By KAREN MADORIN
Spring sprang in all her splendor, triggering a purple sea to inundate yards, city park acres, roadside ditches, farm fields, and pastures. Tiny lavender blooms set among frilly leaves welcome warming temperatures every year, but current conditions have cranked its performance.
Commonly called henbit, this vegetation sporting tiny orchid-like flowers blends cheerfully with dandelions that brighten green lawns and irritate weed haters. This North African/Eurasian immigrant has outdone itself recently, creating a divided populace—those who hate it and those who don’t.
As daylight lengthens and greenery unfurls, a pinkish-purple carpet has overtaken what should be verdant lawns in every area town.
People like my mom despise this invasion into well-tended grass. I, however, forgive these tiny buds their trespasses and welcome them. Once I researched this relative newcomer to the plains, I found it had practical uses to match its eye-catching appearance as well as a few negative qualities.
Henbit or Lamium amplexicaule L. belongs to the mint family. Although a member of Lamiaceae or mint clan, henbit doesn’t smell or taste like its more refreshing relatives.
It comes by its common name because chickens love to eat it. Apparently, cranes and storks savor it as well because some regions of the country identify it as cranesbill, heronsbill, and storksbill. In addition to hens and other birds gobbling this gourmet treat, some say hummingbirds love to sip its nectar.
For humans with exotic tastes, this plant offers interesting dining options. Homo sapiens can nibble cleaned stems, flowers, and leaves harvested from unsprayed fields. It crunches raw in salads, blends in smoothies, sautés like kale or spinach, or brews into teas. These greens, which some claim taste either like kale or mushrooms, are rich in iron, vitamins, and fiber, all positives for nutrition enthusiasts. With such recommendations, it’s surprising to see it overtaking lawns.
The explanation regarding such abundance might have something to do with the species ability to reproduce like … it’s a member of the mint family.
A single plant can produce 2,000 seeds a season, which makes me wish I had a savings account offering such returns. Like its relatives carelessly seeded in a garden, these plants reproduce as prolifically as cottontail bunnies. Begin with two and in a couple of seasons, thousands overtake an area. This cousin to wintergreen, catnip, and spearmint excels in this department, which a drive through town confirms.
The failure of this plant to thrive in the open market may relate to its negative qualities.
I mentioned how easily it spreads. It has additional downsides. According to one source, field infestation results in diminished yields in small grain crops. In addition, authorities explain that it hosts disease-causing nematodes and fungi in soybeans and other cultivated plantings. Learning about these objectionable qualities makes it clear why agriculturists don’t promote it.
As much as this early season bloomer brightens yards and spirits, my mother’s weed diagnosis is realistic. Anyone living close to farm fields shouldn’t let it reproduce. Those desiring to eat or feed it to livestock can’t spray it. It’s a quandary for sure.
Karen Madorin is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and sixth-generation Kansan.