Everyone has a place

A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet but a Fritillaria imperialis will always smell like a skunk.

For those not familiar with the name, Fritillaria imperialis are those weird, two- to three-foot tall flowers out by the corner of my yard. They have a crown of upside-down tulip-like blossoms topped by a spiky hat of green leaves. They haven't bloomed for me in years and I was afraid they had died.

I usually refer to them by the name of Crown Imperials as that is how they are commonly sold in catalogs. They are also called Tears of Mary. There are three stories that explain this name. One is that the name translates to Tears of Mary in Persian. I don't speak Persian so I can't verify this. Another story is that all the flowers bowed their heads as Christ passed by on his way to the crucifixion. The Fritillaria did not. Now it bows it head in eternal shame and cries perpetual tears. The tears are actually drops of nectar and are very visible on the flowers. The third explanation is that the plant grew at the foot of the cross. It was so horrified at what transpired that it has bowed and wept since then.

The plant also goes by a far less romantic name - stink lily. This is a very appropriate name for such a regal flower. It is a member of the Liliaceae family; therefore the lily part. You would have to smell one to understand the rest. The bulbs give off a distinct skunk-like odor. When the plants begin to push their way out of the ground and unfurl their leaves one would be convinced there is a very angry skunk in the area. The smell dissipates somewhat when the blooms appear.

Some plant catalogs promote the plants as deer, mole and gopher repellents. They never mention that the plants accomplish this by their strong aromas. So if you decide to purchase some, beware that they should never be planted beneath a window that will be opened in spring.

These are not new plants. Vincent Van Gogh painted a copper vase full of them. I don't know if this was before or after he cut off his ear. I also do not know if he painted quickly to avoid the smell. Maybe he thought he should have cut off his nose instead before the painting was finished. We will never know.

The plants' native habitat is in the Middle East, around Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and even around the Himalayan foothills. It doesn't seem to mind being in the middle of America surrounded by tulips, daffodils and irises. All the different nationalities of flowers get along with each other just fine. There's a lesson in there for the rest of us.

The flowers will bloom for another week or so depending on the weather. Then they will be overshadowed by the late-blooming plants.

Like the Crown Imperials, daffodils go by several names such as jonquils and narcissus. They may have different colors and shapes but they are all the same type of plant.

I find it interesting that plants have so many different pseudonyms. People also go by different names. I am Mom, Honey, Grandma, Sis and Diana. Rarely am I Mrs. Dolecki. The name I am called at a given time is a reflection of what function I am fulfilling at that time. It is also a reflection of whomever is calling me.

The moral of this long-winded tale is that people play different roles in their lives as plants play different roles in our gardens. Some of us are stars and some of us are backdrops. We all have value.

We may originate in different countries, we may look weird, we may even smell awful at times but all of us have a place in this world. It takes all of us, together, to make this world a wonderful place. If the Crown Imperials didn't stink so much they might have been planted closer to the house where fewer could enjoy them. If all of us were alike then none of us would stand out.

It doesn't really matter what we are called. We are all worth a little space in the garden of life.[[In-content Ad]]