By: Dr. Harold Laughlin
Former Wildlife Sanctuary Director, Heard Natural Science Museum & Wildlife Sanctuary
This month we are revisiting past articles from the “The Coneflower Courier”, our chapter’s printed newsletter from 1994 – 2001. The article, originally published in April 1994, is by the renowned Dr. Harold Laughlin, Wildlife Sanctuary Director at the Heard Museum and Wildlife Sanctuary from 1965 – 1997. You can view the entire newsletter and other editions on our website.
If a person is involved at all with native plants for any length of time, she/he eventually comes to deal with their Latin names (or “scientific names” or “botanical names”). Unfortunately, many people are “afraid” of these sometimes-complicated looking words, so that they avoid them. But Latin names need not be fearsome and can even be fun.
I don’t intend to go into a discussion here of the reason for Latin names. There are good explanations in many of the field guides or other popular reference books. (I especially like the one in Harold Rickett’s “Wildflowers of the United States”.) I simply want to discuss here the meanings and backgrounds of some of the names of our local plants. The basis of most fears is ignorance; when you understand things they become less fearsome.
I’m always fascinated by words, their meanings and origins. Although all scientific names are in Latin form, they are often derived from a parent language, usually Greek. The Romans often “copied” the Greeks in forming their language, simply giving the root word a different ending. Many times, the English language further modifies a Latin word and puts another ending on it. For example, the Greek “leirion” became “lilium” in Latin and “lily” in English.
Actually, we commonly use several Latin plant names that have not been anglicized. Coreopsis, Iris, Anemone, Geranium, and Phlox are just a few examples. Now see, they’re not bad!
Many plant names have been bestowed by botanists in honor or memory of someone else, perhaps the person who discovered the plant, or a teacher, or colleague. Such a name is called an “eponym”. Carolus Linnaeus, the Swedish botanist who in the 18th century conceived the system of using two Latin names, the genus and species, to identify plants and animals and their relationships, used eponym frequently. For example, our little Ratany is in the genus Krameria, named for W.H. Kramer, an early supporter of Linnaeus and his system. The Maximilian Sunflower (Helianthus maximiliani) was named for its discoverer, Prince Maximilian von Wied-Neu Wied, who was interested in plants. Gaillardia (another one you already knew!) was named after a French botanist, Gaillard de Charentonneau. You can usually recognize eponyms because they look like someone’s name.
My favorite story about Linnaeus concerns his naming of the genus Commelina, the Dayflowers. As you may be aware, Dayflowers have 3 petals, 2 of which are large and bright blue, the other small, shriveled, and colorless. Linnaeus named the genus after a family of Swedish botanists, the Commelijn brothers, two of whom were active workers, the third non-productive. You see, even stuffy scientists have a sense of humor.
Let’s go back to some of the names mentioned earlier and look at their meanings. Iris is Greek (and Latin) for “rainbow”, referring to the many colors within an Iris flower. Phlox means “flame” Helianthus comes from “helion”, meaning sun, and “anthos”, flower.
Whenever you see “-opsis”, it means literally “in the eye of” meaning “looks like”. In Greek, coris is “bug”, so Coreopsis means “looks like a bug”. What does? The little black seed does.
Anemone is a little different. Most people think it comes from the Greek word, “anemos” meaning “wind” (an anemometer is a device to measure wind speed), because anemones are often called “wind flowers” referring to the wind-blown seeds. But William A. Weber in “Colorado Flora” suggests that Anemone may be a Latin corruption of the Semitic name “Na’man” or “Naaman”, a mythological character corresponding to the Greek Adonis, from whose blood the crimson flowered anemone of the Middle East is said to have sprung.
Most scientific names are simply descriptive. Penstemon comes from “pente”, meaning five, and “stemen”, meaning stamen, thus “five stamens”. Trifoliun, the common yard clover, has three leaves…tres is Latin for three, folium is leaf. Our Sundrops (Calylophus serrulatus), have crest (lophos) on each sepal (calyx) and saw-toothed leaves (serra means “saw” with a diminutive ending – ulata, thus “small-toothed saw”.)
That’s enough names to look at for now. One final word: Botany, the name of the science of plants, comes from the Greek word “bos”, meaning “cow”, plus an ending denoting knowledge. So, is Botany the science of cows? No, it’s the science of what cows eat!
