Haworthia maraisii v. maraisii

The pictures below were made on the edge of a Eucalyptus forest a few hundred meters from my home. As is usual for them, the plants occur here on rocky outcrops, well hidden in patches of coarse sand or between stones.
They slowly form small groups of 
rosettes. Each rosette is 4 -7 cm in diameter, consisting of few to many, dark green to brown leaves which are usually flat above and rough with raised tubercles; the margins and keel are decorated with small spines.
In March- May the plants produce inflorescences up to 30 cm tall with white flowers (often with a yellow throat).


Accompanied by Adromischus filicaulis ssp. marlothii

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A giant dwarf (Haworthia pumila)

This name exemplifies one of the quirks of botanical nomenclature.
How can the biggest of the Haworthias (each rosette up to 25 cm tall and about 15 cm across) be called a dwarf? It only makes sense when you know that the plant was originally described as an Aloe, and as such it is a dwarf of course.
H. pumila is found from Worcester to Montagu (as far south as the northern foothills of the Riviersonderend Mountains) and in the southwest corner of the Great Karoo. Usually the plants consist of a single rosette, but over time they may (slowly) produce additional ones.
The first two pictures were taken just north of Matjiesfontein in late July, the third one south east of McGregor in the same period;
Pictures four and five are from the Aneysberg Nature Reserve  (late September) and the last two show plants in the uncultivated part of the Montagu Nature Garden (same period).

hawopumi 2010-07-29#116

hawopumi 2010-07-29#114

hawopumi 9137

hawopumi 2010_09_14#060

hawopumiDSC_3548

hawopumi 8754

hawopumi 8751

 

 

 

 

 

Haworthia arachnoidea var. scabrispina

In their most typical form, these plants are easy to identify, because of the more or less rounded, rather than flat rosettes (see first two pictures).
When they don’t have this give-away shape, one has to have a closer look at the leaves and spines, which are firm and stiff.
Locality is also important, as they only occur in the southwestern corner of the great Karoo and the adjacent part of the Little Karoo.

hawoaracsca 2010-07-29#126

hawoaracsca 2011-04-17011

hawoaracsca  2010-07-29#128

hawoaracsca 2010-07-29#056

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haworthia viscosa

Although rather variable, this species is easy to identify (H. nigra is the only other Haworthia in which the leaves are arranged in three ranks). The species is tall as Haworthias go: up to 30 cm. It is widely distributed from halfway between Laingsburg and Sutherland, throughout the central, eastern and southern Karoo and the Little Karoo, with an outlying habitat near Graaff-Reinet. In shade the plants are green, but one often encounters them in very arid places in full sun, where they usually become brownish, reddish or orange.

hawovisc 1708

hawovisc 2011-11-25_DSC7190

hawovisc 8282  2012-11-03

hawovisc 2011-05-04_DSC5555

hawovisc 4759

Haworthia bayeri

This beautiful species occurs from near Willowmore to just west of Oudtshoorn.
Unfortunately, the place near De Rust where these pictures were taken is now almost completely stripped of this and other interesting succulents. A result of plain unadulterated greed!

The first four pictures were taken between 18 and 28 Sept., the other two 20 Nov.

hawobaye2011_09_18#004-2

hawobaye2011_09_18#006

hawobayeDSC_3603

hawobayeDSC_3604

hawobaye_DSC0766

hawobaye_DSC0765

What’s in a name?

Like other names, a plant name is nothing more than a label, a way to refer to something or somebody, and to distinguish them from others.
Normally the name also gives you some extra information, but it is often unclear whether this is helpful or not. Let’s look at a few examples of this.
When you know that the Latin word pumilus means dwarf and you see that word as part of a plant name, you will expect that plant to be small, right? Well, yes …usually. There is a small plant in the Mesemb family called Antimima pumila. This is indeed a small plant, but so are most other Antimimas. The name only makes sense when you know that the plant used to belong in the genus Ruschia, where most plants are a lot bigger.
antipumi_DSC5160_lzn2res

There are worse cases however. While on the topic of small members of a group, what about Haworthia minima and H. pumila? They must be among the smallest of Haworthias, one would think. But no, they are about the biggest. Very confusing, until you find out that these species first were considered to be Aloes and as such they were dwarfs of course.

hawopumi2010_09_14#030_lznres
Haw. pumila

There are many more examples of peculiar and confusing names, often as the result of transferring species from one genus to the other.  What about Glottiphyllum linguiforme?

glotlinglDSC5445_lznres
Glottis is Greek for tongue, phyllum comes from the same language and means leaf; lingua is Latin for tongue and forme means what you think it means. As long as the species was part of the super genus Mesembryanthemum the name was nice and descriptive, but nowadays it is more funny than anything else.

gibbgibbDSC_3718_lzn-2res
A similar case is Gibbaeum gibbosum, where both parts of the name refer to the Latin word for hump (gibba).

In several cases plants get their names from the geographical area where they were first found (Fockea capensis, Pachypodium namaquanum,) but is is a bit of an awkward practice. Sometimes the plant is later found to have a much wider distribution then thought at first (Aloe angolensis also occurs in Botswana, Namibia and Zambia, Avonia rhodesica is found not only in Zimbabwe- the former Southern Rhodesia- but also in South Africa and Botswana; etc.).  The type material of Aloe littoralis was collected from a coastal area (near Luanda, Angola) and takes its name from that habitat. The distribution is now known to stretch right across the continent, so the name is rather misleading.

avonalbi2011_07_10#124_lznres
Avonia albissima is by no means the whitest species in the genus as the name implies.

crascolu2009_10_09#011_lznres
Crassula columnaris is usually anything but columnar.

A lot of plants have been named after people. Often this is the person who first found it (Tylecodon nolteei, Caralluma denboefii), which makes some sense, but sometimes the connection between plant and person is less obvious.
I remember the story of the Dutch horticulturalist  J. A.  Janse  who was writing a book on succulents plants named after persons.  Many of these names are of course well known, but after sifting through the literature he ended with a list of names that did not mean a thing to him.
One of the authors he approached for information was a distinguished French botanist who had described a couple of Kalanchoes from Madagascar.
After some time the botanist’s widow sent him a rather tart reply to his letter, in which she informed him that her husband has recently died and that the reason why nothing was known about these names, was that the ladies to which they referred had nothing to do with their namesakes, apart from the fact that at some stage they had been been her husband’s mistress.

The above should not lure you into thinking that the naming of plants is not a serious matter. It is, but to my mind a somewhat light-hearted approach to things can often make them just that little bit more interesting.