Photos Courtesy Mary Henry
It’s one of the subtle joys of Winter in the Pacific Northwest that turn our gray drizzle from seasonal ennui into rhapsody. Licorice Fern, Polypodium glycyrrhiza. You’ll notice them most often as they cling to the trunks or major limbs of trees, looking like colonies of lace-winged moths that have come to rest on the bark. Contrary to the popular belief that these epiphytes grow only on Bigleaf Maples, you’ll see them on Sycamores, Vine Maples, crawling atop rocks or concrete walls, settled into the aged wood of gates and fences, or on the ground.
In maturity, the long-stemmed fronds can reach 1 1/2 feet from base to tip. The leaves are lanceolate (like the blade of a spear) very similar to our native Sword Fern. They stretch out gracefully from the host branch. The survival skills of these delicate plants can be reckoned by their genus name, Polypodium (Poly = many, podium = foot). As the plant grows, its rhizomes creep along anchoring the plant as it spreads in size.
Photos Courtesy Mary Henry
In rare cases, (a cool moist Summer and a plant growing in complete shade), the fern may be green all year around. In most cases, the plant goes dormant in the heat of Summer, opening its fronds as Fall begins its annual leaf drop. In the book The Plant Lover’s Guide to Ferns by Richie Steffen and Sue Olsen (Timber Press, 2015) the authors say, poetically, “The Autumn combination of freshly emerging brilliant fronds with platters of butter yellow Maple leaves is a magnificent sight.” In conversation with Steffen (Curator of the Elisabeth C. Miller Botanical Garden), he shared how he establishes the plant in the ground, a lacy ground cover to embellish the base of larger plants like rhododendrons. “It’s quite easy, really. I lay the rhizomes down on the soil and cover them with an inch or two layer of medium fine bark mulch. Once established they require no maintenance.”
The common name, Licorice Fern, comes from the taste of the reddish, scaly rhizome, which has a strong, sweet licorice flavor when nibbled raw. The plant has proven to have medicinal and culinary value. Herbalists laud its ability to reduce inflammation and skin hypersensitivity. Some restaurants have discovered it as a flavoring and base of tea.
I have a very personal relationship with this fern. About a decade ago, hiking in the Cascades one November, I pulled a 6-inch stretch of rhizomes and fronds off a tree trunk. Once back in my Madison Park garden, I made an inch-thick pad of moss, put the rhizomes atop that and used hemp twine to tie it into the juncture where two major limbs of a Vine Maple stretched up. The fronds died back, but I left rhizomes where I’d placed them. Hope and patience were rewarded. When temperatures dropped and rain began around Thanksgiving the next year, fronds emerged. I’ve had that parent clump since and it’s a frisky critter. In that 10-year period, spores from that fern have landed in three other places on my Vine Maple grove and from there, found their way to a vertical concrete riser, sheltered under the brick pavers forming the step above. You’ll see these ferns in the photograph.
Leafed rhizomes can be collected this month, well into March, and mounted in trees or even grown in containers or the ground. Harvested carefully and kept well watered and in a shady location, the fronds may stay erect through Spring. It’s worth a hike to find them. Once you start seeing them you’ll be amazed at how abundant this plant is and how varied its habitats.
Licorice Fern is a subtle but ethereal addition to any garden and once established, it will find its way into other shady and protected spots. Every Northwest garden deserves to have wings.
Photos Courtesy Mary Henry