Blue-Eyed Grass

by Eric Hunt

       Iris has a little sister whom you all know. At first glance, you might not think she was of the same family. As you grow in years and in the study of plants, you will see that she is.
       Out on sunny slopes early in the year, you often see masses of blue stars dotting the grass tops. "Blue-Eyed Grass'' we call these plants because their leaves seem so grass-like.
       Now that Iris has taught you that a calyx need not be green, you can easily pick out the parts of Blue-Eyed Grass. She has not such a graceful form as Iris, and has different shaped sepals, petals, stamens, and stigmas. Indeed, she seems to like a simple form. She makes her calyx and corolla nearly exactly alike.
       You see six blue or purple rays going out from the center, all looking alike. They all look like petals. Three are really sepals.
       Mrs. Blue-Eyed Grass sometimes makes the sepals a little wider than the petals, but not much. She always spreads out the six parts the same distance. Then she adds a point or so to their edges as if she wanted them to stretch out still farther. She puts the same yellow dash down their center. She gives them the same kind of honey paths.
       She arranges her stamens in full view. However, Mrs. Blue-Eyed Grass wanted a little change from the usual stamens. She broadened out her stems and joined them into a little tube. The three small anthers are hung on top of this tube.
       The pistil comes up through the stamen tube. It stands up in plain sight. Its knobby stigma does not look anything like the beautiful one of the Iris.
       You can easily see how Blue-Eyed Grass gets help in her seed-making. Little Miss Ant crawls up the grass-like stem until she lands on a flower. A sepal or a petal seems a broad platform to her after her climb up the narrow roadway. She does not stop to look at the view. Her nose tells her something good is in the pantry. The yellow center tells her eye where that pantry is. Down the honey path she goes. O, joy! Her nose and her eye have led her aright.
       The pantry is narrow, even for little Miss Ant. Though she be very orderly in her dining, she is sure to touch the stamen tube. Then, you know what happens. 
       The anthers open and pour the pollen over her. Then, she goes out to find another Blue-Eyed Grass pantry. In getting to it, she brushes against the knobby stigma and leaves the pollen on it.
       When the stigma receives the pollen and sends it down to the seed-case, it rolls back into three parts. That shows it does not care to use any more pollen. As the seeds ripen, the sepals and petals curl themselves up into funny shapes.
       The seedcase is not like that of the Iris, nor are the seeds the shape of the Iris seeds. Look at them for yourself.
       When you notice the leaves, you see that they grow as the Iris leaves do. They fold over each other and over the stem. I wonder if you would like to know what Botanists call this kind of leaf growth. I think it is not too hard a word for you. Its meaning always makes me smile. They say these leaves are ''equitant.' That means ''leaves riding astraddle'' as you ride a horse. Did you ever ride a horse? If not a real live horse, you must have ridden a rocking-horse. You just put one leg on one side and one on the other, and off you go. That is riding astraddle. You see Blue-Eyed Grass leaves and Iris leaves ride the stem this way, and so they are ‚''equitant leaves.‚'' Look in your home garden and see what other plants have their leaves riding horse back.
       In the Spanish California days, students used to make a purple ink out of Blue-Eyed Grass. They called it a pet name that meant ''little letters.'' In those days, it was not easy to get pens and inks. There were very few stores in the state. The children lived on ranches far from the stores. Think of the joy of finding in your own home field a little plant that would give you a fine violet ink.
       Imagine a little girl begging her Mama for some of the paper that the last sailing vessel had brought from Boston. She would whittle off the end of two feathers. Then, would write a letter to their cousins, perhaps, who lived at Santa Clara. Very carefully they wrote. Very, very carefully. It did not count that a whole field of ink did grow one jump over the fence. The paper took months to come in a sailing vessel. They could have very little of it.
       And what do you think? Her cousins wrote back to her in the same kind of violet ink?
       If students wanted a still stronger ink, take Blue-Eyed Grass's pretty sister, ''Golden-Eyed Grass.'' Her stain is even deeper purple. As you study her, you see that she is very much like Blue-Eyed Grass. Some people think her golden star prettier than the blue one.

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