April Showers…
Yes, they do bring May flowers. And for those of us living in the eastern United States, it implies that small galaxies of four-petaled white and pinkish flowers will start dotting the shady understory of woods and forests from Maine to Florida, and as far west as Southern Michigan, Illinois, Missouri, and eastern Texas. These large, conspicuous flowers belong to the flowering dogwood (Cornus florida), a member of the Cornaceae family endemic to North America. Only they’re not exactly flowers. Those flashy petals covering the crowns of dogwoods, stealing the show every spring below the shade of pines in the south or under oaks and maples in the north, are not really petals. They are actually modified leaves known as bracts, which in the case of the dogwood are in charge of attracting pollinators such as bees, beetles, flies and butterflies.
So the dogwood bracts are not really flowers, but in New York they are the manifest sign that May is finally here and those April cold showers—which this year, I must say, were relentless—are finally over. Yet it didn’t immediately occur to me to make the flowering dogwood my May subject. Then last Sunday, as I rode my bike to McCarren Park with the intention of making a decision about this month’s tree, I saw it, with his lovely crown dressed in white, sharply cut against the charming brick façade of that very narrow building with visible wood beams on Lorimer Street, just past the corner with Meserole. The decision to write about the flowering dogwood was made right then.
The Stuff of Stories
Like the two main varieties of American catalpa, the Cornus florida is endemic to the Americas. But I wasn’t so sure about the identity of our Lorimer specimen. According to PlantSnap, these bracts could also belong to the Cornus kousa, commonly known as Kousa dogwood, sometimes also called Japanese dogwood. It’s really hard to tell the difference before they bear fruit. But if they are Cornus florida—as I suspect not only these are, but all the other specimens nearby, on or around McCarren park—, they belong to the same species that played a prominent part in many myths and legends that originated in the Appalachians, in the original homeland of the Cherokee and the heart of the distribution range of the flowering dogwood.
In fact, the dogwood is an important element in the myths and legends of a number different eastern Native American tribes, and not just the Cherokee. The Mohawk identified the cosmogonic Tree of Life in the Sky World with a giant dogwood. People of the Quileute and Makah communities believed the dogwood brought good luck and ate their fruit in religious ceremonies, while for their part, the Blackfoot considered that the dogwood embodied masculinity, and did not allowed their woman to eat its fruits. But I am most interested in the role played by the flowering dogwood in the Cherokee legends about the Little People. Like many cultures around the world, the Cherokee believed in a small race of anthropomorphic spirits known as the Little People, or Yunwi Tsunsdi, similar to the Celtic pixies, the Irish leprechaun or the elemental gnomes whose introduction is credited to the alchemist Paracelsus. These beings were described as handsome little men and women with black, white or golden skin. They were gentle and helpful creatures, though they could sometimes be mischievous, specially if they felt bothered or intruded by humans. They were also believed to have the power to befuddle people’s minds. But they were mostly considered protectors and wonder workers. People could hear them sometimes at night, drumming and talking deep in the woods, or just right outside their houses. When left alone, they could surprise humans by magically completing heavy tasks such as gathering the corn and cleaning the fields. But they might show their mean side if threatened.
There were at least three clans of Little People: Rock People, Laurel People, and Dogwood People. The Rock Little People were mean and vengeful, but only as a reaction of having been invaded. The Laurel People just liked to have fun: they were light hearted and joyful. And the Dogwood people, last but not least, were benevolent creatures who loved to help others. Their teachings are simple: respect the boundaries of others, don’t take life too seriously, and do good for goodness sake without expecting a reward. If we consider the beauty of the tree, and its value as a resource, it’s easy to understand why the kindest of the Little People where identified as Dogwood People.
A very different story, this one rooted in the Christian tradition, sets the dogwood in the context of the crucifixion. The legend, of unknown author, tells that back then, dogwoods were tall, majestic trees like the oak. The Romans, in need of a fine sturdy wood to crucify the King of the Jews, decided to cut down a dogwood to build the cross. After the resurrection—in some versions because of the shame the tree felt for having played a role in the death of Jesus, in other because of Jesus’ distress—the dogwood was cursed—or blessed, rather—to grow slender and twisted from then on so no cross could ever be built out of it. As a reminder of the sorrowful event, the petals of the dogwood flower were shaped as the cross, and now bear the bloody mark of the nails in each of its four bracts.
The legend, or course, has no biblical basis. For one thing, dogwoods are not native to the Middle East, and dogwoods definitely did not grow in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus. The actual origin of the story remains a mystery, though most of the evidence points at America, early 20th century. According to one of my sources, a printed versified version of the legend appeared in The Victoria Advocate, a newspaper from Victoria, Texas, in 1954. But the origin of the story is probably older than that.
From Mount Vernon to the Battlefields of the Civil War
Dogwoods didn’t play a part in the story of Jesus and the Passion, but they do play a role in the history of the United States. The landscaping of Mount Vernon, George Washington’s famous estate in Virginia, was carefully designed and planned by the commander-in-chief of the Continental Army between the end of the Revolution and his election as first president of the United States. His plan included the dogwoods, which he planted on the lawn south of the mansion, along with evergreens and redwoods. Thomas Jefferson also planted the beautiful understory tree to embellish his plantation house at Monticello. But the dogwood plays a much more important role than just ornating the mansions of two of the nation’s forefathers.
During the Civil War, the dogwood bark became a much needed replacement for quinine, a drug still used today to treat malaria, the mosquito transmitted disease that often afflicted soldiers in their camps. One report for the years 1861 and 1862 informs of 115,415 cases of malaría among Confederate troops, of which 1,333 resulted in death. As the northern blockade made the supply of quinine unreliable, the “Confederate Surgeon General’s Office was active in seeking out and supplying troops with quinine substitutes,” explains Guy R. Hasegawa, PharmD, in the abstract of his article published in the journal Military Medicine on June 2007. The dogwood, already included in a list compiled and published by physician Peyre Porche as a febrifuge, or fever-reducing agent, was an obvious candidate to develop a treatment against malaria. Dogwood bark was indeed included in one of the earliest and most common replacement for quinine, a compound tincture prepared with 40% willow bark, 30% poplar bark, and 30% dogwood bark soaked in whisky for two weeks. An ounce of this concoction was administered to patients three times a day as a tonic and fever reducer. The replacements were no as effective as the quinine, which can only be obtained from the bark of a Peruvian species of a tree known as cinchona, but it was still useful in helping soldiers cope with the debilitating and sometimes fatal symptoms of malaria.
Whispers of the Little People
The flowering dogwood wasn’t only harvested for its medicinal properties. Dogwood timber is strong and resistant, and these qualities make it an ideal choice in the manufacturing of items such handle tools, hay forks, wheel cogs, pulleys and many other sturdy objects for everyday use. But more importantly, dogwoods are an invaluable food resource for many forest creatures, from birds like the wild turkey and rodents like the chipmunk and the squirrel, to larger mammals, such as the he beaver, the gray fox, the black bear and the deer. Like its Little People of legend, the dogwood is a generous tree, a humble understory provider and a worker of wonders. It’s preservation is clearly vital for the health of our forest ecosystems. According to the Plant Guide issued by the Natural Resources Conservation Service of the United States Department of Agriculture, “the flowering dogwood is endangered in Maine, exploitably vulnerable in New York, and threatened in Vermont.” Awareness of the species status is a first step in the conservation of these small forestal gems.
Nothing will make us love and appreciate the flowering dogwood more than getting close to one, especially now that they are in bloom. A few glorious flowering dogwoods can be found Greenpoint’s McCarren Park. A couple of them loudly announce their presence with open bracts at the corner of Lorimer Street and Driggs Ave. Another one grows on the northern half of McCarren, right by the inner path that cuts across the park leading from Bedford to Driggs. But my two favorite flowering dogwoods in the neighborhood grow behind a black iron fence in the triangular square formed by the intersection of Bedford and Nassau, also known as Father Jerzy Popieluszko Square. I don’t think a description would make them justice. Not even the pictures do. So on your way to Town Square’s annual Go Green! BK Festival this Saturday, I suggest you swing by and checked them out for yourselves. If you pay close attention, you may even hear the joyful whispers of the Little Dogwood People.
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MORE TREE TALES FROM GOGREEN BK:
- Under the Cherry Blossoms: José Miguel López. April 26, 2019.
- The Yews of Our Imagination: José Miguel López. March 18. 2019.
- Geraldo’s Tree. José Miguel López. February 11, 2019
- The Holly King. José Miguel López. December 17, 2018
- Call of the Catalpa. José Miguel López. November 19, 2018
- An Oak Tree Grows in Greenpoint. José Miguel López. October 18, 2018
- Greenpoint Had a Fig Tree. José Miguel López. September 19, 2018
- Poet Tree. José Miguel López. April 5, 2018.
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