BOTANICAL NAMES -- SO MUCH EASIER THAN YOU THINK
A Comforting Intro to What is Still the Bane of Too Many Gardeners
Whether you are a backyard gardener, a nursery professional, or a florist, eventually you will have to deal with botanical plant names. The use of these names makes communication between widely scattered gardeners and plantspeople more precise.
First, I need to point out some of the many short-comings of common names:
Different languages use different names. Sure, your neighbor is American (probably), just as you are, but their heritage isn’t necessarily the same as yours and the plant names they grew up learning aren’t always the same as yours..
Many plants have more than one “common” name. The plant Caltha palustris, for instance, has 60 French names, 90 local British names, and 140 German vernacular names! Even in North America, where the plant is usually called "marsh marigold," it also goes by “kingcup” and “cowslip.” Yellow cedar is also known as yellow cypress, Alaska cedar, and Nootka cypress but yes, they are all the same plant. Such diversity of names varies from region to region within the US.
They change with time. For example, Douglas-fir (note the hyphen to help distinguish it from “true” firs, which are Abies) used to be Douglas spruce (which is Picea); Hydrangea used to be mophead and hortensia. Oh, Douglas-fir is Pseudotsuga, which is neither a fir nor a spruce but is, if anything, a larch.
They are ambiguous. Many common names are used for different unrelated species, especially "pine" and "cedar" among our conifers (e.g., white-cedar, yellow-cedar, and red-cedar aren't really “cedars;” note the hyphens, again).
The use of such common names has created real, practical issues for gardeners. For instance, “morning glory,” a term properly used for ornamental vines, mostly annual species or tender perennial species used as annuals, is often applied to weedy species of the same family (Convolvulaceae), such as Hedge Bindweed and Field Bindweed. The gardeners’ questions then become “Should I keep the bindweed because it’s a beautiful morning glory?” or “Should I dispose of my morning glory because it’s a pernicious weed?”
Many species of plants don't have common names. Believe it or not. Many. Some of these poor nameless souls have been given unimaginative “place markers” (ostensibly in hopes that someone creative will bless them with a gardener-friendly moniker). An example: Monardella sheltonii is dubbed Shelton’s Monardella in academic literature; the Monardellas, as a group, being commonly called coyote mints. I’ve done a good deal of creative name dubbing.
And then there are the advantages of botanical names:
Each species has a single such name. The name is unique to that one species.
They are formalized by international convention at Botanical Congresses held since 1864.
Scientific Latin is spoken throughout the world.
They don't change. In theory at least. The fact is, botanical names have had their fair share of renovation. Botanists have worked hard to find the original naming or find the most accurate relationships of plants. The new sciences of DNA identification, especially, has shed new light on plant relationships. The goal of the science behind nomenclature is to standardize naming using a variety of “tools” and peer consensus. Essentially, to make distinctive scientific names more “common.”
When searching for information about a plant using on-line sources, using a botanical name will get you more information, more accurate information, and many more relevant photos than using a common name. A side story (and a lesson): as a breeder of Amaryllis belladonna (not Hippeastrum, the popular houseplant COMMONLY called “amaryllis”) and bigeneric hybrids thereof, I know it would be unwise to suggest entering the common name for this plant in the search field when looking for photographs. Amaryllis belladonna, if you didn’t already know, goes by the common name of “Naked Ladies” (which by the way, is a common name applied to at least a handful of bulb species that have the habit of putting up flower spikes before foliage appears, hence appearing “naked” while in bloom).
If pronunciation of botanical names is your holdup, let me stop you from throwing up a mental block before you even start. You’re already using plenty of botanical names as common names and you seem to have no problem (most of you anyway) with saying them. Think about Asparagus, Begonia, Bougainvillea (maybe a little tricky), Canna, Chrysanthemum, Cosmos, Eucalyptus, Fuchsia, Gardenia, Hibiscus, Hydrangea, Impatiens, Iris, Magnolia, Penstemon, Petunia, Sequoia, and Verbena. Yes, they’re all botanical names. This is, of course, but a tiny sampling; gardeners already use hundreds of botanically names COMMONLY.
Sure, there are plenty of so-called “rules” for pronouncing this version of Latin (don’t get me started on diphthongs, a word in itself hard to pronounce!).
William Thomas Stearn in his seminal book “Botanical Latin” says “Botanical Latin is essentially a written language, but the scientific names of plants often occur in speech. How they are pronounced really matters little provided they sound pleasant and are understood by all.” For a deep dive into the everything-you-need-to-know category, buy or check out a copy of the book:
A.W. Smith in “A Gardener's Handbook of Plant Names” concurs with Stearn with “Within reasonable limits, nobody need be too disturbed about pronunciation.”
Liberty Hyde Bailey, Jr. (world renown plantsman, botanist, taxonomist, horticulturist, writer, cofounder of the American Society for Horticultural Science, and “America’s Father of Modern Horticulture”) said: “There is no standard agreement on rules for the pronunciation of botanical binomials*. Even in the best practice, there may be variations in pronunciation of a given word; this is unavoidable, and no more to be regretted than similar variations in pronouncing many English words. The particular sound to be given the vowels (within the categories ‘long’ and ‘short’) rests with the individual.”
Keep in mind, too, that Botanical Latin is not classical Latin. There is therefore little need to utilize strictly classical Latin pronunciation (otherwise, it sounds like a post-sermon aside in an Italian Catholic mass, of which I’ve heard my share). Such names are “Latinized” but not exactly Latin. They are not “Latin names.”
It may seem simplistic but what sounds right is often the best standard by which to decide how to pronounce botanical names. Just use the English sounds for vowels and consonants.
It’s 2025 — time to add “learning a new language” to your list of personal improvement goals.
© copyright Joe Seals, 2025