I have been accused of liking weeds, and I suppose if one were to visit my garden right now, it might appear I am cultivating them. Not all weeds can be hated though. Queen Anne’s Lace is one of those “weeds,” and right now she rules the side of our roads with her lacy white flowers, bestowing her favor on passing cars.
Far from her ancestral home on the Iranian plateau, she is known as Daucus carota to botanists, and her kingdom now spreads across most of the world. She is a biennial like the pansies and foxgloves in our gardens, which means individual plants live only two years. Her fertile seeds though have carried on through the centuries making her reign the longest among the modern monarchies.
If you were to pull the car over and dig her up, you would find a long slender pale yellow taproot that resembles a carrot. In fact, another common name for her is Wild Carrot, and all of the plant parts look and smell like carrots. Though some dispute it, Daucus carota, Queen Anne’s Lace, is believed to be the progenitor of the orange carrot we put on our salads and in our soups.
Botanists believe the cultivated carrot came from a subspecies of Daucus carota, originally found in Afghanistan. It began its westward spread into Europe in the Middle Ages. It’s color was actually purple, but some mutant yellow and white forms began to appear as its cultivation continued.
The yellow forms were actually preferred by cooks because the purple forms left their soups and sauces an unappetizing color. It was the Dutch who bred the orange color into it in the 17th century, perhaps because that was the color of the Royal Dutch Family.
The Queen’s many small white flowers are arranged in clusters packed closely together in a flat-topped umbrella shape known technically as a compound umbel. To me, it resembles a snowflake. To Queen Anne, Queen of England from 1702 to 1714, it resembled lace, and legend has it that she challenged the ladies in her court to make a lace as delicate as the Wild Carrot, thus Daucus carota came to be known as Queen Anne’s Lace.
It has been said that Queen Anne joined in the competition and pricked her finger. A drop of blood fell upon her lace, and since then a single dark red flower is often found in the center of the umbel. Most of us never notice it though as we whizz by in our cars. What the actual origin or the function of that flower is not really known. Some say it attracts insects to pollinate the flowers, but those plants without the red flower seem to be pollinated just fine.
Botanists put Queen Anne’s Lace in the Umbelliferae family. Other members of the family include familiar foods and herbs such as celery, parsnips, fennel, parsley, cilantro, and cumin. It also contains a very poisonous member Conium maculatum, Poison Hemlock, famous for being used to execute the Greek philosopher Socrates.
It has occasionally been mistaken for Queen Anne’s lace by amateur foragers with dire consequences. Just remember should you ever need to forage, it doesn’t smell like carrots. And just harvest the Queen’s first year roots; otherwise, you’ll be munching on carrot flavored shoestrings according to Steve McKee of the Gorman Nature Center.
Another common name for the Queen is Bird’s Nest. That is because after pollination the umbel begins to fold inward taking on the shape of a bird’s nest. As the seeds form, the structure begins to dry out. Once the seeds are mature, it falls off and blows down the road like a tumbleweed, dispersing its seed.
As I drove home along the backroads today, it seemed as if Queen Anne’s Lace was everywhere. Her seemingly endless thirst for territory does make her undesirable in a garden, but as long she remains along the roads and the edges of woods and cornfields, I say “Long Live the Queen!”
Since his days as forced labor in his mother’s garden, John has learned to enjoy gardening and has actually made a career out of it. From the backyards of Columbus to the rooftops of Manhattan, John has soiled his hands. Former Head Gardener at Kingwood Center, John still gets his hands dirty in the local community. You can contact him at jmakley@centurylink.net.
