I’ll admit it. I’m a fan of many weeds. (This should be no surprise, given the glowing write-ups I’ve given to many “assertive” non-natives here in the past). Growing up, the tough plants that grew in the gravelly alley behind our house, or the vacant lots near the railroad tracks where I wandered, imprinted on my psyche in a way those distant, more ecologically valuable native prairie plants—unknown, way off in a preserve—never did.
There are many points of interest on Prickly Lettuce, a slender but tall-growing non-native that can often be seen growing in cracks along sidewalks or curbs that have escaped mowing, the pretty little flowers being just one of them. The flowering stem can grow quite tall, with the clustered buds at the ends of drooping panicles sometimes at eye level. You may see the flowers open in the morning, and return in the afternoon to find them closed up tight against the heat of the day.
The leaves have jaggedly lobed edges, as if they had been irregularly chomped, and clasp around the stem. A row of rather flimsy prickles runs along the underside of the central vein of the leaf. The seeds are attached to a wispy white pappus and form a sphere similar to dandelions, though smaller and with fewer seeds. Also like dandelions, the stems and leaves bleed white sap when damaged.
Originally from Eurasia/the Mediterranean, Prickly Lettuce can be found throughout North America. It is thought to have been inadvertently introduced as a tag-along with desirable seeds that were brought to the continent, where it made itself at home in a wide range of habitats. It can be a pest in agricultural fields, though some bees will visit its flowers for nectar or pollen.
Like those other weedy plants, the scrappy habits and subtle prettiness of Prickly Lettuce are endearing to me.
