VII: Verbena

The many trials of Joseph Dombey, botanist-at-large

septidi, the 27th of Prairial, Year CCXXXI
Photo by Timo C. Dinger / Unsplash

Good morning. Today is septidi, the 27th of Prairial, Year CCXXXI. We celebrate la verveine, a beautiful herb people believed must have powers due to its scent.

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The unaltered Latin name for this plant means "sacred bough," and it didn't necessarily apply only to the species we associate it with now – it was more likely thrown at any plant brought into a ceremony. However, verbena (the herb) stood out, and the name soon came to mean something like "special," which is how it wound up being applied today to after-dark carnivals in Spain. There, a verbena is a fair, and yes, the English word "fair" derives from this same Latin root: a special, magical, sacred event that takes place in the evening. Think about this as you try to win that stuffed animal for the fifth time by knocking over milk cans.

The lives of botanists are not typically seen as adventurous the way, say, archaeologists and paleontologists (unfairly) are. While we inexplicably choose people who scrape at dirt for a living to portray as heroic men on the silver screen, in real history, it's the botanists who got into the most adventurous scrapes, particularly during the colonial development of the Americas, when the exchange of new plants between the continental masses led to as much scientific excitement, national jealousy, and frenzied expeditions as the space race would in the 20th century.

Let's take a look at just one tumultuous life, that of the French botanist Joseph Dombey.