- Arugula (Astro, Sylvetta)
- Basil (Holy, Red leafed, African, Thai)
- Beans (Black Valentine, Jade, Purple Dove, Scarlet Emperor, Sunrise, and of course Ethiopian lentils)
- Beets (Chioggia, Early Wonder, Bull’s Blood, Touchstone Gold
- Cabbage
- Carrots (Tendersweet, Cosmic Purple, Solar Yello, Scarlet Nantes, Parisian, Yaya). Yaya?
- Celeriac (Monarch)
- Celery (Tango)
- Chard (Rainbow)
- Corn (Bantam, Strawberry, Ashworth, Hopi Blue)
- Dahlia (“If you take care of your peonies, the dahlias will look after themselves.” Dorothy Parker
- Eggplant (Ping Tun Long, Turkish Orange)
- Fennel
- Flowers (mostly Sunflowers, including Evening Sun, Hungarian, Mexican, Tarahumara White, Zulu Prince, Tiger’s Eye, Velvet Queen, and Persian Carpet Zinnias)
- Garlic, Ginger, Greens
- Herbs (German Chamomile, Lemon Balm, Marigold, Mint, Mullein, Hungarian Blue Poppy, Mexican Tarragon)
- Ishikura onions
- Juniper
- Kale (Red Russian, Dinosaur, Red Ursa)
- Lettuces (Australian Butterhead, Canasta, Cimmaron, Deer Tongue, Devil’s Tongue, Drunken Woman Frizzy-Headed, Grandpa’s, Ibis, Jericho, Lambsquarter Magenta, Mascara, Merlot, Reine des Glaces, Tomahawk, Two Star)
- Melons (Snake, Bitter, Jelly, Cassabanana, Piel de Sapo, Rampicante Zuccherino)
- Nigella (Love-in-a-Mist)
- Onion
- Parsnip
- Peas (Coral Shell, Cascadia, Mayfair, Oregon Trail, Swiss Giant, Sugar Ann and Sugar Lode)
- Quadrato d’Asti peppers
- Radish (Daikon, French Breakfast, Round Black Spanish
- Spinach (Bloomsdale, Sora, Gamma, Renegade, Strawberry)
- Squash (Black Forest, Red Kuri)
- Strawberries (Italian and Golden Alexandria Alpine)
- Tomatoes (Anna Russian, Azoychka, Amish Red, Black Ethiopian, Box Car Willie, German Queen, Olena, Ukranian, Cerise and Pear Orange, Paul Robeson, Sandul, Moldavan, Tlacolula Pink)
- Uva Ursi
- Virginia Snakeroot
- Wisteria
- X?
- Yarrow
- Zucchini (Verde Chiaro, Ronde de Nice)
The question of who names these plants is an interesting one. Scientists name things for the purpose of identifying and classifying distinguishing features, patterns and trends, with comparatively little regard for posterity in terms of the effect of the name. But s/he who names things creates a legacy. Naming is power, God-like power. We who name things are framing the terms of the conversation. We label the landscape we inhabit to remind ourselves of where we are. But as we walk, drive and study maps to find our way, these names also speak of who we are, who our forebears were, and about what was important to them. The act of erasing Native names for the places we live was an act of genocide that also erased the relationships and stories that gave rise to those names. As I drive between my land and Ft. Bragg I read the road signs (MacKerricher State Park, Inglenook, Cleone, Ft. Bragg) and wonder how we might see ourselves if our shared landscape bore the place-names of the Native people who lived here before us, each name a glyph for the shape of the land, its water, animals and trees and the events that occurred there. What if we could sing the maps of our landscapes as the Aboriginal people know how to do? How would those names and that knowing train us to live better lives?
A rose by any other name... But Hopi Blue Corn and Deer Tongue Lettuce and Persian Carpet Zinnias evoke pictures that create worlds, expectations, and kinship among all who have eaten, seen or grown these things (not to mention Drunken Woman Frizzy Headed lettuce, which few have grown, seen or eaten.)
Cultivating heirloom seeds and plants has become a political act these days. Monsanto’s efforts to erase ancient nutritional lineages is a genocidal act, the ultimate expression of the need of those who inhabit a power-over paradigm to impose lifelessness on that which they perceive (and rightly so) as threatening that power.
A few weeks before he died at the age of 95, my father sat dejectedly at a family meeting (which was usually his favorite activity) listening as I excitedly described my plans to purchase this land in Mendocino and talked about our family’s recent purchase of an organic avocado orchard near Santa Barbara. In 1939, my grandfather had bought a ranch in Blythe, California, along the Colorado River – raw land that the family cleared, leveled and cultivated for over 50 years, using the maximum allowable amount of fertilizers and pesticides, eventually selling it to the California Department of Fish and Game, which has allowed it to revert to raw land and wildlife habitat. Shaking his head in disbelief, my father said bitterly, “From shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in one generation!”
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