Under a North Fork Tree ... Magic in the Twilight

I spotted a fairy ring under a neighbor’s tree yesterday. I must have been so preoccupied with hauling yard waste to the composite heap I never noticed before. It was nearly dusk. The thick, swirling ring seem to rise up out of the lush green of the lawn around it. Graceful stalks and gray-green foliage thrust upright like a corps de ballet in miniature. Their elegant white and green-tinged blossoms wove themselves around the base of a venerable gray tree trunk—a giant amid the Lilliputs. The flowers themselves were shaped like elegant green-streaked white stars. As I watched, the whole ring of plants seemed to sigh and sway gently in the night breezes, an elfin dance to welcome the spring. Intrigued, I headed for my laptop. 

And there they were—Ornithogalum nutans, Star of Bethlehem. The plant can claim a long and interesting history. The name itself dates from the 2nd century AD or even older: from the Greek: --Ornis = Ornithology = bird; and --Gala = galactose = milk.  The English name can be traced to the Middle Ages. Apparently the Crusaders used the plant as food in emergencies, but DON’T BE TEMPTED TO TRY IT: they contain heart stimulants that apparently work similar to digitalis.  tar of Bethlehems can be dangerous in other ways, too, it seems.  They propagate  not by seeds, but by sending out bulb-lets. Horticultural experts warn they can spread very fast and are tough to get rid of once they get going. 

So much for romantic elves dancing in the moonlight. As we speak, a couple of clumps of the plant are duking it out with an equally invasive perennial, lamium, in one of my own flower beds.  This should be interesting.