Rhubarb Edible vs. Ornamental— Kindness Helps Heal

Originally published March 2015. Updated May 2026 with new reflections and garden stories.

Hello, fellow lovers of all things green,

On Sunday, I hosted brunch for friends who will be taking care of Jolee when I attend a Comfort Zone Camp weekend coming up. It’s the annual loss-by-suicide camp in cooperation with The Little Hope Foundation. What an honor to serve as the Big Buddy for a special young lady for the third time. Last year, the transformation from the year prior was heartwarming. Watching a young person move from withdrawn, perhaps in guarded grief, to opening and sharing her story with others her own age is something that stays with you—like a sunflower opening its petals one by one, as if God winks. It’s awe-inspiring—and a gift to be able to support her again.

Edible rhubarb makes a bold and beautiful statement in the garden.

Comfort Zone Camp “Rocks,” a Bereavement Camp for Kids and Young Adults.

I’ve been a volunteer at the bereavement camp for kids and young adults for 11 years, but this is the first time I’m attending without a life partner at home to help with my canine kid’s care. Leaving Jolee in the care of others brings a touch of anxiety. But how fortunate I am to have Don and Susan to help. She will be in loving hands.

Gardens Notice Things Too

        You may recall a previous story about Susan and Don, who became friends, as I got to know them while walking Jolee, in Mending Fences with Forsythia. We chatted during brunch that they now have new neighbors who are warm and kind, and how different the energy feels when people wave hello instead of looking the other way. Gardens notice those things too. They seem to breathe easier when the people around them do.

Susan is an avid gardener, and our brunch chat led to a plant chat. She mentioned that her rhubarb is ready for harvest and that she plans to make a rhubarb custard pie. Her plant sits just beyond her front walk, making a statement with its large, husky leaves and red and green stems. I mentioned my ornamental rhubarb, recalling a story about the difference between ornamental and edible rhubarb that stemmed from an audience question at a Springfest Garden Show talk on unusual deer-resistant plants.

Marty Carson and I touted the beauty of ornamental rhubarb. One audience member stumped us when he asked for the botanical name. That long-ago audience question still makes me smile—and perhaps because rhubarb itself straddles the line between beauty and usefulness, the answer feels especially fitting for this season of life.

What species of rhubarb is edible versus ornamental?

Rheum palmatum, commonly known as Chinese rhubarb (and perhaps ornamental rhubarb), is not edible. Rheum rhabarbarum is considered the edible kind (also known as R. rhaponticum), commonly called wild rhubarb in the United States and garden rhubarb elsewhere—proof of how confusing common names can be.

Even after harvest, rhubarb remains strikingly ornamental.

Edible rhubarb leaf stalks are edible, but the leaf blades contain oxalic acid, toxic to both deer and humans, triggering, in “Mary’s words,” an overdose of the Ex-Lax effect. It’s hardy in USDA Zones 3–8 and can live for decades in the right location. While edible rhubarb is attractive in a garden, it’s the ornamental kind that makes a dramatic, almost prehistoric-looking focal point.

Ornamental rhubarb is harmful if eaten! And that goes for you, too, deer. Though some deer seem to ignore the warning label from time to time– maybe they’re using it for medicinal purposes to promote regularity? Ha!

Rheum palmatum var. tanguticum creates a bold, almost prehistoric focal point.

One of the most colorful is Rheum palmatum var. tanguticum, growing nearly 6 feet high and 3 feet wide, with leaves that unfurl bronzy-red, then turn green on top and burgundy underneath. It blooms with spikes of reddish-pink flowers in summer, with foliage turning red again in fall. Rheum ‘Ace of Hearts’ is a popular, smaller variety, growing to about 3 feet tall and wide. Like the edible kind, ornamental rhubarb is perennial, returning each year.

Where to find edible or ornamental rhubarb?

Rhubarb is generally purchased as crowns or divisions and is best planted in early spring, when it is still dormant. They can be tough to find locally, but are available by mail order or online. They thrive in humus-rich, moist soil and prefer partial shade to full sun, but they appreciate having their roots kept cool with mulch, as they detest extreme heat.

A Garden Both Beautiful and Useful

The day after brunch, I asked if I could stop by to visit Susan and take a photo of her rhubarb plant. The plant was still beautiful after cutting stems for pie. She harvests from it all season long. If there’s more than she can use, she washes the stems, cuts them up, and freezes them.

Jolee is inspecting Susan’s edible rhubarb after harvest day.

Susan freezes extra rhubarb for future pies and treats throughout the season.

Nearby, a parsley plant came back to life—likely the snow cover helped it overwinter, which is unusual when they’re grown in the ground. I’ve had parsley in pots come back when stored along the foundation, though they aren’t always very tasty as they tend to become bitter as they go into flower. Susan will keep harvesting the parsley so that it won’t go into flower, she said.

There are so many edible plants that are beautiful in the garden, including eggplants, which Susan agrees can be hard to coax into fruit. I adore tomatoes intermingled among perennials such as echinacea, with parsley as an edging plant and nasturtiums tumbling with cheerful blooms that are both edible and ornamental.

Susan and Don grow pole beans on strings to climb from their front foundation garden to the roof of their front porch, offering shade and green beans. How clever—and attractive.

As I prepare to head off to camp, trusting Jolee in the care of kind friends, I’m reminded that we don’t have to do everything alone. Just as in the garden, where a mix of plants supports and complements one another, our lives are sustained by those willing to show up, lend a hand, and nurture what matters.

Pie, Tea & the Healing Power of Kindness

Susan’s picture-perfect rhubarb custard pie shared over tea and conversation.

Soon after my visit, Susan sent a photo of her rhubarb custard pie—picture-perfect, complete with a crisscross top crust. She invited me and my neighbor, Monica, who also works from home, to take a lunch break with pie and tea. It was a rainy afternoon, and her home felt especially cozy, lit by two oil-burning candles with the smell of pie and hot tea brewing.

Susan had received a gift set of blooming tea, described in German and several other languages on the package. These hand-tied bundles slowly unfurl into flowers when steeped in hot water. What a delight to watch—like tiny underwater gardens opening petal by petal in the teapot.

It struck me how often healing happens like that—not all at once, but slowly, quietly, in warm kitchens, over tea and pie and conversation with people who care.

How Kindness Helps Heal

Lately, I’ve been realizing just how many people have stepped in to help me through this difficult transition.

Dennis Briede—my “birder buddy,” whose meadow we’ve chatted about in several posts, including Woodcock Dance—Making a Meadow—helped teach me how to use the tractor and spotted me during my first cut this week. Monica and Bill, dear neighbors, are backup for Jolee while I’m away, and across the creek, Mike kindly cut up the downed dead tree that squirrels had nested in before it came crashing down during a storm a few weeks ago.

Then there’s my longtime friend from my Kiss-FM radio days, Jonathan Taylor—JT, as listeners knew him then—who has produced Songs of Hospice, helping bring a dream Ken and I share to life to honor the angel caregivers and sacred gift of sharing music with patients and families at Karen Ann Quinlan Hospice.

I could name so many more—you know who you are—and I am grateful. Including you, kind readers and listeners, as we share garden-of-life stories.

Allowing Others to be Kind

I visited Tara the other day—my client who has become a dear friend—with the layered garden we talked about in Leaf Mold vs. Mulch & The Lesson of Letting Go. She told me she’s noticed something in recent podcasts.

“Your heart is healing,” she said. “I can hear it in your voice.”

And it is.

I feel as though I am coming back to life.

We think we need to do everything ourselves. It feels uncomfortable to ask for help. But life begins to change the moment we allow others to be kind to us. We don’t need to carry everything by ourselves.

Gardens certainly don’t thrive that way.

Hand-tied blooming tea slowly unfurling petal by petal—like healing itself.

Nature intertwines roots beneath the soil. Trees communicate. Fallen leaves shelter parsley through winter snow. Pole beans climb with support.

And perhaps we do too.

A Call to Calm 

This morning, I tuned into Panache Desai’s Call to Calm meditation, which is free to access. He shared something that deeply resonated with me. He said something like:

“The whole point of being human is not to spend a lifetime trying to earn love from others, but to discover the love already within us—reflected back through others.”

And I’ll add… in the garden of life.

Indeed, the beauty of birdsong, leaves emerging in spring, and flower petals unfolding one petal at a time restores us, too.

Perhaps healing happens much like blooming tea in warm water… slowly unfolding into something beautiful we didn’t realize was still there.

It’s okay to smile again.

Amazing Grace.

Garden Dilemmas? AskMaryStone@gmail.com or tune in on your favorite Podcast App.

Prefer to Listen? 

This story is also shared in this week’s episode of Garden Dilemmas, Delights & Discoveries, with additional reflections from the screen porch:

If you enjoy unusual native plants, you may also like my earlier story, Skunk Cabbage Appeal, which shares rhubarb’s common thread of oxalic acid and other fascinating spring woodland traits. Also featured in this episode

🔗 Links to Related Posts and Podcasts: 

Mending Fences with Forsythia

Woodcock Dance — Making a Meadow

Leaf Mold vs. Mulch & The Lesson of Letting Go

• Parsley comeback story: Parsley Surprise 

Ep 96 – Mending Fences with Forsythia

Ep 101 – Woodcock Dance — Making a Meadow

Ep 247 – Nothing Is Wasted: Leaf Mold, Mulch & Letting Go

Special Mentions:

• Panache Desai – Call to Calm
• Karen Ann Quinlan Hospice
• Songs of Hospice project in Promises That Live Beyond Seasons

Thanks for listening and sharing in the Garden of Life. 🌻