Wood sorrel turns up in our road garden
Wood sorrel, Myrtle road garden
Luke, the chef who lives in Cleveland Street, joined us briefly for gardening on Friday and showed Karlie and I some wood sorrel growing in the road garden on the corner of Myrtle and Pine.
Luke says when he’s looking at what plants he might eat from the road gardens (and anywhere) he relies on what his tongue tells him. If something tastes like grass then he’s doesn’t pick it. He uses wood sorrel to flavour such things as watermelon. I’m going to try it on the lovely grapefruit we’re getting at the moment in our food boxes from Sydney Food Connect.
I took the photo above today about 11 am and the wood sorrel shown in the centre of the photo with the small leaves was in full shade so it’s a handy plant that will grow on the shady side of the street.
This is what the Web says about it:
Because it has three leaves on each stem, it is sometimes confused with clover. But clover has oval-shaped leaves. Sorrel leaves are heart-shaped. Each leaf has a center crease. At night and in the rain, the leaves and flowers fold in. The leaves are usually green, but sometimes you see plants with reddish leaves. The flowers are yellow with five petals.
And there’s this:
Wood sorrel is an edible wild plant that has been consumed by humans around the world for millennia.[2] In Dr. James Duke’s “Handbook of Edible Weeds,” he notes that the Kiowa Indian tribe chewed wood sorrel to alleviate thirst on long trips, that the Potawatomi Indians cooked it with sugar to make a dessert, the Algonquin Indians considered it an aphrodisiac, the Cherokee ate wood sorrel to alleviate mouth sores and a sore throat, and the Iroquois ate wood sorrel to help with cramps, fever and nausea.[3] en.wikipedia.org…
Amazing stuff; had we not been gardening in the road and had these chance conversations we’d not have seen what’s in front of us. The accidental conversations in the street produce so much more when there’s the common ground of a garden there. When I was picking some this morning a stranger asked what I was doing and now she – turns out the woman lives around the corner – will try some, too.
M
