Derived from the Latin word pedis or foot, a peduncle is an important element in both the identification and appearance of a flowering plant. The peduncle is the stalk that supports a solitary flower or flower cluster. You are familiar with the arching that occurs when a plant needs water, particularly the flowering stem that supports the flower, it is usually the peduncle that curves, particularly on long floral stems.

One of the most important methods of identifying particular plants, especially lavender, lies in the length, color and hairiness of the peduncle. The airy gracefulness of French lavender or Lavandula x intermedia lies in the length, narrowness and lack of hair on the peduncle. Differences are based on the type of hair, whether they are pubescent, tomentose or hirsute. English lavender or Lavandula angustifolia and its cultivars are much more compact with shorter and wider peduncles. The floral stalk seems to mimic the peduncle in many lavenders with squat, much wider floral heads on English lavender and slim, pointed wands or floral stalks on the French types. The degree of coloring on the peduncle furthers the showiness with some that have dark purple peduncles, an easy target to seek in sorting different varieties and hybridizers naturally seek out particular ornamental strengths in the peduncles to pass along to future generations.

A peduncle that I feel is particularly flawed is that of Helleborus orientalis or lenten rose. As much as hybridizers work to enhance the size of the petal or color, the peduncle still leaves the floral head arching downward. One must either lift the flower (technically the showy sepals) or plant these helleborus in raised gardens so that they can look upwards into the flower. I'm sure that the helleborus purposely devised this method of flowering to protect the pollen from freezing temperature (so prevalent that early in the year), but can't hybridizers work to strengthen this particularly short peduncle, so that it does not bend?

My primary point though in isolating the peduncle, pronounced pee'duhng kuhl, comes from my pleasure in pronouncing it. Two years ago I was first introduced to the botanical term and I find myself repeating it as I spend each day, routinely taking care of flowering plants. On occasion I bend to see if a plant does indeed have peduncle, some do not (are they peduncleless), but most of the time I'm simply enjoying the word. No other botanical term has given me such pleasure.