'if gorse is not in flower, kissing's not in season'!

Scottish proverb—a wander with an indigenous plant of Scotland

whin blossoms

Furze, fyres, fyr (Old English), or whin (seventeenth letter of the Celtic alphabet) are Scottish names for gorse, the indigenous Scottish shrub which cloaks Highland hills and lines Scottish roads in rich glowing yellow all year round, but especially in spring.

Travelling in May, 2023 with my Scottish cousin, Colin MacAlpine, his wife Christine, and my husband, Gary Sill, on the Scottish North Coast 500 road-trip, furze greets, overwhelms, titillates and challenges me from the time we leave Kinross on our way north. When I send her an article about gorse after returning to Canada Christine comments, “I’m wondering if perhaps you have gorse syndrome? This a little known syndrome where one is unnaturally obsessed with the plant.” I reply, “Indeed I do. My symptoms are occasional prickliness when confronted, love of the colour yellow, and a secret passion for hiding small birds and bees.”

Despite having written poems and stories extolling overlooked and under-estimated virtues of so called invasive species such as Scotch Broom, Himalayan blackberry and Japanese knotweed, (their common names signal the prejudice they face), my first impression of the exuberance of broom is to wonder if my idealistic mind-set is naive. Am I looking at a plant, indigenous or not, run amok in the Scottish countryside?

Our first accommodation, in Dornoch on the north sea, is in pods which resemble quonset huts in shape but are very comfortable, two person, self-contained dwellings, with a view of furze out back. They are run by a local croft of several families with common land. I ask about gorse. “Ah, we call it whin. I love the scent. makes for great honey.” Whin lines Dornach beach with a great swoop of yellow. I will learn that whin protects such sandy beaches from erosion, that the golden strips of gorse I see bisecting fields are furze dykes.

whin being, near Durnoch

As my North American prejudices relax I realize there is little difference between a pine covered hillside in Canada and a gorse covered hillside in Scotland. Both are naturally occurring partnerships of land and indigenous plant.

It is the colour which has so challenged and undone me.

Despite its wicked, rolled and pointed, thorn-like leaves gorse has traditionally been harvested for fuel (hence the older name fyr or fire), is ground into feed for livestock, is loved by foraging animals and makes delicious tea and honey. Like thorny hemlock (which also blooms all over Scotland in May) whin offers sanctuary to many species of small birds and insects. It thrives on depleted or disturbed land where it adds nitrogen to the soil, enriching it until the time when other plant species will take over in natural order of succession. Because branches, twigs and leaves of furze are spiny, which reduces water loss, furze can survive extreme exposure to wind and salt, conditions found on most of Scotland’s northern coast. It literally blankets the soil.

Another comparison with the pine covered, acidic soiled hills of Canada occurs to me. Like jack-pine, fire aids whin in propagation; fire is not an enemy of either plant. Whin produces hard, black, projectile seedpods which explode in fire, releasing their seeds. The sap which seals jack-pine cones, preventing their seeds from germinating, melts in fire, allowing the seeds to begin a new cycle of growth and renewal.

Does the yellow colour which surrounds them help account for the open hearted friendliness we encounter with every Scot we meet? On the street, in cafe’s and museums, doctor’s offices and shops, Scots defy their stereo-typed dour nature. Smiling is in season.

It’s the gorse, of course! As a flower essence, gorse encourages belief and hope as do the scent and colour of its blossoms. Our long days of driving, and frustrating searches for monuments in fields, pathways, and routes are lightened by jokes and laughter. We’re a motley band: sometimes lost, each handicapped in some way as befits our elder status, but keen, and grateful for the superb character of the Scottish land and soul.

near Lairg, Scotland