The end of a New England winter is often accompanied by malaise. Our world’s pandemic stressors, environmental crises, and heartbreaking war images make this year feel even harder. It seems like a good time to feature a magnificently mysterious plant associated with renewal.
Ashfield resident Dan Frank, 51, learned of the Rose of Jericho recently when meeting with members of his band, Forest Avenue, to play tunes from Celtic and other genres.
The former proprietor of the instrumental shop Maude’s Music, as well as the founder of Maude’s Closet Concerts, Frank plays mandolin, hurdy-gurdy, and bouzouki with Forest Avenue. He also teaches private lessons “on most plucked strings,” including those mentioned above, plus electric bass and several types of guitars and ukuleles. He operates a recording studio, as well.
The multi-instrumentalist possesses impressive non-musical skills, too: he’s worked as a llama trainer, machinist, high school teacher, auto mechanic, and farmer. Even a brief conversation with the youthful grandfather of four imparts the sense that this guy has seen and done it all.
Yet when Frank’s bandmate Desiree Lowit displayed her Rose of Jericho plant at rehearsal, no one else had ever heard of it. That it bore little resemblance to a classic rose only heightened their curiosity.
“It was the strangest thing,” said Frank, “and since I gravitate toward the unusual, I was intrigued.”
Frank observed what looked like a ball of moss sitting in a bowl, partly moist and partly dried, with the bottom half submerged in water. “Desiree feels an affinity with the plant and sees it as a source of healing,” said Frank. “In this challenging era, that got my attention.”
Lowit explained, “My friend Bev and I learned about the Rose of Jericho through books about healing and self-care. As a therapist fascinated by different approaches to health, I wanted to learn more.”
Then Lowit received a Rose of Jericho plant for her birthday. “The plant has revived me in dark, wintry times. I love having it near me, especially when I feel overwhelmed by bleak and dire situations,” said Lowit. “The plant never dies and can go through long periods of desiccation — that’s the kind of symbolism I need these days.”
Soon after receiving hers as a gift, Lowit surprised each band member with their very own Rose of Jericho plants.
“Mine looked like a bundle of desiccated leaves and twigs,” said Frank. “But having met Desiree’s plant, I knew I could have my very own rehydrated Rose of Jericho by following simple instructions.”
A fan of plant lore, Frank enjoyed learning about the plant’s Biblical connotations. “It has an Old World, resurrection quality,” he said, “and many world religions celebrate the plant.”
Rose of Jericho is a moss native to desert regions. The plant can completely dry out, curl up over itself, and blow around like a tumbleweed until it finds water. “Then it unfurls to reveal gorgeous green fern-like fronds,” Frank said.
Frank brought his bundle home and “put it in a beautiful fluted green bowl with water.” He watched it transform within days. “It amazes me that a living plant can drift about like a tiny tumbleweed,” he said. “It looks dead, but once it finds water, it springs back to life.” This explains why “resurrection plant” is one of its many nicknames.
“I love the gorgeous Fibonacci structure of the rehydrated plant,” said Frank, referencing a numerical sequence wherein each number is the sum of the previous two — a formula famously mirrored in many natural world spirals, including sunflowers, fiddleheads, nautilus shells, and other horticultural and marine formations.
Frank learned there are actually two types of plants referred to as Rose of Jericho. ”Anastatica heirochuntica is the true — and rarer — Rose of Jericho,” he said, adding, “The kind my bandmates and I have is Selaginella lepidophylla, technically known as false Rose of Jericho.”
False or not, the variety adopted by members of Frank’s band belongs to the spikemoss family. The real Rose of Jericho, however, is no moss at all, but rather a flowering plant in the mustard family, Brassicaceae.
Here’s where it gets really weird.
The plant officially known as “real” — a tumbleweed native to Western Asia and the Middle East — doesn’t actually revive. Rather, it’s capable of repeated hygroscopic expansion and retraction, which superficially resembles revival.
Enthusiasts who wish to obtain a Rose of Jericho that genuinely revives must seek the version officially known as “false.” (Go figure.) Selaginella lepidophylla is native to the 200,000-square-mile Chihuahuan Desert, North America’s largest desert, which stretches across six Mexican states and parts of Texas and New Mexico. The plant is able to literally revive because it can regain metabolic function after a period of extreme desiccation.
Some people believe that water used to revive a Selaginella lepidophylla can enhance human life; they sprinkle the water on doors and doorsteps in the hopes of bringing prosperity. Some people add five coins to the water while the plant is reviving, and later wipe that water on doors and windows to invite prosperity to a home or business.
In some cultures, Rose of Jericho has been used by midwives to aid in childbirth and to reduce hemorrhage. Some believe that a pregnant woman who drinks water from the plant can speed labor; other enthusiasts simply keep the plant near the delivery bed.
Whether one believes any of the lore, or simply wishes to experiment with this fascinating plant, keep in mind that it requires no soil; the roots just need access to water. Every few weeks, remove the plant from water and let it dry out and curl up completely. Take care not to allow it to get crushed while in its dried state.
Once the Rose of Jericho has rested, revive the plant by placing it again in warm water. It will open significantly in a few hours, but may take a few days to regain full health and foliage.
“The promise of wondrous renewal is certainly welcomed right now,” Frank said. “I’ve survived the pandemic and other challenges largely by playing music with my comrades. It’s medicine for my soul, and has been for decades. Music’s healing power is an important part of what I share with my students — along with chord structures, dexterity, and tune patterns.”
But a miraculous plant in one’s living space? “It can’t hurt,” said Frank with a winsome smile. “More beauty? Sign me up!”
Dan Frank may be reached at maudesmusic@gmail.com.
Eveline MacDougall, author of “Fiery Hope,” is a plant enthusiast, artist, musician, and mom. She loves to hear from readers at eveline@amandlachorus.org and P.O. Box 223, Greenfield, MA 01302