Poet William Wordsworth is known to have held daffodils dear, but they were not his favorite flower. That honor belonged to another yellow bloom, celandine, for which he wrote at least three poems. To the Small Celandine is a prose of praise: Long as there’s a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory; Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There’s a flower that shall be mine, ’Tis the little Celandine.

His affections were so strong that at one time he suggested “the painter who first tried to picture the rising sun, must have taken the idea of the spreading pointed rays from the Celandine’s glittering countenance.”

An even more permanent sign is that his tombstone bears the carved image of the flower.

There is a lot to consider when contemplating celandine. It is a healer and a harmer, a friend and foe, and a weed and wonderful wildflower.

Lesser celandine, scientifically Ficaria verna, is a stranger to these parts. I found a bunch blooming during a run along a path on the Edgartown/West Tisbury Road. Hailing from Europe, it is considered invasive in many states in the U.S. due to its ability to spread and outcompete other ephemeral species. First identified in this country in 1867, this plant has expanded its range by natural colonization and its planting as an ornamental.

Europeans love this plant for its utility and beauty. It is an early bloomer, flowering as early as late February to March, which coincides with the arrival of a spring bird. The word celandine is derived from Chelidonia, meaning swallow. One bit of folklore neatly explains that this plant blooms when the swallows return and fades when they leave.

Also called spring fig, smallwort, pilewort, fig crowfoot and fig buttercup, celandine serves as an edible and medicinal plant. Its leaves are tender and succulent, and must be harvested ahead of its flowering (if eaten fresh), since it contains a compound that has some toxicity to humans and animals. The leaves can be cooked or dried to render the compound harmless, allowing for its use after its flowers become apparent.

Those lovely leaves contain vitamins C and E, potassium, calcium and fiber, making its use to prevent and treat scurvy understandable. One of its aliases, “pilewort” refers to its employment for treating piles, which I now know (after doing research) is hemorrhoids. Disturbingly, one healer noted “If you dig up the root of it you will perceive the perfect image of the disease commonly called the piles,” which is perhaps too much information.

Celandine also was a remedy for allergy, acne and digestive issues. Importantly, it was also a cure for the “King’s Evil,” or scrofula, a tuberculous infection in the glands of the neck, whose other remedy was supposed to be the touch of the king or queen. One herbalist had such strong belief in its power that he insisted, “the very herb borne about one’s body next the skin helps in such diseases though it never touch the place grieved.”

As the flowering of this plant precedes the arrival of insects, it has developed insect-free methods of reproduction. Bulbuls are secondary buds or tubers that are produced between the leaf and the stem that will eventually drop to the ground to produce new plants. Carried by animals or water, they allow for impressive dispersal. 

Anton Kerner von Marilaun’s The Natural History of Plants explains it this way: “a sudden downpour of rain in a region abundantly overgrown with Lesser Celandine is sufficient to float away a number of the tubers, and heap them up on the borders of irrigation channels when the rain disperses. In such places the quantity of tubers have floated together is often so large that one can hardly gather them in one’s hands. In the way arose the idea that the tuber had fallen from heaven with the rain and the myth of a rain of potatoes.”

A pleasant thought indeed for a plant whose gifts inspire more than the poets.

Suzan Bellincampi is director of the Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary in Edgartown, and author of Martha’s Vineyard: A Field Guide to Island Nature and The Nature of Martha’s Vineyard.