By Jim McCausland, Sunset Magazine
You've heard it before: good gardeners take the trouble to learn botanical names so there won't be any confusion about what they're buying and growing. I'm quite sure I've given the lecture myself. "There are at least a half dozen plants representing several species with the common name 'loosestrife'," I say; "common names change from region to region, and in some cases from (human) family to family. You just can't trust them."
But in the years I've done this, nobody has had the presence of mind to ask me why the RHS Plant Finder, the last word on botanical names, has to be updated every year. Are botanical names as undependable as common names? The answer, I'm afraid, is "yes."
Consider this example. Because even an annual update of the RHS Plant Finder can't keep pace with botanical name changes, England's Royal Botanic Gardens (run by Royal Horticultural Society) and Missouri Botanical Garden created a wonderful web site called The Plant List. You can go there, key in the name of a genus and species, and learn whether the name is accepted, or a synonym, or unresolved. It turns out that of more than a million species names you might enter, about a quarter are unresolved, and nearly half are synonyms—that is, they were once, or were once thought to be, the correct name. But no more.
Further, when The Plant List gives you its judgment on the status of a name, it doesn't just say yay or nay; it supplies a confidence rating. For example, when I checked American elderberry, which was moved from S. nigra canadensis to S. canadensis, the confirming page tells me that they are mostly sure (two stars out of three) that this is right. There are even confidence ratings for synonyms and unresolved names—they are slightly certain (one star out of three), for example, that the nomenclatural status of Sambucus alba is unresolved. This reminds me of Winston Churchill's famous assessment of his prewar government: "they go on in strange paradox, decided only to be undecided, resolved to be irresolute, adamant for drift, solid for fluidity, all-powerful to be impotent."
The changes in genus names are shocking. Remember Chrysanthemum? Now it's been split into Ajania, Arctanthemum, Argyranthemum, Coleostephus, Glebionus, Leucanthemum, Nipponanthemum, Rhodanthemum, and Tanacetum. And if you're a native plant lover, you get to move Alaska cedar (a Chamaecyparis) to Xanthocyparis. And Eucalyptus? I don't even want to talk about it.
But with all these moves, guess what hasn't changed? Well, Shasta daisy (which has worn the names Chrysanthemum X superbum, C. maximum, Leucanthemum X superbum, and L. maximum) is still Shasta daisy. Alaska cedar is still Alaska cedar, and ponytail palm (once Beaucarnea recurvata, then Nolina recurvata, then back to Beaucarnea recurvata again) is still ponytail palm. Of course, it isn't really a palm, but we won't go there just now.
Everyone's hope—my hope, anyway—is that present advances in DNA fingerprinting will help taxonomists determine actual relationships in a way that allows them to fix names, then go away. But that's a future we will never see. For now, I feel my confidence in common names rapidly climbing from one star toward three.