Love-in-a-mist

Family: Ranunculaceae
(Buttercup family)
Genus: Nigella
Species: damascena

“Self seeds readily.”

These words are included in every description of this lovely, hardy annual—and truer ones never appeared on a seed packet. Many years ago, at first glance, I was totally smitten by Love-in-a-mist. Little did I know that lo! these many growing seasons later, I would still be entertaining the offspring of those first seeds I scattered so recklessly. The only other plant I’ve encountered that is as enthusiastic a self-sower is Lychnis coronaria. Over the years, I’ve been very stern with the Lychnis, lopping off seed heads and ripping up hundreds of small plants so that it’s confined—more or less—to a few stands in specific planting areas. I’m much more lenient with Love-in-a-mist, allowing it to show its lacy foliage and intriguing flowers in some surprising places. It has a great ability to lighten up its surroundings. So if you have a few bare spots in your beds, if your shrubs are taking themselves too seriously, or if your perennials need a touch of whimsy, consider introducing Nigella damascena to your garden. It will wend its way up through other plants as it wends its way into your heart. Just remember it might be with you for a long, long time. It’s never worn out its welcome in my garden, although it does appear everywhere, every year, all season long. Unwanted seedlings are easily howed away…but because there are so many, I can’t easily separate them from the sprouts of other annuals. So my love of Love-in-a-mist has forced me to grow other things in flats and transplant them, rather than seed them in place. I don’t have the time or patience to garden with tweezers, although I will admit I’ve been tempted, in order to eliminate the N. damascena sprouts from the lobelia and the alyssum.

Love-in-a-mist can grow to two feet tall, although its airy structure keeps it from dominating its space. With successive plantings—and remember, this it accomplishes all by itself—it will bloom here from mid-spring to late summer. Its white, pink, rose, and blue flowers, growing on slim, upright stalks, are absolutely charming. Each floats in a halo of light green, thread-like bracts, as lacy as the foliage beneath. Some say this is the origin of the unusual common name: the bracts form a sort of mist that hovers around the flower. Descriptions emerge from the mind of the namer, however: N. damascena is also known as Devil-in-the-bush. The seed pods that follow the flowers look like small oval balloons, with purple striations and little horns poking out at odd angles. The flowers and foliage are fine for cutting; the seed pods are very useful in dried arrangements and potpourri mixtures; and the seeds are used in several cultures as a spice. Seeds of N. sativa and N. damascena are interchangeably known in some Middle Eastern and Asian cuisines as black cumin—although botanically unrelated to the more familiar brown cumin, which is a member of the parsley family. I’ll spare you a trip through the culinary history of the quite ancient Nigella clan; suffice it to write that it is used for texture and its mild flavor in a variety of dishes, similar to poppy seeds. Do you think Love-in-a-mist muffins might have commercial appeal in this country? The foliage and seeds are used in South Asia as an insect repellant as well. Nigella damascena is said to be particular effective at keeping moths out of cloth.

The two most common named varieties of Nigella damascena are the multi-colored ‘Persian Jewels’ and the all-blue, double ‘Miss Jekyll’. You can see both these members of the buttercup family in the Order Beds at Kew Gardens if you’re planning a trip to England this summer. If you’re staying home, rest assured that both thrive in full sun here in the Pacific Northwest, and require little specialized care. In warmer climates their bloom season is shorter and they produce few flowers. But here, they seem to thrive all season long. In my garden, they’re as tough as can be. They get skimpy amounts of water, albeit on a regular schedule, and no fertilizer beyond the yearly addition of composted manure to the soil where they grow. I’m reluctant to treat them any better; they prosper and proliferate with enough enthusiasm as it is. Now, if I could only teach them to choke out the horsetail…that would be even better than muffins.