In Praise of Pokeweed
Every summer, my family drives about 300 miles west of our hometown in Montclair, NJ, for a week of camping at Clear Creek State Park in Sigel, PA. We meet another family — good friends from Ann Arbor, MI — who drive about 300 miles east. Essentially, we meet at the midpoint between our two homes for an amazing “same time, next year” tradition. Someday I’ll post more about the secret, hidden wonders of Clear Creek State Park (go, if you ever have the chance), but for now I’ll simply describe Clear Creek as the place where I first met Pokeweed.
One of our friends from Ann Arbor, David, is a botanist-ecologist-native landscaper who serves as a walking plant encyclopedia. While we hike through the PA woods or up the icy waters of the Clear Creek, David will point out a little Joe Pye weed here, a little crown vetch there, and pokeweed all over the place. So, when pokeweed (ahem) poked up through the soil in my garden a couple of years ago, I knew exactly what it was.
Let me tell you, pokeweed — a native plant to this area — is beautiful. The plant in my garden grows to be over six-feet tall and has a thick center stalk that turns a deep red-purple over the course of the summer. Its broad leaves wave in the slightest breeze, which gives a dainty feel to an otherwise imposing plant presence. In mid-summer the conical clusters of little white flowers morph into clusters of green, puckery berries-to-be. And, in late summer, the green berries turn to dark purple and then to almost-black, hanging like grapes. By this time, the leaves are starting to look a bit ratty, and the entrancing berries distract the onlooker from tatters and holes in the flapping, drooping leaves. Once those almost-black berries appear, though, it’s time to cut them off…unless you want an entire grove of nothing but pokeweed. Those berries will surely and positively seed new pokeweed plants wherever they land. And, once the pokeweed takes root, it’s yours.
I’ve learned a few interesting things about pokeweed from books and websites: the plant is poisonous — very poisonous; even so, folks in the South will boil the leaves three times or more to remove the toxins and make a poke salad; and the ink used to write the United States Declaration of Independence was made of fermented pokeberry juice (those are powerful berries!). Mostly, though, what I know about pokeweed is that it’s a strong-yet-delicate plant that changes almost every day…and it’s a good friend to have in the garden. I see pokeweed babies all over town, and I always tip my imaginary hat and say, “Hello.” Most gardeners work hard to pull up the pokeweed and eliminate it from their gardens, but I’m happy to see mine return each year.
I’ve discovered one treat that both sets a clear limit on the plant and gives me something to appreciate for months to come: I snip off the berry clusters when they’re in the green, puckery stage and arrange the clusters in a bowl on the table, in a small vase on the sideboard, or on a tray in my studio. As they dry, the clusters are beautiful to look at, even when they lose all color completely . Right now, I have a sandy-brown, lone, dried out cluster hanging from a small nail on the wall beside my desk. There’s an elegance and a grace that persists even when all other life force seems to have disappeared.
So, I won’t eat it…I won’t let it grow unfettered…I won’t write a world-altering document with it…but I sure will continue to praise it and be thankful for pokeweed’s joyful presence in my garden.
