Invasion of the Holiday Houseplant

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Every December, the poinsettia is inescapable in New York City. It seems to be in every reception area and on every checkout counter, its striking red flowers beautifully displayed, despite an obvious lack of light or water.

Superficially, it seems like the poinsettia has all the luck, selected from among thousands of plants to represent a holiday by an enormous population of human beings. But on closer examination, if the goal of any living organism is to reproduce, the beautiful poinsettia has done well for itself. By hitching its wagon to humans, it can now be found from the largest cities to the most remote outposts on a half-dozen continents. Like the apple in Michael Pollan’s groundbreaking book “The Botany of Desire,” the poinsettia — normally found in Mexico and Central America — has harnessed the forces of the world’s greatest pollinator (that is, humans) to spread its progeny.

Pretty sly for a plant.

The poinsettia is named for Joel Roberts Poinsett, the first American ambassador to Mexico (and mild-mannered botanist), who observed the shrub in the early 1800s and shipped a few north to his South Carolina greenhouses. The plant is now bred into dozens of different colors and shapes, and is a Christmastime fixture, sometimes sold slathered with glitter glue for extra “snowy” appeal.

The traditional Christmas colors red and green, so well-illustrated on your average poinsettia, were actually borrowed from the Celts. They were the colors of holly, a plant held sacred as an evergreen tree, sprigs of which were brought into homes each winter. So the Poinsettia was a natural, the red starlike flowers were associated with the star of Bethlehem, and the intense red color, the blood of Christ.

Casting aside the holiday glow, the poinsettia is nothing but a fancy spurge with a very descriptive scientific name. Euphorbia pulcherrima actually means “the beautiful Euphorbia.” As in all spurges, the real poinsettia flowers are inconsequential — they are the yellow buttons tucked into the middle of all that red. The plants’ specially modified leaves, or bracts, are the largest part of the show.

It is interesting to note that the beautiful Euphorbia has some tough relations, which can be found growing locally. Some of these invade far more than bodegas and discount stores; they are winter-hardy toughs that jostle themselves into fields and woodland edges.

Cypress spurge (Euphorbia cyparissias) comes to mind. A native of Europe, it can be found growing in many of New York City’s sandy fields, and is often one of the first plants to colonize a disturbed lot. Its narrow leaves and dense clusters of chartreuse “flowers” are quite attractive. Just like the poinsettia, its true flowers are tiny, surrounded by brightly colored bracts.

It is a shame that these flowers have no summertime holiday to celebrate, as it is far easier to re-bloom a cypress spurge than a poinsettia. I’ve found the plants unfortunately cooperative each and every summer, requiring no special encouragement to overtake the dry urban fields they prefer.