Mother Shimble’s Snick-needles

The famous Bluebells of Newton and Cliff Rigg Woods are having a lie-in. Give them a week, perhaps, before they are at their best. Meanwhile, the true prima donna of the woodland floor is the Greater Stitchwort, cluttering the place with its endless sprinkling of white, star-shaped flowers that seem to think themselves terribly precious.

This plant, like so many others, comes with a string of old names, as if folklore could somehow make wild flowers more interesting. “Adder’s Meat” is one such example, born of the quaint belief that picking a flower might invite a venomous end. A charming tale of childhood terror. The English, naturally, have a deep tradition of naming plants after the Devil—over fifty begin with “Devil-”, not that it ever made them grow better. Greater Stitchwort joins the club with “Old Lad’s corn”, a gentle nod to Satan himself. Still, the clear winner for me is “Mother Shimble’s Snick-needles”, a name that offers no explanation and, mercifully, no meaning¹Rustic Speech and Folk Lore by Elizabeth Mary Wright 1913.

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  Rustic Speech and Folk Lore by Elizabeth Mary Wright 1913