'Lace' deserves place to grow

This is the time of year that people start pestering me to cut down my vast collection of Daucus carota, that wild ancestor of modern carrots, otherwise known as Queen Anne’s lace. The problem is that I like the fluffy white umbels.
I like how they play well with the few things that are blooming now. They look great in a vase with roses, or at least they used to before my roses all went belly up. Today they are in a vase with some lavender hibiscus and a sprig of Russian sage.
The goldfinches that appreciate the volunteer sunflowers have also been seen flitting around the Queen Anne’s lace. The flowers add to the sweet fragrance of the garden in the evening. Granted, this year there are more of the snowy blossoms than usual. I guess they like the lack of rain as it has resulted in less competition from the more cultivated plants that I usually try to grow.
In order to justify my love of the plant, I researched it. Supposedly one can make jelly out of the flower heads. I have never made jelly in my life. On the rare occasions that I purchase jelly it is never made of weeds and will sit in the refrigerator until it starts to grow fuzzy crops of its own inside the jar. If you want to try making the sweet pink concoction there are tons of recipes on the internet.
A word of warning is in order for anyone wanting to make jelly or use the plant for anything other than decoration. It looks a lot like poison hemlock. Up until this year I had never seen poison hemlock. For some reason a couple of months ago, Conium maculatum decided to pop up all along the river that runs near our house. To me poison hemlock looks like Queen Anne’s lace on steroids and up close it is obvious that the two plants are very different.
There are several stories as to how the plant got its name. I had always heard that Queen Anne pinned the flowers to her dress to represent lace.  Another tale is that the tiny purplish floret in the center is the queen and the white florets make up her lace collar. One that I hadn’t heard before now is that the name of the plant comes from Saint Anne, the mother of the Virgin Mary and the patron saint of lace makers. Who knew that lace makers even had their own saint?
In addition to using the plant as decoration and jelly, I found a recipe for a wild carrot cake. Frankly, this sounds nasty as it not only contains wild carrot taproots, but kudzu, sweet brown rice flour and lecithin granules. The recipe originates in England so perhaps they have access to sweet brown rice flour and lecithin granules at their local supermarket.
You can make paper out of the plant, although the directions for this were somewhat sketchy. It can also be used as a natural dye, producing an off-white color.
There are many herbal remedies listed that use the seeds or other parts of the plant to alleviate a whole host of problems. Again, I do not recommend this. I am simply presenting you with information about what some people do.
It has been used as a contraceptive, diuretic, and stimulant. Supposedly it soothes the digestive tract, helps treat bladder disorders, rids individuals of worms and stimulates the removal of waste by the kidneys. An essential oil obtained from the seed has also been used cosmetically in anti-wrinkle creams.
It can be used to make an insecticide. And, frankly, I wouldn’t dream of using an insecticide as any kind of remedy for anything other than insects. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any wrinkles on the many insects that feed on the plant so do you think that part could be valid?
All this research proves that Queen Anne’s lace is more than a simple biennial weed and deserves a place to grow and thrive. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Plus, I think it is pretty nestled in a vase with whatever is blooming at the time.[[In-content Ad]]