What’s your favourite colour?
In winter, I go bold: bright orange for my seed capsule — which is like a jacket — and deep red for the fruit inside. When my seed capsule dries, it splits open but stays attached to the fruit. This gives me an eye-catching, carefree look, like wearing your coat unzipped in the middle of winter.
Your name is also quite striking. Can you tell me about it?
My botanical name is Celastrus scandens, and I’m also known as staff vine. The name bittersweet was likely given to me by mistake. It seems early European settlers confused me with bittersweet nightshade, Solanum dulcamara, which actually tastes both bitter and sweet.
So you have lived on this land your whole life?
Yep, born and raised here in what is now North America. And while early settlers confused me with bittersweet nightshade, I am now confused with Celastrus orbiculatus, sometimes called Asian bittersweet. We look a lot alike, but this plant was brought to North America as an ornamental in the late 1800s and grows more vigorously than I do. It’s considered invasive in Nova Scotia and across Canada.
That’s a lot of confusion. How are you coping?
Great — and not so great. I like my new name. Bittersweet suggests embracing life’s contradictions, which I think is very healthy. On the other hand, I’m having a rough time in the wild. With loss of habitat, pollution, over-collecting, and competition from plants like Celastrus orbiculatus, I am considered endangered in many areas. In fact — here’s the kicker — you will have a hard time finding me anywhere in the wild in Atlantic Canada today.
Do you have a best friend to help you through all of this?
Oh, I have lots of friends, thank you. Over 15 species of birds, as well as rabbits and foxes, love the seeds and fruit of American Bittersweet. I help so many animals get through the long winter, and yet bittersweet is poisonous to humans. So strange!
How about a hidden talent?
My real talent, as I’ve mentioned, is to see both sides of situations: the great and the not-so-great. Bittersweet is poisonous to humans but a bounty to other animals. Populations of native bittersweet are declining, but awareness is growing. In Nova Scotia, you can find me in several nurseries (be sure to look for Celastrus scandens) and in many gardens. I’m not really bitter or sweet, but my name suits me perfectly!
One wish?
I wish for even greater appreciation of the beauty and importance of native plants. Of course, that’s what “Wild Talk” has been about! My second wish, if I may, is that everyone try to see the good in things that might not seem so at first. It’s true, the Lunenburg Barnacle is closing, but what a wild ride it has been! Our community is stronger. I know you’ve had a ton of fun, and I can’t wait to see what sprouts up next.
The Wild Talk chapbook is here! Twelve columns collected into one little book. Contact us at wildflowerpress@proton.me for details.
