Herb-Paris Paris quadrifolia is a perennial plant of damp, moderately calcareous woodlands. Blooming in late spring, it is a striking and distinctive species featuring a whorl of four ovate leaves. In May, a single flower emerges on an upright stem – a star-shaped bloom composed of four yellow-green petals and four green sepals, topped by a dark ‘berry’ and a crown of eight golden stamens.
Known as oneberrie in historic accounts, Herb-paris was first properly described in England by the father of English botany, William Turner (1508-1568), who wrote of his discovery:
‘The herb that hath bene taken for lyberdes bayne, groweth plentuousely besyde morpeth in Northumberland in a wod called cottyngwod’.
Never one to pass up an encounter with a special plant, this week, a chance visit to Morpeth as part of a course I’m leading provided the perfect opportunity to visit Cottingwood for myself.
Cottingwood is a small woodland nestled in the heart of Morpeth, Northumberland. That it has survived in a relatively unaltered state is something of a miracle – the deep, steep-sided valley offering protection from the spread of the affluent housing developments that have sprung up around it in the years since Turner visited. Today, it remains in relatively good condition and is home to many plants typically associated with ancient woodland: Bluebell, Wood Sedge, Great Horsetail, and others. Some areas of the wood appear well-trodden, but elsewhere, dense vegetation gives the impression that few people venture into this special and historically significant patch of greenery.
After navigating a few banks and narrow trails, we came upon a damp flush where, to our delight, the distinctive flowers of paris appeared in surprising abundance – growing in precisely the same spot where Turner described the plant centuries ago.
If the survival of Cottingwood itself is surprising, then the continued presence of Herb-paris at this little site borders on the miraculous. Now a rare species, it is often confined to particularly special habitats — its spread hindered by its own unique biology (it does, after all, produce only one seed annually). Even so, what a privilege it was to sit in the very same spot as one of our most eminent botanical forebears, admiring this weird, wonderful, and undeniably beautiful plant.
Spring flowers don’t come much better than this…
