If you have not looked into the face of this pretty one, then you must, especially if you are having a bad day. I have never met a flower capable of making people smile as much as our whimsical and wild Madia. They are in flower by the hundreds right now in our foothill fields that have managed to escape the mower, weed whacker, chainsaw, and masticator (not a small feat!). They are one of our native wildflowers meaning they were here long before we were. They have grown and developed on this planet for thousands of years and in this way, all native plants are a living piece of the land’s history before the European settler came along and drastically altered, well–everything. My feeling about our native wildflowers is expressed by poet Elizabeth Jennings:

“Counting this floral beauty, I grow warm
With patriotism. These are my own flowers,
Springing to pleasant life in my own nation.
The times are dark but never too dark for
An Eden Summer, this flower-rich creation.”

These are OUR flowers, a window into history. We should treasure them.

While I do not think of Madia elegans as elegant per se, there is a very good chance you may!

According to an old flower book from 1902, Madia elegans was also referred to as “wild coreopsis.” (I like it). Their current common name is related to one overwhelming attribute of nearly all the Madias–they smell. Madias have their own peculiar odor that some people love and some people DO NOT love. (Go smell one and figure it out). It is presently best known as tarweed. The plants are covered with glands that excrete a resin type substance so if you walk through a field of madias, long after you have gotten home you may still smell them because the resin is all over your clothing. I myself love the smell though it is pungent. But pungency is good when you are a plant because then there is a very good chance no one will EAT you! It is a plant’s best line of defense and a darn good one!

According to the Jepson Manual, there are 19 species of Madia in California. Madias belong to the Sunflower Family which, looking at them seems only logical. The species are grouped into two main groups by if their heads are open during the day or not. There are annual and perennial species. Madia elegans is an annual. (One very unique species grows at Hell’s Half Acre in Grass Valley. Botanists, can you guess which one it is?). According to a few flower books I have, the oil of Madia was used by the Spanish for medicinal purposes and Native Americans ate the seeds as a food source. Madia species are also known from Chile. One of my older flower books reports, “an oil of excellent quality was made from its seeds in that country before the olive was so abundant.”

All this–in one native plant! What stories can the native plants on your property tell you?

I know one thing, Madia elegans always makes me smile.

This article was written by Virginia Moran.

What is it?

This American pest is Torilis; its common name is “spreading hedge parsley”. It is an annual weed introduced from the Mediterranean area and this species (Torilis arvensis) is listed by the Jepson Manual as occurring in central and southern Europe. It is a member of the carrot or Apiaceae Family. As a testimony to its ability to be weedy, it is found at elevations ranging from 40-1600 meters. The other thing it seems to dearly love like all weeds is disturbance. Backhoes, bulldozers, graders, you name it, if it disturbs the soil, hedge parsley loves it.

Hedge parsley spread quickly once introduced into California. Based on The Flora of Mendocino County (Smith and Wheeler. 1990. Wasmann Journal of Biology 48/49: 1& 2. page 255), hedge parsely not only overstayed its welcome, it has refused to leave!

“[In June 1966 this weed was described as "rare".] By the time field work on the flora started in 1979, Torilis arvensis ssp. purpurea was common. By the end of major field work in spring 1986, the abundance of Torilis seen in the field was nearly doubled since 1979 and this taxon had moved from the northern part of [Mendocino] county all the way to the southern border.”

Hedge parsley is also a vicious competitor and voraciously outcompetes our native wildflowers, the ones that were here long before we were and evolved over thousands of years. Native plants have a tough time of it anymore because nothing squashes a plant like some good thick asphalt and where they can grow; new weeds show up constantly to make it even tougher. I get excited when I find even one native plant in my yard. Most of what is in my yard are these European interlopers that have established permanent residency and in some cases, thrive better here than in their native territory.

Spreading hedge parsley is a case in point. If you refer to the website for the UK Biodiversity Plan, Torilis arvensis is on their rare plant list. In fact, it is considered “Nationally Scarce”. (I’m sorry but I did just let out a guffaw and a snort). In the UK, Torilis arvensis is closely associated with agriculture and changes in land use are adversely affecting it. Ironically, the things killing it over there are the things killing our native plants here: use of herbicides and fertilizers, development of highly competitive crop varieties, and the destruction of field-edge habitats. They are even worried about seed dispersal. The decline of the practice of folding sheep “has meant that sheep no longer act as a vector for the dispersal of seeds.” Maybe I should ship my dog over because she probably has 300 in her right now and this is just for today!

Ok. So what is going on that this noxious annoying plant is a pest here but a blessing there and why is it doing so poorly in its native land but going great cotyledonous guns over here? (The first person to be intrigued by this phenomenon was none other than Charles Darwin himself in Origin of Species). Perhaps if we could figure this out, we could send our noxious little friends packing back to their native habitat but for now, I have something prickly and annoying between my toes.

This article was written by Virginia Moran.