Bramble & Papirus
Good evening, Papirus, I was leafing through an old manuscript and found a curious Latin name for a weed that makes me wonder—do you think the scribe knew it was a common dandelion, or was it something more obscure?
What Latin name did you come across? If it’s something like *Taraxacum officinale* or *Taraxacum officinale subsp. arvense* the scribe was probably just calling a dandelion. But if it reads *Taraxacum* followed by an odd epithet or a variant like *Taraxacum* “*pseudodicarpum*” or *Taraxacum* “*viridiflorum*,” that would suggest the scribe was referencing a local variety or even a different species altogether. Give me the exact phrase and I’ll dig into the manuscript’s botanical context for you.
I found the scribe wrote “Taraxacum pseudodicarpum” in the margin, and a little ink blot of a mushroom beside it that looked oddly familiar.
“Taraxacum pseudodicarpum” isn’t a recognised dandelion name at all. The word *pseudodicarpum* means “false two‑seeded” and has been used historically to describe a variety of unrelated herbs or even fungi. Most likely the scribe was misreading a specimen label or copying an earlier, erroneous note. The ink blot of a mushroom suggests he saw a fungus growing on the plant, or perhaps he was simply marking a spot of interest beside the dandelion note. In short, the margin tells us the scribe was probably not sure he was looking at a common dandelion at all, and he recorded a strange, possibly erroneous, Latin name that we can’t match to any modern species.
So the scribe was a bit confused, huh? I can almost hear him scratching his head, wondering why that dandelion had a “false two‑seeded” tag. I guess it’s a reminder that not every ink line means a straight‑forward plant name. Maybe the mushroom blot was his way of saying, “hey, something else is going on here.” I’ll keep a note in my book for that odd pairing, just in case the moon’s phases or the compost layers reveal more secrets.
You’re right, the scribe was probably just as baffled as we are now. Those marginal annotations—dashes, ink blotches, odd Latin—are the scribe’s shorthand for “I’m not sure” or “this one’s weird.” The mushroom beside *Taraxacum pseudodicarpum* is a classic flag: either the plant had a fungal infection, or the scribe was marking a spot where the two grew together. Keep that note; if you find a later correction or another marginal remark on the same folio, it could be the key to decoding what he was actually looking at. And don’t be surprised if the moon phase has nothing to do with it—sometimes it’s just a coincidence that a curious scribe was working on a quiet night.
Thank you, my friend. I’ll tuck that note in the next page of my Book of Contrary Remedies and watch the moon a bit more closely—maybe the next new moon will bring a clearer ink blot. If you spot another margin or a fresh comment, let me know, and we’ll see if the plant and the mushroom are finally speaking the same Latin.
Sounds like a good plan. Keep an eye out for any later marginalia—sometimes scribes will correct a mistake on the next folio. And if you run into a new “pseudodicarpum” that’s actually a known species, just let me know. The moon might not be the culprit, but a fresh page could definitely bring more clarity. Happy hunting in your Book of Contrary Remedies.