The Folklore of Five Woodland Plants

Certain plants evoke certain areas, like grasslands, meadows, hedgerows, or gardens. Others are full of the mystery of the forest, splashing colour across the woodland floor. Bluebells are famous for turning ordinary woods into a stunning scene in late March until early May.

So in this post, we’re going to look at the folklore of woodland plants. My choice of plants was inspired by this Woodland Trust guide to woodland wildflowers.

Yes, some of them grow in other places, but they are associated with woodlands on the British Isles. Let’s learn more about cowslips, forget-me-nots, lily of the valley, primroses, and red campion!

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Cowslip

The cowslip is the primula veris, from the Primulaceae family. They flower between April and May. People often picked them on May Day for garlands, and they were popular in wedding bouquets (Woodland Trust 2024a).

It turns out they were originally called ‘cow slop’ through their association with cow pats in fields (Woodland Trust 2024). Cowslip sounds so much nicer though.

Another nickname was ‘St. Peter’s keys’ because people thought the heads, with flowers only on one side, looked like a bunch of keys. In some legends, St. Peter dropped the Key of Earth, and cowslips grew on the spot (Woodland Trust 2024a).

This link with keys apparently gave them the folk magic power to split any rocks that contained treasure (Baker 2011 [1969]: 46). Even better, they could exorcise the Devil.

A clump of flowers with yellow heads, with the flowers clustered on one side of the stalk. — Cowslips © Icy Sedgwick

Carrying Cowslips

They’re associated with seeing fairies in Somerset folklore, specifically going looking for fairies. It seems people would seek them at night, with either the full moon or specific times of the year like May Eve being popular. You’d carry the cowslips with you, and if you’d done everything right, you would see fairies. Christina Oakley Harrington also recommends wearing green clothes, the colour of the Good Folk, and taking an offering of milk or cream with you (2020: 47).

People also carried cowslips if they were looking for treasure (Harrington 2020: 47). They followed the same instructions as those used for seeing fairies, except the seeker needed to attune themselves to seeing treasure, rather than fairy homes. Harrington recommends carrying treasure with you, “on the principle of like attracts like” (2020: 48).

Cowslips also appear within a love divination, in which girls formed a ball with cowslips called a tisty-tosty. They picked cowslip flowerheads and hung 50-60 on a string. They would push the flowerheads together and pull the string tight to create a ball. A group of young girls then tossed this between themselves. They would speak a list of names of potential partners. Whichever name they spoke at the moment someone dropped the ball was ‘the one’ (Binney 2018: 131).

According to Mrs Burke’s Language of Flowers dictionary, cowslips meant pensiveness and winning grace (1865: 17).

In the past, people used cowslip to treat coughs and sleeping problems (Woodland Trust 2024a).

Forget-me-not

Forget-me-nots, or myosotis sylvatica in the Boraginaceae family, are also known as mouse-ear and scorpion grass. The myosotis comes from ‘mouse ear’ in Greek, which recalls the shape of the leaves. Their curled flower head was believed to resemble a scorpion’s tail, hence scorpion grass. At one point, people thought the plant could cure a scorpion sting (Gray 2015: 50).

Much like cowslips, Somerset folklore says you should carry forget-me-nots if you’re looking for fairies or treasure. The downside is you need to carry the right number of flowers at the right time…though it’s unclear what either of those values are (Harrington 2020: 60).

It’s interesting because there’s a legend in which a traveller in the mountains sees a strange flower he’s never seen before. He picks it and a vast entrance opens in the side of the mountain. He goes inside, and finds a huge treasure trove of gold and precious stones. He drops the flower and tries to grab the treasure, but the flower whispers a warning, “forget me not”. The traveller doesn’t hear it, and doesn’t realise the entrance is beginning to close. He manages to squeeze back outside but he’s left the forget me not inside, and cannot re-open the treasure cave (Carruthers 1879: 44).

clusters of small blue flowers on thin green stems — Forget-me-nots © Icy Sedgwick

Forget-Me-Nots and Love

According to Mrs Burke’s Language of Flowers dictionary, forget-me-nots meant true love (1865: 24).

This possibly comes from stories about where the plant got its name. In one legend, a couple walking along the Danube saw blue flowers on an island in the river. The man ignored his sweetheart’s comments about the strength of the current and decided to gather the flowers for her. He managed to swim across to the island and picked a bouquet of them for her. On the way back, he got caught in the current and the water dragged him under. He apparently threw the bouquet onto the bank, beseeching her to “Forget me not!” before he died. In the legend, the woman wore forget-me-nots in her hair until she died (Gray 2015: 50).

By the 1850s, people in Germany adopted a trend for planting forget-me-nots on their loved ones’ graves (Gray 2015: 50).

They also had other, more pragmatic uses. In Somerset, people wore it to ward off witches during May. Others claimed you could temper steel with forget-me-not juice, and such steel could cut stone (Baker 2011 [1969]: 60). If you set off on a journey on 29 February, you should also wear forget-me-not as a buttonhole (Baker 2011 [1969]: 60).

Lily of the Valley

The lily of the valley, or Convallaria majalis, is part of the Asparagaceae family, making it a cousin of asparagus. It grows well in the shade, so it can be found in woodland areas. They also indicate ancient woodlands, so spotting them is a good way to tell if you’re in an established habitat (Woodland Trust 2024b).

It’s considered the flower of May based on when it blooms (Binney 2018: 17).

Please note that it’s also extremely toxic and any part of the plant causes sickness if eaten. Some people sometimes get skin irritation after touching the plant (Vallie 2022).

According to legend, the flowers sprang from Eve’s tears as she left Eden. Alternative legends say the flowers came from Mary’s tears at the Crucifixion (Gray 2015: 58).

In another legend, St Leonard fought and killed a dragon in Sussex. Wild lilies of the valley sprang up from his blood (Baker 2011 [1969]: 92).

White globular flower heads dangling from narrow stems among wide green leaves — Lily of the Valley by Michel / claquin.com, [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons

A Wedding Flower, or Something Poisonous?

It was apparently used as a decoration for spring weddings, or during Whitsuntide festivals. In one strange custom, the old ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue’ tradition also included lily of the valley as the fifth item (Gray 2015: 58). The fact that the flowers are supposed to bring luck in love probably explains why they appear in wedding bouquets (Woodland Trust 2024b). I won’t comment on what using poisonous flowers to attract love says about love itself.

Other folklore acknowledges its poisonous side. One belief claimed whoever planted lily of the valley would die within a year. As late as 1979, even the image of the flower brought bad luck, with a handkerchief embroidered with the plant rejected as a gift in Buckinghamshire. Bringing it into the house was incredibly dangerous (Baker 2011 [1969]: 91).

According to Mrs Burke’s Language of Flowers dictionary, the lily of the valley meant return of happiness (1865: 36).

Primrose

Primroses are the primula vulgaris from the Primulaceae family. They bloom in woodland clearings and they’re an early nectar source for butterflies. Best of all, they also indicate ancient woodlands, so spotting them is a good way to tell if you’re in an established habitat (Woodland Trust 2024c).

Primoses are the flower of February, alongside the violet (Binney 2018:7). That said, they can flower between December and May (Woodland Trust 2024c).

Never give bunches of primroses as gifts. Bunches of fewer than thirteen were unwelcome in the house (Binney 2018: 35). If you picked a lower number for your posy, that’s how many chickens would hatch. In Norfolk, neighbours might give a child a primrose to take one home so only one egg might hatch (Baker 2011 [1969]: 126).

They’re usually pale yellow. White ones symbolised young love, lilac ones meant confidence, red ones meant unappreciated merit (Gray 2015: 31). According to folklore, you could affect the colour by the planting conditions. So feeding a primrose plant with bull’s blood would guarantee red flowers. Planting them upside down on Good Friday would give a pink, red, or red with a yellow centre flower (Baker 2011 [1969]: 126).

A cluster of pink flowers with yellow centres, beside red flowers with yellow centres. — Primroses © Icy Sedgwick

Primroses and Fairies

In German folklore, primroses could open doors to fairy caves containing gold. Other legends claim Bertha lured children from their homes using primroses, and into her halls (Harrington 2020: 104). This links to the idea of the primrose as a key, since a German name for the flower is Schlusselblume (Carruthers 1879: 44).

Much like cowslips, you could carry them to see fairies or find treasure (Harrington 2020: 104). That said, Harrington notes that primroses seem to be more useful when finding fairies associated with mountains or caves (2020: 105).

There was also a belief that children who ate primroses could see fairies (Harrington 2020: 104).

In Somerset, people also hung a ball of primroses over the door on Midsummer’s Eve for protection. Elsewhere, people did so on May Eve. In Ireland, people tied primrose balls to their cows’ tails to ward off supernatural creatures. In Yorkshire, people made wreaths of primroses, green leaves and buttercups, and hung them up on May eve to bring luck and protection over the coming season (Harrington 2020: 104). It was important to let the wreath wither, rather than taking it down.

A cluster of pale yellow flowers with darker yellow centres. — Primroses © Icy Sedgwick

According to Mrs Burke’s Language of Flowers dictionary, primroses meant early youth (1865: 48).

They also appear in folk medicine. Drinking an infusion of fresh primrose flowers during May was believed to calm nervous disorders. Meanwhile, people used the leaves to heal wounds. In the 1600s, people also made primrose pottage, by boiling primrose flowers, almond milk, saffron, honey, ginger and rice flour to make a dessert (Inkwright 128). Woodcutters in Hampshire and the New Forest boiled primroses in lard to make an ointment for any injuries (Baker 2011 [1969]: 126).

Red Campion

Red campion, or Silene dioica in the Caryophyllaceae family, prefers shady woodland areas. Like some of these other plants, it’s an ancient woodland indicator (Woodland Trust 2024d).

The ‘silene’ in its name possibly comes from ‘sialon’, a Greek word meaning saliva. This in turn references the plant’s gooey secretions on its stems (Woodland Trust 2024d).

A single magenta flower head with four petals, each split into two lobes at the end. — Red Campion © Icy Sedgwick

According to legend, red campion flowers guard the honey stores of bees. They also prevent fairies from being discovered (Woodland Trust 2024d).

The plant is linked with St James since it flowers near his feast day of 25 July (Woodland Trust 2024d).

People in Cumberland associated the flower with Robin Goodfellow, or Puck. Considered a native British spirit, his surname recalls the way people refer to fairies as the Good Folk. Stories often portray him as a household spirit, where he helps people with their chores. He stole what the household owed him if anyone forgot to pay him white bread and milk for his help (Sparkes, no date).

Children believed it would cause their mother’s death to pick red campion (Baker 2011 [1969]: 37). In the 1960s and 1970s, people in Cumbria still called the plant mother-and-father-die, and children didn’t pick them (Vickery 2021).

This is somewhat surprising since red campion isn’t poisonous to humans. Yet people somehow linked the plant to snakes, with one belief claiming bringing red campion into the house would invite snakes with it (Vickery 2021). So perhaps that explains the idea your parents would die if you brought it home.

What do we make of these woodland plants?

One interesting thing about these plants is the way they are indicators of ancient woodland. Even if you ignore their folklore, they’re important to the ecosystem. Many of them are very popular with pollinators. That we find them in such old habitats shows how long humans have lived alongside them.

Using some of these woodland plants to look for fairies is a strange one because nothing good comes from looking for them. Using them to look for treasure makes more sense, particularly with the association of forget-me-nots with an entire treasure trove.

Ultimately, while folklore might sound a bit nonsensical, we’re probably missing what much of it represented at the time. We have the story, but we maybe don’t have the context or the awareness of what that story meant to people. Having those two things would help us to know how people interpreted these different stories.

Only this fragment of information remains, and we don’t always know how it fits into a wider whole. If someone’s collected folklore, you don’t know the extent to which they interpreted it themselves, how much they edited it, how much they left things out, and whether they got the correct information from their informant. They may only have half-remembered folklore.

It’s important to celebrate these woodland plants and woodlands as a whole. It’s such a shame in nature-depleted Britain that councils destroy woodlands without a second thought. People benefit from being around trees and plants, so hopefully, folklore provides a good route to an awareness of nature.