LADY’S SLIPPER ORCHID

Cypripedium spp.

ROSEMARY GLADSTAR

I moved to Sage Mountain in central Vermont in the late 1980s. A farm child of the fertile northern California countryside, complete with apple orchards and oceans, old redwood forests, and weather that the great plant wizard Luther Burbank felt was as perfect as anywhere on earth, I took planting in February for granted and harvesting in November as a fact of life. Having landed quite suddenly, almost by accident it seemed, midway through life, on a large granite outcrop in the northeastern forest (Zone 3), my life as an herbalist took a radical shift. Aside from having to relearn the rules of gardening and adapt to “arctic” land, there was the matter of learning an entirely new ecosystem and the plants and animals it supported. I was full of delight, a child again, as I came to know my new plant neighbors, many of them favorite medicinal herbs I had used all my life but had never seen growing in their native habitat. The mountain ranges here are ancient, ground down through time, and the forests, though resilient and hardy yet, are worn by the continuous cuttings of many generations of wood users. The plant communities reflect this harsh reality; still, they thrive. I felt wonder in getting to know my new surroundings and, throughout the short but riotous growing season, made new plant discoveries every day.

But by far the greatest event was my discovery of the bog, a calcareous pool of shallow, slowrunning water that steeped from the cedar grove. We had moved to this rugged terrain in late fall, only a breath or two away from winter. The colorful lushness of the foliage’s seasonal spiral dance to earth had past. Shortly after we had settled into our two-room log cabin with an old woodstove and a pile of books, we were hit by the worst—or best, depending on your outlook—snowstorm ever known in these parts then or since. When spring rolled around several long months later, like every other Vermonter I was hungry for the green. It was on one of those early-spring forays that I first discovered the bog. The water filtered between layers of ancient peat moss and supported a rich array of bog and purple-stemmed aster (Aster nemoralis, A. puniceua), spotted joe-pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum), and a variety of sedges, cotton grasses, and rushes. This was my first encounter with sundew (Drosera rotundifolia), bugleweed (Lycopus uniflorus), and a host of other bog-loving plants. Yes, I was in bog heaven. But one plant definitely piqued my curiosity. Still unfurling its large, soft, downy leaves—which looked, except for the down, much like false hellebore—it was scattered throughout the severalacre bog in significant clusters.

I watched for the flower. By the second week in June, still early spring in these parts, the first blossoms began to open. I knew in a moment the treasure that was here and only then began to fully understand the relationship and responsibility I would have with this land. Here, unbeknownst to me when we purchased those 500 acres of wilderness, was one of New England’s treasures, the showy pink lady’s slipper (Cypripedium reginae). Rare, endangered, protected in every state within its native range, the showy pink lady’s slipper was hunted to near extinction by the mid-1900s by herbalists and Eclectics for its gentle, soothing root. Little was known at the time of its amazingly slow reproductive process or the fact that the population stands that were being harvested would never recover their original grandness no matter how careful the harvesting or ethical the wildcrafter.

When I first opened my herb shop in northern California in 1972, the lady’s slipper, though officially classified as an endangered wildflower, was still employed in herbal medicine and sold commonly in herb stores. There was no mention of its protected status, and we herbalists certainly weren’t aware of such issues at that time. Because it was included in many formulas of the early Eclectics, physiomedicalists, and herb doctors, it was readily adopted into our formulas; you’ll occasionally still see a nervine formula containing lady’s slipper on the herb store shelf. Upon inquiring, you’ll be assured that these products contain lady’s slippers from cultivated sources. Part of the problem, of course, is that lady’s slippers belong to a large family, so some confusion could arise over the variety. However, all lady’s slippers are at best challenging, and at worst impossible to cultivate. Those used primarily in herbal medicine (Cypripedium reginae, C. acaule, C. calceolus) are among the more difficult to cultivate. Though possible to cultivate with great care and manipulation, it raises the question: Why would we want to introduce something so rare in the wild and so challenging to grow into our American materia medica? Especially when there are equally effective common weeds and cultivated plants that easily do what lady’s slipper is purported to do?

In the ensuing years of discovery of this great and wild land I call my home, I have made many discoveries here that serve to further connect me to the land. I have found stands of bloodroot, blue cohosh, an occasional (though rare) colony of black cohosh, more lobelia than I’ve ever seen elsewhere, and mossy areas interwoven with the tiny stitches of goldthread. And to my great delight, I have found the other two lady’s slippers (Cypripedium acaule, C. calceulis) that were commonly employed in early American medicine. When I look out my back door, our woods are filled with trillium, wild leeks, and spikenard, all fairly common plants in these parts. Yet I’m tempted less to pick them than I might have been a quarter of a century ago. Each time I take down my collecting basket, I think about how much of this wild plant must be harvested to make a small mound on the bottom, about how many plants must come with me to make a quart of good medicine. I think of all of my friends, their friends, our students, and their students, all with their collecting baskets and their quarts of medicine. And I think of the large industry that feeds off these “common” wild natives and how many tons of plant material it takes to fill the bottoms of their baskets. Often my thoughts inadvertently turn to the buffalo and passenger pigeon and marsh hen. And more often than not on those collecting days when I might have once headed into the woodlands, I generally head, basket in hand, to the garden instead.

BOTANICAL FEATURES

In 1856 Thoreau wrote, “Everywhere now in dry pitch pine woods stand the red lady’s slipper over the red pine leaves on the forest floor, rejoicing in June. Behold their rich striped red, their drooping sack.”

This is a plant that elicits poetry and stories from all who have the good fortune to come across it. Even modern technical descriptions of lady’s slippers often lapse into the poetic vernacular: “No one expects the queen’s slipper to be common, but all should respect the corners of the castle where it lives.”1 And Mrs. W. S. Dana reminisces in How to Know the Wild Flowers, “This is a blossom whose charm never wanes. It seems to be touched with the spirit of the deep woods. I recall a mountain lake where the steep cliffs rise from the water’s edge; here and there, on a tiny shelf strewn with pine needles, can be seen a pair of large veined leaves above which, in early June, the pink balloonlike blossoms floats from its slender scape.”

There are many species of orchids—more than twenty thousand, in fact—and they can be found around the world in habitats varying from desert to rain forest, in trees, on the ground, and even underground! The following describes three of our native orchids most commonly used in traditional herbal medicine; they are the species herbalists are currently most concerned about due to habitat destruction and inappropriate harvesting for medicinal purposes.

Lady’s slippers are among the most spectacular of all wildflowers, almost shocking in their beauty. All species of lady’s slippers, whether growing in bogs or woodlands, are shy, quiet-loving plants that seek out homesites in undisturbed natural habitats. Pink lady’s slipper or moccasin flower, Cypripedium acaule, is found growing in dry, acidic forests under pines, hemlocks, and other conifers. It is the only Cypripedium with basal leaves only; the stalks are leafless. The flower stalk rises to a height of 8 to 20 inches, with the two large leaves at ground level reaching 4 to 8 inches long. These two distinctive basal leaves are downy, large, and deeply plaited; even when not in flower they are quite noticeable in the woodlands. As with all orchids, the flowers are striking, emitting a slight but fragrant scent, attractive to its pollinator, the native bumblebee. The large dark pink sac, or pouch—quite sensual even to those with tame imaginations—makes it a striking candidate for a botanical erotica poster. It is found growing in decreasing frequency in sandy or rocky woods, Newfoundland to Manitoba, south to North Carolina and Tennessee, and west to Minnesota. “All who have found it in secluded haunts will sympathize that each specimen is a rarity, even though he should find a hundred to an acre,” Mrs. W. S. Dana wrote nearly a hundred years ago in How to Know the Wildflowers.

Showy lady’s slipper, Cypripedium reginae (queen or royal), considered by many to be the most stunning of all our native orchids—and perhaps the most temperamental—is found growing in calcareous swamps, peat bogs, and open wet woodlands from Newfoundland to Ontario and as far south as Georgia. The luscious pink slipper is formed of white, ovate sepals, the lateral ones united their entire length to form the large pouch or sac. This sac has been likened to a “funhouse tunnel for bees.”2 The sepals are round or oval and waxy white. Variegated crimson and pink stripes cascade over the large white inflated lip. The flowers are supported by a stout stem from 1 to 3 feet high with large elliptic-shaped downy leaves, 3 to 8 inches long. Both the leaves and stems are covered with soft white down, and the flowers, borne as many as three to a stem, are 1½ to 2 inches across. A colony of these showy pink ladies growing in a bog emits a sense of deep peace far more effective than any amount of nervine tincture sold in a bottle.

As the name implies, yellow lady’s slipper, Cypripedium calceolus and C. pubscens, has a bright yellow “slipper,” or sac, and is found growing in rich woods and thickets from Nova Scotia to Ontario and Minnesota, Nebraska, and south to Alabama. The large, showy flowers grow on a strong tall stem, 1½ to 2½ feet high, occasionally reaching a height of 3 feet. The flower stalks generally bear one to three blossoms each. The leaves are oval or elliptic, 3 to 6 inches long, grow up most of the stem, and end in a pointed tip. The sepals are ovate-lanceolate and are usually longer than the lip. The narrow, twisted petals are purple striped, which contrasts beautifully with the yellow flowers. Purple and yellow are traditional colors of royalty and this flower, simple though its lifestyle may be in the heart of the forest, is nothing less than an elegant member of a royal family.

HISTORICAL AND MEDICINAL USES

Author’s Note: All references are historical, because no lady’s slippers are recommended for use in any form at this time due to the difficulties of cultivation and habitat loss. There are other plants that serve as excellent analogues or substitutes and work as well, if not better, than the Cypripediums.

The name orchid derives from the Greek orchis or “testicle,” and in early days orchids and the sac were prized as aphrodisiacs. Timothy Coffey in his wonderful reference The History and Folklore of North American Wildflowers cites two early references to the use of orchids as aphrodisiacs, though truly, I’m certain the suggestive appearance of the flower has more to do with its amorous reputation than any of its chemical constituents. In 1500 the German herbalist Braunschweig wrote: “In the mornynge and at nyght dronke of the same water at eche tyme an ounce and a half causeth great hete, therefore it giveth lust unto the works of generacyon and multiplicacyon of sperm.” And in 1672 Josselyn commented, “I once took notice of a wanton woman’s compounding of the solid roots of this plant with wine, for an amorous cup; which wrought the desired effect.”

Lady’s slippers were highly valued as an herbal medicine by the Native people, who used the plant as a calming agent; its use was adopted by the early settlers. Its most common name during early American colonization, American valerian, points to its nervine qualities. It was primarily used to treat all manners of nerve disorders, from headaches to nerve stress and epilepsy. Principal constituents that have been identified are volatile oil, tannin, gallic acid, resins, glucose, starch, and inorganic salts. Lady’s slipper acquired an undisputed reputation as a safe, nontoxic herb, with no side effects, and thus was considered an excellent medicine for nerve stress and chronic nerve debility. It was frequently used for young children with nerve disorders and specifically for teething.

Joseph Meyer in The Herbalist (1918) classified its actions as tonic, antispasmodic, and diaphoretic and considered it a mild, effective tonic for nervous stress. Dr. Christopher, a well-known herb doctor who had great influence on American herbalism through the 1960s and 1970s commonly called the plant nerve root and considered it in his book The School of Natural Healing “almost a pure nervine and relaxant. Its action is slow, yet it influences the entire nervous system.” It was a favorite remedy of Dr. Christopher’s for hysteria, convulsions, nervous exhaustion, and “female weakness,” and he included it in several of his well-known formulas. Dr. Felter also felt that lady’s slipper was an “excellent tonic for weak women and nervous children” and found it effective for dispelling gloom (behold the beauty!) and inducing “a calm and cheerful state of mind.”3 It seemed to be a favorite remedy of early doctors and herbalists, and frequent references of its affinity for “women’s hysteria” and “disorders of weak women” can be found in the old medical textbooks, providing insight into not only the importance of this plant but also the pervading viewpoint of women at the time. My favorite such reference is Dr. Felter’s statement concerning menopausal women: “We have been able to accomplish more with it than any drug except pulsatilla in worry, with fear of disaster or insanity, in women passing through this phase of life.”4

PREPARATION AND DOSAGE

A perfectly safe remedy, lady’s slipper could be taken in large dosages, if necessary, with no ill side effects. “They have a peculiar, slightly bitter, and rather nauseous taste, and a somewhat unpleasant odor. Alcohol or boiling water take up their virtues, which, however, are impaired by boiling”5 The root was generally infused as tea, because the volatile oils were thought to be easily destroyed by decocting (boiling). One teaspoon of the dried root was steeped for anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour in hot water. One wineglassful, three or four times a day was the dose recommended by most of the early herb doctors.

Dr. Christopher felt, too, that the root was best infused. However, he did recommend a decoction (4 ounces of lady’s slipper to 1 quart of water simmered for an hour or longer on low heat) with a suggested dose of 1 tablespoon diluted in a wineglassful of water three or four times daily. John K. Scudder frequently recommended a soothing syrup for irritated children made from the yellow lady’s slipper, lavender, and lobelia, and felt it was especially useful during teething. He did comment that if nausea occurred, lobelia should be lessened or omitted.

A favorite method of preparation of lady’s slipper was a liquid extract and/or tincture, which was officially titled Specific Medicine Cypripedium6 and administered in doses of from 5 to 60 drops. Specific medicine was the term applied to standardized preparations made from alcohol by the Eclectic doctors of the early 1900s. They were “designed for kindly therapeutic effect rather than for intense physiological activity.”7

Lady’s slipper was also powdered and combined with other herbal powders in various formulas. A favorite formula of Dr. Christopher’s for seizure disorders was a combination of lady’s slipper powder combined with powders of goldenseal root, lobelia seeds, and cayenne. These herbs, two of which are also considered at risk to date, were mixed in equal proportions and encapsulated in #2 capsules. The recommended dose was one capsule every three hours if seizures were imminent. Otherwise, one capsule twice daily, morning and evening, was his recommended dosage.

But perhaps the most effective medicine of all “made” from lady’s slippers is found simply in its company and distilled at the place of its origin—the fields, bogs, and thickets that it once populated so abundantly. Here, in the quiet of its home, there emanates a deep and warming peace, likened to that found in the finest of nature’s cathedrals, the old-growth forests. Lady’s slipper speaks its medicine most clearly, inviting the weary to sit, rest, and drink of the beauty of the moment. The very air around these elegant flowers smells of a sweetness that is almost indiscernible. Not a fragrance, but a sweetness and a stillness so profound that many weary travelers on life’s path, discovering a stand of lady’s slippers, find their nerves soothed simply by drinking in their presence; they travel on refreshed and renewed.

PROPAGATION AND CULTIVATION

“Cross fertilization,” says Darwin, “results in offspring which vanquish the offspring of self-fertilization in the struggle for existence.” The Orchid family demonstrates this more clearly than any other group of plants, for no other plant family has taken more elaborate precautions against self-pollination nor developed a more specialized mechanism to attract pollinating insects. And its ingenious techniques have certainly proved successful; an estimated twenty to twenty-five thousand species grow worldwide, each with its own highly developed and specialized mechanism that induces insects to enter into its pure lusciousness. Were it not for human ignorance, sometimes born simply out of love for beauty (picking wild orchid blossoms for the table, or transplanting to the garden, for instance), the Orchid family would continue to thrive in great abundance.

Though many species are still abundant, of the several species used for medicinal purposes through the early 1900s, all are in danger of disappearing due to habitat destruction and unscrupulous collecting of roots for propagation (it seldom survives transplanting) and/or medicinal purposes. Listen to this poetry written in 1900 by Neltje Blanchan:

The fissure down the front of the pink lady’s slipper is not so wide that a bee must use some force to push against its elastic sloping sides and enter the large banquet chamber where he finds generous entertainment secreted among the fine white hairs in the upper part. Presently he has feasted enough. Now one can hear him buzzing about inside trying to find a way out. Toward two little gleams of light seen at the end of the passageway beyond the nectary hairs, he at length finds his way. Narrower and narrower grows the passage until it would seem as if he could never struggle through; nor can he until his back has rubbed along the sticky, overhanging stigma, which is directed forward and placed there for the express purpose of combing out the pollen he has brought from another flower on his back. The imported pollen having been safely removed, he still must struggle on toward freedom through one of the narrow openings, where an anther almost blocks his way. As he works outward, this anther plasters his back with yellow granular pollen as a parting gift and away he flies to another lady’s slipper.8

This phenomenon is described much more succinctly in the Stokes’s Guide to Enjoying Wildflowers: “The lady slipper flower is like a funhouse tunnel for the bees, with a one-way entrance, a big chamber with a bright exit sign, and some sticky sweet hairs on the way.”

This ingenious method of pollination has one major flaw. There is no sweet nectar to reward the bee for its hard work. So after a few tumbles down the tunnel of love, the bee gives up on the lady’s slippers and finds its way to albeit less attractive, but more substantial finds. To ensure good pollination rates, a healthy population of bumblebees in the vicinity is a must. Smaller-sized insects slip too easily through the tunnel and escape the pollen trap set by the ingenious orchids. Once pollinated, the journey of survival has only just begun.

A single lady’s slipper seedpod will contain between ten and twenty thousand minute seeds that have been likened to a “mote of dust on the wind.” Adapted for wind dispersal, they are remarkably light, and unlike most other seeds, they do not contain their own endosperm, or food reserve. Thus, in order to survive, the seedling must find a dependable source of nourishment during this fragile stage of development. This is where magic and science merge. An odd symbiotic relationship between the lady’s slipper and potentially lethal (to plants, anyway) pathogenic fungi has developed over eons of time. In order for the seed to survive, it forms a small corm that waits in dormancy until “invaded” by certain symbiotic soil fungi. The lady’s slipper seed may lie in waiting for several years before the right mycorrhiza comes along. Once penetrated, the seedlings feed on this soil fungus called orchid mycorrhizae (myco means “fungus,” and rhiza, “root”), digesting it to obtain the nourishment needed for growth. More than six species of Rhizoctonia, or soil fungus, necessary to the growth of lady’s slippers have been identified thus far.

Bill Cullina of the New England Wildflower Society speculates on the fact that these soil fungi are pathogenic, or disease causing, when they infect nonorchid species, yet have developed a beneficial relationship to the orchids. “It may be that in the distant past these fungi were parasites on orchid seeds, but eventually the seeds developed ways to resist and control this parasitism to their own benefit. In effect, the seeds have reversed roles, now becoming parasites of the fungus.” However, the relationship between fungus and plant remains a tenuous one, indeed. The Rhizoctonia, though beneficial to lady’s slippers at this juncture in evolution, is still a pathogen and, given the opportunity, would happily destroy the tiny seedling. To protect itself, at seed’s emergence, the tiny plantlet immediately begins to produce a fungicide to keep the mycorrhizae in check. The relationship between fungus and orchid is a slow underground waltz witnessed only by the creepy-crawlies of the soil world. Over a two-year period the plantlet develops slowly underground, nourished by its tenuous relationship to the potentially deadly mycorrhizae. As leafs and rootlets develop, one spring day in its third year of growth, the tiny orchid breaks ground, reaches toward the light, and begins photosynthesizing on its own.

Thousands upon thousands of these gorgeous and sensitive native wildflowers have been dug from their ancient home grounds, transplanted to habitats they couldn’t possibly survive in, and have slowly—or quickly—died out. This practice still continues, undercover, because they are protected from harvesters in most of their native range. Luckily headway has been made in the past few years in the propagation of the lady’s slipper species. And with the right conditions, a bit of luck, and some obliging mycorrhizae, you too can cultivate a garden of exotic slippers. One of my favorite stories, which appeared a few years ago in Garden Design, tells of a New Hampshire high school girl who, unaware of the difficulty of propagating lady’s slippers, decided to take it on as a high school science project. Discovering that the showy pink lady’s slipper was on the endangered list and could only be found in one spot in the entire state of New Hampshire, April Donovuolu, under the guidance of her high school science teacher, decided to tissue-culture it for her science project.

How did she do it? Last spring, with fellow students Tyler King and Katie Sokolski, April won second prize at the prestigious 1996 International Science and Engineering Fair, for successfully cloning a ladies slipper—astonishing the orchid world in the process. By applying rigorous scientific techniques, under the guidance of their teacher, the students succeeded with unheard of two-week seed germination. Now they have 8,000 babies in flasks that will be eventually planted in the New Hampshire woods.

To fully appreciate this phenomenon, you must recognize that for the past century professors, scientists, biologists, and botanists have dedicated a great deal of their lives’ work to the process of lady’s slipper propagation with little success. That a child should succeed speaks, perhaps, of some mysterious force in the plant kingdom that as yet goes widely unrecognized.

Following are cultivation guidelines for three of the lady’s slippers that were commonly used in herbal medicine. Lucky enough to have a wonderful abundance of all three species growing naturally in the woodlands and bogs where I live, I’ve not attempted cultivation myself. So these guidelines are gleaned from others’ experiences. The number one priority, if attempting to grow your own, is to be absolutely certain that your growing stock does not come from wild sources. Plants started from nursery-grown stock have a much better chance of survival, and it is illegal to harvest lady’s slippers in the wild.

There are also a number of resources available these days to help you successfully grow a garden of lady’s slippers. The New England Wildflower Society is perhaps one of the best and provides cultivation guides as well as planting stock. A Web site that features extensive growing techniques as well as cultivated planting stock is included in the references (at the end of this chapter), and the UpS nursery directory (at the end of this book) supplies the names of several nurseries that specialize in cultivated lady’s slippers.

HOW TO GROW

All Cypripediums require shade and a moist, acidic soil, and the northeastern and western coniferous woodlands or a deciduous woodland environment provide conditions as ideal as are found on the North American continent. The degree of moisture and acidity needed by each species may differ, and each species requires its own specialized microenvironment to thrive—complete with its “nurse” mycorrhizae—so mimic the natural conditions as closely as possible for the greatest success.

Cypripedium acaule does best in a very acidic soil (pH 4.0 to 5.0), augmented if necessary with such acidic materials as pine needles or leaf mold. Even if you meet its every requirement, however, it is very challenging to domesticate.

Cypripedium calceolus and C. pubescens require a mildly acidic (pH 6.0 to 7.0) soil ranging from slightly moist to boggy, and do best in partial shade and deciduous woods. Some species of yellow lady’s slippers thrive in drier soil as well, so again, mimic the natural environment as closely as possible. These are the most successful lady’s slipper in cultivation and are best grown from nursery divisions. Kathy Keville states in The Illustrated Herb Encyclopedia, “They can be grown in pots if adequate drainage and peat moss are provided. Indoor temperatures should average about 60 to 70 degrees.”

Cypripedium reginae needs an acidic (pH 6.0 to 7.0) and very moist soil ranging from boggy to swampy. Its favored habitat includes light shade and calcareous bogs. Though difficult and challenging, it can be cultivated by division and is best grown on raised hummocks over a limy, wet soil. Plant Cypripedium in the fall, setting the rhizomes of C. acaule and C. calceolus 1 to 1½ inches deep and the shallow-growing roots of C. reginae only ½ inch deep. Space the plants 1 to 2 feet apart and water them thoroughly, then mulch them lightly with dead leaves or pine needles to retain moisture. Water the plants abundantly while in active growth; reduce moisture after shoots have flowered and begun to wither. Plants must not be moved, because movement disturbs the fragile roots, making them susceptible to root rot. Plants increase by forming new rhizomes; flowers will develop as the clump ages.

HARVESTING

The rhizomes, or fibrous roots, were unfortunately the coveted part of this slow-growing peaceful plant historically. These plants, as only recently discovered, are known to live much longer than originally expected, with mature lady’s slippers being up twenty to thirty years old. The numerous cup-shaped leaf scars found on many plants are indicators of great age (see Wise Old Plants by Robyn Klein on page 24). Fleshy rhizomes and roots range in color from orange-brown to brownish. Though variations exist in different species, most roots of the medicinal species are thick, fibrous, and thickly matted. The roots were traditionally dug in the late summer to fall, allowing the plant to complete its flowering cycle and attempt one final opportunity to fruit. Roots cleaned easily and were sliced and allowed to dry in the shade. Gathering baskets or porous bags were used for this purpose. When roots were thoroughly dried they were stored in closed storage containers, which helped to keep their properties for several seasons.

UpS RECOMMENDATIONS

•  No wild harvest is permissible. Use only cultivated resources.

•  Cultivated valerian, cultivated California poppy, and cultivated passionflower are good substitutes. Another alternative is lemon balm for its antispasmodic and nervine properties, as well as skullcap, which has antipasmodic, nervine, sedative, and anodyne actions.

Beauty is not “its own excuse for being,” nor was fragrance ever “wasted on the desert air.” The seer has at last heard and interpreted the voice in the wilderness. The flower is no longer a simple passive victim in the busy bee’s sweet pillage, but rather a conscious being, with hopes, aspirations, and companionships. The insect is its counterpart. Its fragrance is but a perfumed whisper of welcome, its color is as the wooing blush and rosy lip, its portals are decked for his coming, and its sweet hospitalities humored to his tarrying; and as it speeds its parting affinity, rests content that its life consummation has been fulfilled.

William Hamilton Gibson, discoursing on the relationship of insects and flowers

REFERENCES

Blanchan, Neltje. Nature’s Garden. New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1900.

Christopher, John R., M.D. School of Natural Healing. Provo, Utah: BiWorld Publishers, 1979.

Coffey, Timothy. The History and Folklore of North American Wildflowers. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1993.

Dana, Mrs. William Starr. How to Know the Wildflowers. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1900.

Felter, Harvey Wickes, M.D. Eclectic Materia Medica, Pharmacology and Therapeutics. 1922. Reprint, Portland, Oreg.: Eclectic Medical Publications, 1983.

Felter, Harvey Wickes, M.D., and John Uri Lloyd. King’s American Dispensatory. Vol. 1. 1898. Reprint, Portland, Oreg.: Eclectic Medical Publications, 1983.

House, Homer D. Wild Flowers of New York. Albany: University of the State of New York, 1918.

Keville, Kathi. The Illustrated Herb Encyclopedia. Nye, N.Y: Mallard Press, 1991.

New England Wildflower Society. From the Garden Newsletter. Garden in the Woods, Framingham, Mass. 01701.

Wallner, Jeff, and Mario J. DiGregorio. New England Mountain Flowers. Missoula, Mont.: Mountain Press Publishing, 1997.

The Cypripedium Garden: Cultural Information on Cypripedium Seedlings (www.infonet.ca/cypr/CULTRINF.HTM” ~).