of even the commonest plants, owing to this wide-spread habit of guessing at the truth and stating a conjecture as a fact.