Datura

seacraftme
Jan 13
3 min read

In lieu of being able to visit one of the nearby ancient cities to do a botanical survey, let me write about another plant that I happened to come across just outside our property line this morning. One of the local Tom-cat's happened to be sniffing around the parking lot when I glanced outside. I quickly ran out, treats in hand to greet him, and hoped the husky wouldn't find us out just yet. Inevitably however, she did, and chased this fat-cheeked feline right over the stone wall. After a quick admonishment to the hound, I hastened after him with a bowl of warm water (it's below freezing right now) and more treats in hand. He hadn't gone far, just to the corner of our neighbor's stone fence. I sat with him for a moment, and noticed with more delight the remnants of a group of plants scattered by my feet, licked by the recent frost. Maybe about ten or so lone soldiers stood, wilted arms hanging by their sides, but spiky helmets intact, gazing towards the sun. Welcome, Datura.

The first time I saw this plant pop in my M-I-L's garden, I was of course, extremely excited. She boasted sumptuous creamy white flowers edged with delicate tendrils and after the flower faded, a lonely erect seed pod remained. About the size of a golf-ball or slightly smaller, and covered in sizable thorns. Calling to mind an extra-terrestrial snake head, or the Stranger Thing's Demigorgan head turned inside-out. Of course something not to be touched, but too many tales of human history with Datura has left an spell on me. Rituals, potions, healing tinctures, yes please. During the pandemic, I had made more of an effort to research native species that I'd not had the luck to encounter in the US. After identifying and reading up on this new beauty, I made the mistake of telling my M-I-L about their potential hallucinogenic properties. The next day, the plant was nowhere to be seen. An gaping hole in the greenery and a divot in the soil. Lame. So for the last several years, I've kept her in the back of my mind, in hopes of catching sight of one nearby that I could harvest seeds from in the right season. Since then I've managed to spot only a handful of wild specimens, several of which were nearby but have been paved over and an apartment complex is growing in their footsteps. One cultivated beauty was growing happily in an aging barrel on a particular farm in Southern Maine . But since this morning, I had yet to see any near our new home. Not sure how I had missed them before, although the seeds may have come new with soil over the past year during the construction of the neighbor's home.

This particular stand of Datura, species yet to be determined, will hopefully be the progenitor of a couple plants in our flower garden this summer. In my mind, I've held a list of plants, that will slowly disseminate and fill the bed surrounding our vegetable garden. I'm imagining an entire troupe of players, performing a wide-variety of acts. A sort of wild apothecary of medicinal herbs, a handful of deadly specimens, purely decorative of course... and plenty of supporting roles as nourishment for the bees and birds. My goal has been to collect these, one by one, like a sort of Pokemon hunt, in the most sustainable way. For the most part, I think collecting and sewing by seed will be possible, though collecting a few shoots may be required. There are a few native plants that I've been very tempted to dig up one or two, in areas where they are abundant of course, but have held back waiting, observing, and researching to learn the best way to propagate them. (I've seen far too many plants die at the hand of my M-I-L forcefully ripping them out of the ground when she comes across them on a walk. No shovel or water to put them in. Inwardly recoiling when I hear the roots snap and know they won't make it back alive.) There is also the affair of where to put them where they'll flourish. After battling with shade, water and temperature needs last summer, I certainly need to identify the micro-climates in our garden bed. I'll start a running list of the first botanicals that come to mind here.