Queen Anne’s Lace, or Wild Carrot

Teacher’s Story

Queen Anne was apparently given to wearing lace made in medallion patterns; and even though we grant that her lace is most exquisite in design as well as in execution, we wish most sincerely that there had been established in America such a high tariff on this royal fabric as to have prohibited its importation. It has for decades held us and our lands prisoners in its delicate meshes, it being one of the most stubborn and persistent weeds that ever came to us from over the seas.

But for those people who admire lace of intricate pattern, and beautiful blossoms whether they grow on scalawag plants or not, this medallion flower attributed to Queen Anne is well worth studying. It belongs to the family Umbelliferæ, which one of my small pupils always called umbelliferæ because, he averred, they have umbrella blossoms. In the case of Queen Anne’s lace the flower-cluster, or umbel, is made up of many smaller umbels, each a most perfect flower-cluster in itself. Each tiny white floret has five petals and should have five stamens with creamy anthers, but often has only two. However, it has always at its center two fat little pistils set snugly together, and it rests in a solid, bristly, green, cuplike calyx. Twenty or thirty of these little blossoms are set in a rosette, the stems of graded length; and where the bases of the stems meet are some long, pointed, narrow bracts, which protectingly brood the flowers in the bud and the seeds as they ripen. Each of these little flower-clusters, or umbels, has a long stem, its length being just fit to bring it to its right place in the medallion pattern of this royal lace. And these stems also have set at their bases some bracts with long, thread-like lobes, which make a delicate, green background for the opening blossoms; these bracts curl up protectingly about the buds and the seeds. If we look straight into the large flower-cluster, we can see that each component cluster, or umbelicel, seems to have its own share in making the larger pattern; the outside blossoms of the outside clusters have the outside petals larger, thus forming a beautiful border and calling to mind the beautiful flowers of the Composites. At the very center of this flower medallion, there is often a larger floret with delicate wine-colored petals; this striking floret is not a part of a smaller flower-cluster, but stands in stately solitude upon its own isolated stem. The reason for this giant floret at the center of the wide, circular flower-cluster is a mystery; and so far as I know, the botanists have not yet explained the reason for its presence. May we not, then, be at liberty to explain its origin on the supposition that her Royal Highness, Queen Anne, was wont to fasten her lace medallions upon her royal person with garnet-headed pins?

When the flowers wither and the seeds begin to form, the flower-cluster then becomes very secretive; every one of the little umbels turns toward the center, its stem curving over so that the outside umbels reach over and “tuck in” the whole family; and the threadlike bracts at the base reach up as if they, too, were in the family councils, and must do their slender duty in helping to make the fading flowers into a little, tightfisted clump; and all of this is done so that the precious seeds may be safe while they are ripening. Such little porcupines as these seeds are! Each seed is clothed with long spines set in bristling rows, and is a most forbidding-looking youngster when examined through a lens; and yet there is method in its spininess, and we must grudgingly grant that it is not only beautiful in its ornamentation but is also well fitted to take hold with a will when wandering winds sift it down to the soil.

The wild carrot is known in some localities as the “bird’s-nest weed,” because the maturing seed-clusters, their edges curving inward, look like little birds’ nests. But no bird’s nest ever contained so many eggs as does this imitation one. In one we counted 34 tiny umbels on which ripened 782 seeds; and the plant, from which this “bird’s nest” was taken, developed nine more quite as large.

Altogether the wild carrot is well fitted to maintain itself in the struggle for existence, and is most successful in crowding out its betters in pasture and meadow. Birds do not like its spiny seeds; the stem of the plant is tough and its leaves are rough and have an unpleasant odor and acrid taste, which render it unpalatable to grazing animals. Winter’s cold cannot harm it, for it is a biennial; its seeds often germinate in the fall, sending down long, slender taproots crowned with tufts of inconspicuous leaves; it thus stores up a supply of starchy food which enables it to start early the next season with great vigor. The root, when the plant is fully grown, is six or eight inches long, as thick as a finger and yellowish white in color; it is very acrid and somewhat poisonous.

The surest way of exterminating the Queen Anne’s lace is to prevent its prolific seed production by cutting or uprooting the plants as soon as the first blossoms open.

“’Tis Eden everywhere to hearts that listen
And watch the woods and meadows grow.”

—Theron Brown.