Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: MONDAY, August 7, 1995                   TAG: 9508090033
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: A-7   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

NIGHTSHADE

But I do have a nightshade growing in the mock orange bush right out by the front porch.

It's a bittersweet nightshade (Solanum Dulcamara), also known as ``bitter nightshade," ``felonwort," ``violet-bloom," ``woody nightshade," and sometimes, albeit incorrectly, ``deadly nightshade.''

``An aggressive and persistent weed,'' according to one of my reference books. ``Rare,'' according to another. ``Poisonous,'' according to them all.

This climbing vine with purple, star-shaped flowers grows clusters of berries that sparkle a brilliant red when ripe. Its leaves are ``ovate, usually with lobes at the base.''

``Which are the poisonous parts?'' the Man of the House wanted to know, when I pointed it out to him.

I replied, ``Would it really be smart to tell you?'' Those pretty red berries are, in truth, quite appetizing.

But all parts of bittersweet nightshade are poisonous; consequently, it ``should not be used without medical supervision.''

This, according to a reference book called "Magic and Medicine of Plants."

Which tome goes on to report that ``Pharmacologists have studied bittersweet's use in herbal medicine as an internal antirheumatic, diuretic, narcotic, and sedative, and as an external astringent. They find little evidence to validate any of these uses ... ''

What, then, is the point of ``medical supervision"?

And whom, do you suppose, was found willing to test these various uses, with or without said ``medical supervision''? Perhaps the felons referred to in the name ``felonwort.''

Clearly someone was, at some point, persuaded to taste a nightshade concoction, as "Medicine and Magic" asserts that ``the flavor of the berries ... is first bitter, then unpleasantly sweet.''

Unpleasantly sweet? Unpleasantly? Perhaps it is the certain knowledge of coming convulsions that turns that sweet taste so sour.

"Reader's Digest North American Wildlife" declares that this plant is called ``bittersweet ... because the taste of its root and berries changes in the mouth of one foolish enough to chew them.''

Well, I think we've established the folly. Foolish felons! Tasting that unpleasant sweetness, not just once, but twice.

Eggplants, potatoes, tomatoes and horse nettles are also members of this botanical group. I remember a favorite story from grade school: that there once was a time, on these fair shores, when tomatoes were considered poisonous. ``Love apples,'' they were called.

That story recommended itself to me then on two scores. At the time I didn't like tomatoes and delighted in any excuse to avoid them. Also, the name ``love apples'' implied that tomatoes' poisonous qualities had been discovered in some desperate Romeo-and-Juliet-style sacrifice. ``What!? You won't have me? I'll eat a tomato, then!''

There is nothing in this world, I think, that's clearly black and white. My nightshade vine, a dangerously tempting beauty, poisonous as sin, is lovely in the sun. Snakes in the pump room keep mice out of the kitchen. And now that I like tomatoes - truly love them, in fact, with a love worthy of a fruit called ``love apples'' - a real tomato, squishy with juice, is nowhere to be had.

Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times columnist.