when i was trying to find information about rose classifications i came across a fantastic blog about flowers called pollen nation. and what was so glorious is that they run a series called the daily flower. the entries are written cleverly and knowledgeably, and include literary references to the featured flowers, a photograph (or failing that, illustration), plenty of tongue-in-cheek comments and interesting historical factoids. for instance, the entry for purple-top verbena, 8th july's daily flower, begins:

"If you’re au fait with a bit of olé, today’s flower probably evokes (somewhat blurry) memories of late-night dancing in Barcelona. Indeed, the Spanish ‘verbena’ – a kind of outdoor summer disco – derives its name from the plant, which in turn takes its name from the Latin for leafy branch or sacred bough. But from whence the floriographic association of this plant is derived remains somewhat more of a mystery – unless notions of regret and weeping for somebody are intrinsically connected to jiving around in the moonlight with a bottle of Rioja."

or the one on valerian which says:

"I'd wager a large pinch of salt (very valuable, at one time, you know) that those Victorian floriographers walked around grinning in perpetuity. Nothing but an extremely wry sense of humour can explain how valerian – a plant used medicinally as a sedative and that shares its name with a Roman emperor who was forever in the financial doldrums and beset by military mishaps – came to connote 'good disposition'.

True, sleep is rather a good disposition to be in, and the insomnia-alleviating Valeriana officinalis is a friend in deed to those seeking temporary oblivion. And, come to think of it, disposition can also mean getting rid of something; as well as boasting pretty little corymbs of pinkish, sweet-scented flowers, valerian is rich in valeric acid, which purportedly banishes acne. "

what i enjoy most though are the sections on suggested recepients, such as these:

good for giving to: posh schoolboys with muddled minds. (horse chestnut blossoms)

good for giving to: paupers with prospects. and estonians. (wheat)

good for giving to: men of the cloth, avuncular acquaintances and fanciers of slightly risque poetry (gloire de dijon)

good for giving to: cats and charlatans. (sweet william)

good for giving to: anybody unhappy about being overly hirsute (mimosa)

good for giving to: successmongers, newly-qualified doctors and anyone about to address an oracle. (the laurel)

good for giving to: those who would sleep perchance to dream. and peaceniks. (white poppy)

good for giving to: anyone above suspicion. (gerbera)

good for giving to: uncoy mistresses (rosa mundi)

good for giving to: gentleman thieves with a glint in their eyes (oh, yes, and there’s the dejected bit, so those without a glint as well). (lupines)

the typical entry is in this format (12th januaryentry on lemon blossoms:)

"Who’d’ve thought that floriography was so rock’n’roll? In Victorian times, the waxy, five-petalled white blossoms of the lemon tree were seen as tokens of fidelity, prudence and discretion; today, they seem to connote much the same in U2’s ballad to Citrus limon.

She had heaven, and she held on so tight (fidelity) … when you’re dry, she draws her water from the stone (prudence) … she wore lemon, but never in the daylight (discretion).

Just in case all that gushy stuff bores you, you here are two dependable, forethoughtful and tactful lemon blossom facts: you can eat them, and they appear on lemon trees at the same time as lemons do. Fascinating.

Good for giving to: Faithfully discreet economists.

Great lemon blossoms in literature:

    And the air came in with lemon blossom fingers
    To touch those sleeping faces:
    A thousand years of air, months, weeks of air...
    These came with gentle footstep hurricanes
    Cleansing the lonely precinct of the stone.

    From ‘Macchu Picchu’ by Pablo Neruda"

doesn't that sound like a marvellous blog? read these and more at pollen nation's daily flower series.