Feverfew (Chrysanthemum parthenium): Put it in your garden one time, let it bloom and go to seed and you’ll never be without it.
Mary Henry
There are a few plants that could be considered biblical. Not that they play any role in the Bible, but because they validate ancient biblical teachings. In this case: The meek shall inherit the Earth.
In its definition from Webster’s dictionary of 1828, “meek” was defined thusly: Mild of temper, soft, gentle, not easily provoked or irritated, yielding, given to forbearance under injuries, quiet, gently and easily imposed on; submissive.
Which brings me to the plant Feverfew (Chrysanthemum parthenium). Put it in your garden one time, let it bloom and go to seed and you’ll never be without it. It’s straight stems of feathery, lime green leaves will get a foot or two tall. Then branches of buds will appear, opening into clusters of tiny daisy-like flowers, each about 3/4 of an inch across. Happy in most any soil and fairly tolerant of drought, this undemanding and cheerful little beauty will enliven almost any pocket of the garden with a delicacy reminiscent of a Victorian love letter. In full or partial sunlight, light or heavy shade, it grows and blooms with amazing fortitude. It self sows freely. So you’ll see it popping-up all around if your allow the blossoms to brown and mature. Dig seedlings in the spring, putting them were you want them. Or just let them thrive where ever nature has sent them. The plant will grow up, around and through most any other planting, never crowding, never robbing other plants of their prominence, simply supplementing the beauty.
This herbaceous perennial is native to Eurasia, and the Balkans. It is listed in a 4th Century BCE text by Hippocrates as a good plant for treating lesions. Modern texts often refer to Feverfew’s medicinal value, but never really say for what. It must be noted that some people have a mild allergic reaction to this herbaceous perennial, giving them itchy eyes, sometimes contact dermatitis. If chrysanthemums bother you, stay away from Feverfew.
Now, to start with a disclaimer, I am not suggesting this, nor do I stand by the efficacy of what I experienced, but like many plants I had a wonderfully quirky experience with Feverfew. Our family has a house on acreage up in the North Cascades. The fleas up there are huge. I once compared them to grains of rice in size. Back in the 1980s we were at the property with our dog having forgotten any flea repellant. Our dear dog was being eaten alive. So I pulled a handful of the pungently scented leaves from a Feverfew plant crushed them lightly in my hands and them rubbed them around on the dog’s coat and up and down her legs. She smelled wonderful and, for the next two weeks, there was not a flea on her. As I say, this was my experience, not to be taken as advice. If any reader out there can explain how this solution (instinct driven on my part) worked, I’d love to hear their theory.
As for the name, Feverfew, the only botanical reference I’ve ever seen about it is that early on, because of the structure of the foliage, the plant was called Feather Leaf and, somehow, somewhere, that was corrupted into Feverfew. Then again, it may be some ancient reference to medicinal qualities. However, the name stuck.
You’ll find Feverfew in four-inch pots in nurseries now. There is a cultivar, Chrysanthemum parthenium ‘Aureum’ that has beautiful yellow-gold foliage. Cut the bloom clusters of Feverfew at its peak (well used in bouquets) and it will branch anew and bloom again, kept well watered. And, to reiterate, let the flower heads go to seed and scatter and next year this undemanding little gem will surprise you with appearances throughout your garden. To paraphrase Webster: softly, gently, quietly, submissively and with a mild temper… Feverfew will find its place and delight you with its ability to enhance what you’ve planted, asking nothing in return. The meek shall inherit the earth.