Stems of Queen Anne’s lace can sometimes cost $3.50 in a florist, but you can find them for free alongside the train tracks.Jane Macdougall/The Globe and Mail
This isn’t a how-to manual.
It’s a “why not?” manual.
The purpose here is to untether beauty from a price tag.
In the past few years, we’ve re-evaluated plenty. Things like kale and ripped jeans. Running shoes as business attire. Macaroni and cheese on Michelin-starred menus. Orchids? Yawn. After a long exile, the ignoble carnation is making a comeback. The humble has been venerated; the exalted, depreciated. When it comes to fashion, nothing is etched in stone. And that includes bouquets.
Let’s look at floral arrangements in a new way. Not what’s possible with imported Ecuadorean roses, but what can be achieved with what’s at hand. Or underfoot, as the case may be. Call them what you will – roadside bouquets, rubble arrangements – they’re made of things you’ve seen all your life without ever really seeing them. The Erin Brockovich, Karate Kid and Slumdog Millionaire of the floral world. Losers … but only at first blush.
In other words: weeds.
Whenever land is disturbed, weeds will crop up. In the botanical world, they’re known as pioneer species, or ruderal plants, meaning flora that flourishes in the nastiest of conditions. These gardens of the misbegotten flourish at the perimeters of construction sites, roadway verges, vacant lots – essentially at the intersection of traffic and neglect.
Consider the dandelion … and doesn’t every homeowner with a lawn or garden consider the damned dandelion? It was introduced to North America in the 1600s, brought over, some say, on the Mayflower for its medicinal properties. Given its remarkable ability to disperse seeds, it only took a few years for the dandelion to weasel its way into every landscape of the New World. Along the way, we forgot all the reasons that brought this useful plant here in the first place. And we have grown blind to its humble beauty, be it in brilliant yellow or delicate puffball form.
Now is the time to right that wrong. The same forces that are driving up the cost of kiwis and cauliflower are affecting the floral industry. Every aspect of production and shipping has gone up. Everyone is having to get more resourceful. And that includes you. Stems of Queen Anne’s lace can be found in florists selling for $3.50 each … or you can pluck a few for free from alongside the train tracks.
A thoughtful agglomeration of weeds can make for a spectacular bouquet without costing you one red cent. Take your clippers with you while walking the dog. Cutting weeds is the botanical equivalent of picking up litter: No one will stop you and there’ll be just as many when you pass by the area the following week.
Just be mindful that one person’s “weed” can be Mother Nature’s special child. Take milkweed, for example. The magnificent monarch butterfly depends upon the native species as a food source and as a host plant for its larvae. And the aggressive goldenrod, unfairly maligned by allergy sufferers, is actually a keystone species in North America. Using a plant ID app can help avoid upsetting the ecosystem.
In the years ahead, I suspect we’ll all be learning more about weeds. We’ll be eating them, using them therapeutically and relying more and more upon their hidden environmental benefits. And perhaps, one day, thrifty brides will walk down the aisle carrying a cheerful armload of purple toadflax instead of costly, imported calla lilies.
Dandelions and cranesbill make a grand display when combined in an appropriate vase.Jane MacDougall/The Globe and Mail
Dandelions and cranesbill are among the weediest of weeds, but they also happen to make a grand display when massed together in an appropriate vase. Or bucket, as in this case. This particular variety of cranesbill, which is not native, is sometimes called Herb Robert, or Stinky Bob, as it has a nasty odour when uprooted. The pops of yellow are, of course, the cursed dandelion. This bouquet lasted for more than a week but a note: Dandelions close up for the night, which diminishes, but does not destroy, the effect of this bouquet.
The frothy white filigree of Queen Anne’s lace handsomely offsets the fragrant, mauve punctuations of clover in this old green ewer.Jane MacDougall/The Globe and Mail
You wouldn’t naturally find together the two principals happily cohabitating here. Given their druthers, long-stemmed clover prefers damp soil and Queen Anne’s lace leans toward arid conditions. Nonetheless, the frothy white filigree handsomely offsets the fragrant, mauve punctuations of clover in this old green ewer. Use caution when foraging Queen Anne’s lace, lest you mistakenly pick one of its doppelgangers – poison hemlock (used by Socrates to end his life) or common yarrow (a native food source for many insects). A week later this bouquet still looked foyer-worthy.
Buttercups, tall grasses and toadflax are like a floral rendering of abstract expressionism.Jane MacDougall/The Globe and Mail
Something about this bouquet suggests the work of American abstract artist Cy Twombly. The scribbly buttercup, the graffiti of the tall grasses, little purple explosions from the toadflax – it’s a floral rendering of abstract expressionism. This arrangement surprised me: It remained unchanged for more than a week … a claim lilies and snapdragons could never make.
Sheaves of wheat are emblematic of autumn and tall grasses can be found growing along most fencelines or in alleyways.Jane MacDougall/The Globe and Mail
A line of these would look grand on the Thanksgiving dinner table. Sheaves of wheat are emblematic of autumn and, luckily, there’s an abundance of tall grasses to be found growing along most fencelines or in alleyways. You’ll need a good fistful of grass for each sheaf. The trick is to tie the bundle quite high so as to create a wide, stable base. Raffia is ideal for this but twine could work, too. Cut the base evenly with clippers. The bigger the bundle, the more stable the bouquet. You’re done!
Jane Macdougall is a writer based in Vancouver.
