Fuchsia (Fuchsia) - confiding love
Beautiful child of a tropic sun,
How hast thou been from thy far home won,
To bloom in our chilly northern air,
Where the frost may blight, or the wind may tear?
Doth thy modest head as meekly bend
In thine own bright clime, - or doth exile lend
To thy fragile stalk its drooping grace,
Like the downcast look of a lovely face?
-Anonymous
I would very much like to write a long, engaging entry about the amazing legends, fascinating cultural histories and uncanny coincidences surrounding the Fuchsia. I’m afraid I must disappoint- this plant, dazzlingly beautiful to the eye to the point where it’s difficult to comprehend its existence, was discovered by Europe only fairly recently as far as botanics go. It simply hasn’t been known in the Western world long enough to gain legendary status, and so its history, like its needs for cultivation are very simple.
In the late 17th century, monk and botanist Charles Plumier found the amazing flower in the Caribbean, and named Fuchsia triphylla flore coccinea, after Leonhard Fuchs, one of the three eminent fathers of botany. Funnily, English-speaking people technically pronounce the name of the Fuchsia wrong; instead of fyu-sha, the original German/Latin is pronounced fook-see-a. An especial delight for children and comedians in Dutch-speaking countries, where the pronunciation is a lot funnier. I would be remiss not to share Annie M.G. Schmidt’s classic ode to this flower, as well as Herman Finkers’ delightful ditty.