THE FOLKLORE OF PLANTS: Fennel

Lisa Karen Miller

          So many of us make a resolution to lose weight.

          Every. Single. New. Year.

This year, fennel might just help us make it.  It has long been used as an appetite suppressant. William Coles, in Nature’s Paradise (1650) affirms that “…the seeds, leaves, and root of our Garden Fennel are much used in drinks and broths for those that are grown fat, to abate their unwieldiness and cause them to grow more gaunt and lank.”

Long before that, the seeds are mentioned in William Langland’s late 14^th century narrative poem Piers Plowman as being chewed by the poor to relieve hunger pangs.

Puritans called fennel seeds “meeting seeds” as they kept hunger at bay during those long dreary sermons, when they started daydreaming of their Sunday dinner.

Carrying a bit of fennel about your person would cause people to trust what you said. Placing fennel in keyholes prevented ghosts entering the house.  Snakes would rub against it to sharpen their eyesight.  It was also used as a remedy for snakebite.

Medieval folks used a face pack of fennel, tea, and honey to remove wrinkles – just the thing to complement your svelte new figure. It was also combined with honey in cough drops.

          This Mediterranean native is a close relative of dill, as evidenced by the feathery foliage and umbels of yellow flowers. Fennel can grow up to eight feet high. It tastes of licorice, but is lighter and sweeter.

          Fennel’s most famous story comes from Greek mythology.  Prometheus smuggled fire from the gods in a fennel stalk. He wanted to give mortals the knowledge of fire (he had already taught them to farm and fish), but Zeus insisted that fire was for Titans alone.

          When he found out what Prometheus had done, Zeus was furious.  He punished Prometheus, but that wasn’t enough.  He wanted to punish mankind also, because he couldn’t retrieve the knowledge that had been stolen.

          He created Pandora and offered her to man. Giving her a box, he instructed her never to open it, knowing that her feminine curiosity would not allow her to obey this instruction.

          When she finally succumbed to temptation, all the world’s woes and sorrows came flying out of the box.  The last to exit was a feeble but tenacious little thing.

          Hope.

          When you are confronted with the temptation to stray from your new healthy eating plan this time, don’t despair: there is always hope.

          This just may be the year we abate that unwieldiness for good and all.  

          © Copyright 2023 Lisa Karen Miller