Consider-the-Lilies Web Gallery
Violet Wood Sorrel
In my wanderings across the Shenandoah Valley to see what new lily I might find, I most often become aware of a new variety when I spot the flower.
For example, the white blossom of the diminutive native wildflower, Spring Beauty, was what caught my eye one day in mid-March as I wandered along the edge of some marshland.
When considering it I really did not perceive the foliage: the leaves and stem blended into the green background of rampant new growth beneath the blossom, and were all but invisible.
For this lily the delicate pink and white blossom dominated the scene.
But sometimes, the blossom is not that apparent, and my attention is drawn to the plant by the size, shape, or lushness of the foliage, or perhaps by its height.
I discovered this community of Mayapple when the erect spreading leaves first came into view, although I was still some distance away.
But I didn't see the creamy white blossoms until I got down on my knees and peered beneath the umbrella of the spreading foliage.
Some lilies, however, have been graced to rival Solomon in all his glory in both the beauty and distinctiveness of their blossoms as well as their foliage.
Thus it is with this native perennial, Violet Wood Sorrel.
The blossom is, indeed, a beautiful sight, but it was a ground covered by foliage that announced the presence of Oxalis violacea.
The distinctive three-lobed leaves, sprawled over a shaded bank, could have been a bed of shamrocks or perhaps clover.
But, although they display similarly shaped leaves, neither of these plants is an Oxalis.
One glimpse, however, of the pastel pink-lavender blossom, with its distinctive creamy-white throat and green center, told me I wasn't looking at clover!
The flower stands erect above the spreading three-lobed foliage, and while not numerous, does serve as a distinctive, identifying element for Violet Wood Sorrel.
(A naturalized alien relative, Sour Grass, has similar lobed foliage.
You are perhaps familiar with it as the common yellow-flowered "clover" lawn weed. The bane of homeowners throughout most of North America, it flourishes in forty-four of the lower forty-eight states and nine of the ten Canadian provinces! Click above to visit this room.)
Violet Wood Sorrel, in common with its immigrant cousin, Yellow Wood Sorrel or Sour Grass—indeed along with all the Oxalidaceae—carries in its stems and foliage sour-tasting crystals of oxalic acid and other elements. (The foliage of Jack-in-the-Pulpit, although from a different family, also contains oxalic acid crystals.)
The family botanical prefix, Oxalis, in Latin—from the Greek, oxys —and the common name, sorrel, in Old French, surele, are the words for "sour or bitter" in these languages.
Found from Maine to Florida, Violet Wood Sorrel has been dubbed with an interesting array of names in different parts of eastern North America.
Depending on the locale, we would find it called Fairy Bells—See below—, Hallelujah, Indian Lemonade, Purple Stubwort, Purple Wood Sour, Sheep Sour, Sour Clover, Sour Trefoil, Three-leaved Grass, and Trinity Grass.
One rule of thumb I've developed in this endeavor: if a lily has an array of common names in different areas of the country, then it most likely is useful as a pot herb or in herbal medicine. It seems that the settlers didn't bother to name a plant unless it had some value to them in their daily life.
And that is the case with this flowering herb also known as Fairy Bells!
Easily seen—and thus easily collected—Oxalis violacea, by any name was, and still is by some, highly valued as a medicinal herb, beginning with the early colonists.
Suffering with a mouth ulcers or a sore throat, follow this olde prescription: "Take ye some Fairy Bells plant and boil the stems and foliage in water. Gargle ye the liquor and it will sooth and relieve the soreness of ye mouth."
Or maybe make it worse!
No, don't try this at home!
Oxalis violacea was also prized for the refreshing herbal tea that could be prepared from its root: Later in the growing season, after flowering, the roots were harvested, dried, and then ground into a powder from which a spicy, lemony tea was brewed.
I picture a colonist and an Indian sitting around a camp fire, enjoying steaming mugs of Fairy Bells tea and nibbling freshly dug Fairy-spuds—also known as Spring Beauty! (above)
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Go back to the Main Directory to consider more lilies of the field.