THE FOLKLORE OF PLANTS: Watercress

Lisa Karen Miller

There is in Somerset, England a wet meadow called Stowell’s Meadow, or No Man’s Land.  A stream of the River Axe runs through it, and it has one of the best watercress beds for miles.

Country people would often gather and sell watercress at markets, thereby supplementing their meager incomes. It was a key ingredient in the dainty sandwiches offered to guests by posh ladies. Rich in vitamins and minerals, it also treated anemia and scurvy.

Each year, Stowell’s meadow comes up for auction by candle. A one-inch candle is lit, and each person bids in turn.  No one is allowed to cough, sneeze, or breathe too heavily, in order not to influence the candle. The last person to make a bid before the candle goes out gets the meadow for a year.

The preceding is perfectly true.  The meadow in question is now designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest. The following may or may not be true, but it is certainly a shining testament to human generosity. 

Before any of us were even thought of, there lived an old farmer in Tatworth who had fallen on hard times.  If he could get the lease of the meadow for a year, it would just about set him on his feet again. His neighbors knew his plight. Everyone wanted him to have the meadow, but rules were rules, and procedure had to be followed.

On the day of the auction, only two other men showed up to bid against him. The auctioneer lit the candle, and the first man very kindly put in his bid quickly. The candle started to sputter as if it would go out.  The old farmer’s son nudged him, and he quickly submitted his bid.

But the candle was still lit and the third man hadn’t entered his bid yet.  Winking at the first man, he took out his handkerchief to catch the “sneeze” that suddenly threatened to explode.

“You can’t sneeze in here!” the auctioneer shouted.  Thinking quickly, the man went to the door, thrust his hand out, and waved his handkerchief excitedly.  His faithful sheepdog came bounding inside, waving his tail wildly and causing a frightful draft.

The candle went out.

Wisely ruling that a dumb animal could not make a bid, the auctioneer declared that the poor old farmer had won the meadow for a year.  The watercress he gathered and sold kept him afloat until he could get his farm back in order.

He never suspected the kindly scheming of his neighbors, and his dignity remained intact.

© Copyright 2023 Lisa Karen Miller