Named by those who noticed.
It doesn’t bloom. It rises.
Feathery grey-green foliage, soft as ash, and small purple-pink flowers that drift upward like something halfway between a flame and a sigh.
In old herbals, it was called Earth Smoke, not for its color, but for the way it seemed to waft from the soil itself. Delicate. Elusive. The kind of plant you might overlook until it catches the light just right.
Fumaria officinalis once had its place in medicine chests, used to clear the skin, the liver, the mood. Even now, it grows along hedgerows and forgotten fields, unconcerned with its own history.
Not rare. Just subtle.
The kind of beauty you have to be still long enough to see.
Named by those who noticed.
It doesn’t bloom. It rises.
Feathery grey-green foliage, soft as ash, and small purple-pink flowers that drift upward like something halfway between a flame and a sigh.
In old herbals, it was called Earth Smoke, not for its color, but for the way it seemed to waft from the soil itself. Delicate. Elusive. The kind of plant you might overlook until it catches the light just right.
Fumaria officinalis once had its place in medicine chests, used to clear the skin, the liver, the mood. Even now, it grows along hedgerows and forgotten fields, unconcerned with its own history.
Not rare. Just subtle.
The kind of beauty you have to be still long enough to see.
9.5” x 15.75”
Custom framing available upon request, please inquire.
