The Backyard Poisoner: Lily of the valley—Jillian Grant Shoichet
The Backyard Poisoner: Lily of the valley
(How To Get the Most out of Your Garden)
For a period of time in my childhood, I fed the chickens. The job had its ups and downs. The thrill of excitement that comes with placing a tin can firmly over the chicken’s head with one hand, lifting the soft, pulsating body of feathers with the other, and finding the smooth-pebbled globe nestled in the straw, warm and heavy, seemingly shaped to fit the human palm. The cacophony of distress that signals something very bad has entered the hen pen—when “very bad” is a young red-tailed hawk, wings spread 4 feet wide over its still-warm prey on a bare patch of soil now wet with blood, the other hens screaming against the far end of the enclosure. The hawk was too large and the prey too cumbersome for an easy getaway; hawk and flock were locked in it together, and neither wanted to be there.
I no longer remember how that particular event concluded. Maybe we opened a gate to the garden and the hawk dragged its prey to a wider, longer runway. Maybe the hawk left the carcass behind and sought a less troublesome dinner elsewhere.
Ups and downs, for everyone.
My favourite time of year to feed the chickens was spring. The path to the chicken pen was on an incline, and the slope had been overtaken by lily of the valley. In May and June, the lily of the valley was in bloom; I floated to the chicken barn and back on a cloud of perfume so heady and sweet that it overwhelmed the smell of chickens and rodents and layer mash. I picked small bouquets and used them to doll up the dollhouse, beautify the dinner table, add a whiff of whimsy to my hair.
When I settled on Vancouver Island as an adult, I dug up some of that childhood hen-pen slope and brought it with me. Now the lily of the valley is in a small grouping at the back gate, getting larger each year as the plants force their rhizomes through the hard-packed clay soil. The lily of the valley is in bloom as I write this, and I can call to mind the scent—delicate, because the clump is less densely populated than the one that led to the childhood coop—but just as intoxicating as it was years ago.
As a mature, less whimsical woman, I no longer decorate the doll house (which sits in a neglected corner of the rec room because my children have long been too cool to play with it). Where I once intentionally added flowers to my coif, now my children pick leaves and seeds out of my hair and tell me I can’t go to the grocery store looking like a forest gnome. As I settle more firmly into my middle age, digging my toes like rhizomes into the fertile soil of my garden, I have come to understand that almost everything in the backyard, like the childhood task of feeding the chickens, has its lights and darks, its ups and downs.
Lily of the valley is a particularly light-dark, up-down, two-faced sort of plant.
The fragrant Convallaria majalis bears no resemblance at all to the traditional (Oriental or Asiatic) lily (from the Liliaceae family), or to the day lily (from the daylily family, or Asphodelaceae). In fact, lily of the valley is not a lily at all. The plant is actually from the same family as asparagus (Asparagaceae). But unlike its edible cousin, lily of the valley is highly toxic when ingested, and while one could, technically, wrap a few lily of the valley stalks in prosciutto and serve them to guests, poisoning by accident is no longer a reliable defence in cases of murder.[1]
Despite its darker character, throughout history this sweet-faced plant with its intense olfactory traits has been understood to symbolize happiness. It’s a favoured component of wedding bouquets—particularly royal ones (most famously, the bouquets of Grace Kelly, who married Prince Rainier III of Monaco; Lady Diana Spencer in her wedding with then crown prince now King Charles III of England; and Kate Middleton, now the United Kingdom’s Princess Catherine, in her wedding with Prince William).[2] As a favourite of the late Queen Elizabeth II, lily of the valley was also featured in that monarch’s coronation bouquet.[3] In fact, the bloom’s royal ties go all the way back to biblical times. The common name “lily of the valley” is likely a translation of a famous line in the second book of the Song of Songs, attributed to King Solomon, the son of King David of Old Testament fame: “I am a rose of Sharon, shoshanat ha-amakeem [a lily of the vallies]”. The poem reflects on themes of tenderness, beauty, and loyalty.[4]
The highly poisonous plant has also come to symbolize purity. One of the plant’s common names, Mary’s tears (or Our Lady’s Tears), stems from the Christian legend that the blooms grew from where Mary’s tears, shed at the crucifixion of Jesus, soaked into the earth. The plant plays a role in other legends, too—and always a noble one. The Celts understood lily of the valley could ward off evil spirits. In Norse mythology, the flowers are associated with the goddess Ostara, symbolizing new beginnings and fertility. The Finnish and Swedish terms for the flower are still used today as a first name for girls.[5] In the mid-sixteenth-century French court of King Charles IX, ladies were gifted with small bouquets of lily of the valley for good luck. Today, lily of the valley is the star of the French labour holiday on May 1 (La Fête du Travail). The day is also known as La Fête du Muguet (the festival of lily of the valley, or Lily of the Valley Day), and people give loved ones bouquets of the toxic bloom as a symbol of devotion—with nary a hint of irony.
In the perfume industry, lily of the valley has been the subject of a long history of experimentation (it was apparently Christian Dior’s preferred floral scent).[6] But with the sort of duplicitous spirit that the perceptive reader and gardener should by now associate with the plant, lily of the valley refuses all attempts to extract from it any natural aromatic oils. Its scent in perfumes today is created synthetically,[7] with varying results.
For a plant whose smell and toxicity pack such a walloping punch, lily of the valley is visually unassuming. It grows in vertical clumps, which multiply and spread, acting as a ground cover, perhaps growing to 12 inches in height at a maximum. Its leaves are smooth and green and generally oblong. It produces single stems of bell-like flowers, typically white but sometimes light pink, with five or 10 blooms along one side of the stem. In fall, the plant sometimes produces small, smooth-skinned orange berries (though none of the plants in my garden have ever done so—which is unfortunate, because the berries are one of the most potently toxic parts of the plant and, I imagine, would work well in a salad with goat cheese, a bit like candied cranberries, or in those rare instances when a poisoner wishes to bump off a small child, such as a toddler dauphin of France).
Convallatoxin, the primary toxic compound in lily of the valley, is present in all parts of the plant and will even leach into the water used for a bouquet. Significant exposure will disrupt the heart’s normal rhythm and can lead to dangerous irregularities. Eventually, seizures, coma, even cardiac arrest are possible,[8] but not reliably so, despite what episode 4 of season 13 of Breaking Bad would have us believe.[9]
In spite of the plant’s toxicity, it is difficult to find definitive historical evidence of fatal poisonings. Many of the non-fatal poisonings so far attributed to lily of the valley are incidental, due to an individual mistaking the rhizomes for wild onion or garlic.
If you’ve been following The Backyard Poisoner, you’ll recall that a surprising number of poisonings can be explained by an individual mistaking [X toxic plant] for [wild onions/wild garlic]. This leads to two useful interpretations. First, a plausible course for the poisoner: almost every poisoning within your purview can be explained as a case of mistaken identity. Second, a cautionary recommendation for the potential victim: Source your onion from a commercial seller, and, in the event that you are invited for lunch, bring your own garlic.
Lily of the Valley
Gardener’s notes:
A reliable, resilient groundcover, with a heady perfume in May and June. Though small, the bell-like blooms of lily of the valley are long-lasting, both in the ground and in bouquets. Berries, if they develop and ripen, are a tiny but pleasing pop of colour in the lower-level foliage of the fall garden. The plant does well in temperate climates but does not like excessive heat or excessively dry weather.
First responder’s notes:
A medical practitioner will be hard-pressed to know a case of lily of the valley poisoning; symptoms can be wide-ranging in presentation and severity and will depend on the size of the person and the amount of toxin ingested. Gastrointestinal symptoms typically present first, as nausea, vomiting, stomach pain, and diarrhea. More serious cardiovascular signs may appear over time, including a slow or irregular heartbeat. Neurological effects are possible: headache, drowsiness, and confusion. The victim may complain of blurred vision or see a halo around objects. A trip to the emergency room is recommended.
Writer’s notes:
From a writer’s perspective, lily of the valley is not an ideal murder agent. However, if an unpredictable poisoning event is what the writer is aiming for, then lily of the valley might work well.
Pro:
As noted, it’s easy to pass off a case of lily of the valley poisoning as accidental; also as noted, mistaken identification of a toxic substance is a poor defence when the accusation is murder. Far better to orchestrate an event where the victim accidentally poisons themselves.
Contra:
Dosing is unpredictable. One might sicken someone whom one meant to kill or kill someone whom one meant only to harm.
Pathologist’s notes:
Glycosides like convallatoxin and digitalis (derived from foxglove) are easily identified in a postmortem toxicological examination of the blood, urine, and stomach contents. Superficially, glycosides look similar to each other, however, and further testing may be required to determine which glycoside (and therefore which plant) was the cause of death.[1]
Murderer’s best-case scenario:
Because lily of the valley is fundamentally unpredictable as a murder weapon, the murderer’s best bet is to make a tea of all parts of the plant[2]—including the leaves, the rhizomes, and the berries—and then ply the victim with a goodly amount on an empty stomach. Afterwards, it’s wise to rinse the teapot thoroughly.
Final score (taking into account toxicity, certainty, detectability, and ease of use, including preparation and clean-up): 4/10
[1] “Australian woman found guilty of murder after serving poisonous mushrooms to in-laws for lunch”, CBC News, 7 July 2025.
[2] Marie Périer, “Lily of the valley is the bridal flower chosen by Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly”, Vogue France, 18 May 2021.
[3] RHS Editorial, “The Royal Family’s Favourite Flowers”, n.d.
[4] For a word-by-word treatment, see BibleHub’s translation of Song of Solomon 2:1.
[5] Spiritual Meaning of Everything, “Unveiling the Profound Spiritual Significance and Symbolism of Lily of the Valley in Various Cultures and Traditions”, 22 November 2024.
[6] Stuart Dyer, “Christian Dior’s Lucky Lily of the Valley,” Classic Chicago Magazine, 3 June 2023.
[7] Mackenzie Wagoner, “An Insider’s Guide to the Best Lily of the Valley Perfumes of All Time”, Vogue, 1 May 2015.
[8] BiologyInsights.com, “What Is Convallatoxin and Why Is It Dangerous?”, 27 June 2025.
[9] Lily of the valley played a key role in the plot of this episode.
[10] Death Scent, “The Poisoned Garden: Lily of the Valley”, 3 September 2018.
[11] D.P. Lyle, The Crime Fiction Writer’s Blog, “Q&A: Lily of the Valley Poisoning”, 15 November 2010.