In the second year weld abandons its cautious, unassuming form. It reaches for the sky with a flower stalk that shoots wildly high. The exuberant transformation reveals weld’s main character flaw — impetuosity. A character flaw that means dormant seeds will take a chance and germinate at anytime of year if there’s a hint of warmth. Some plants will even rush to complete an entire life cycle in one season. They abandon the careful storage of nutrients and race towards sexual maturity. Desperate to reveal their flower spike in all its glory. The architecture of the flower spike is the showiest part of weld. The actual flowers are small, neatly arranged yellow to green blossoms that cloak the length of the spike.
If threatened by drought or physical damage weld again revels in impetuosity and throws caution to the wind. Reasoning it’s better to reproduce and spread more seed than hunker down in the safety of that unimposing green rosette.
Blue
Isatis tinctoria, woad, dyer’s Woad or glastum is a biennial immigrant from the Caucasus now a settled resident of Europe and western North America. Woad is a confident plant, staking a claim on new pastures with such zeal that in certain states it is listed as a noxious weed and targeted for eradication. A single colony of woad in Montana increased its territory from 0.8 to 40.5 ha in two years.
It’s not just the confidence of woad that has given it such a bad reputation in certain botanical circles. An impolite guest at the all you can eat buffet of soil nutrients, woad has a gluttonous appetite for nitrogen. Selfish woad doesn’t share and will empty the larder for a hunger that’s never sated. It reaches right to the back of the cupboard for sustenance with a taproot that can grow up to 1.5m in length.
It should come as no surprise that such a significant anchorage brings with it both an admirable and frustrating quality — persistance. If Woad is happy and well fed it will stay put, ignoring all polite hints to move on. That’s not to say Woad is a homebody. Wind is woad’s chosen method of travel. Though it’s not adverse to taking advantage of any passing creatures that might be going it’s way. Bunches of black seeds with individual wings sway in the breeze and then take flight. An average plant will send 500 offspring to colonise new worlds. A more prolific plant can send up to 1000.
To make sure its seeds can catch the wind and fly woad grows tall. Delicate stems topped with sprays of yellow blossoms hold their heads high above botanical neighbours. Making sure the Woad offspring have a headstart in the race to find new soils.
Woad isn’t always self serving though. It has a generous side. The rosette of dark green leaves, that provide the famous blue dye, are a product of woad’s insatiable appetite for nitrogen. It’s thanks to woad’s greed that they can be harvested more than once in a season. Planted in March the crop will be ready from July to September. If your Woad is feeling particularly generous the harvest might be extended to November and if frost is avoided even all year round. Greedy, selfish, persistant, woad is a utilitarian provider at heart