What do plants and dinosaurs have in common?

If you are relatively new to gardening, one of the first things you will notice when you are choosing flowers is that most plants are actually named by dinosaur experts, as is readily apparent by two facts: The names are a) unpronounceable, and b) ugly. Argyranthemum, for instance, is a pleasant little daisy-like flower, but it sounds like something that could have hung out with Tyrannosaurus Rex, wreaking havoc on the neighborhood, instilling terror in other creatures ("Argyranthemum invades village, causes havoc, tramples daisies").

There are exceptions to this, of course. Some plants appear to have been named by disease specialists, as we see with Scabiosa, which is a plant with beautiful, round purple blossoms but which sounds like something you would immediately make an appointment to see a world-renowned dermatologist about.

To offset this, most plants have been dubbed with common, more attractive names, such as painted daisy, pincushion, tickseed, etc. Sometimes even these common names become too difficult to remember, and one starts to refer to one's plants as "that plant with beautiful, round purple blossoms," "the yellow spiky thing," "the terror plant," etc.

In our yard we have Hesperis, which is also known as dame's rocket. It is called this because in the second year of its life, with no warning whatsoever, it shoots up like a rocket, towering over other plants in the garden, 75-year-old trees, your neighbors' houses, the local cell phone tower, local dames, etc.

I have discovered that, despite the glowing description of Hesperis on the little card that came attached to it from the nursery ("Delightful purple blossoms!" "You will love this flower!"), it does closely resemble a terrorizing carnivore. It has, in fact, been banned in Connecticut and Massachusetts and some Canadian provinces.The warnings I have been reading about Hesperis include:

• Plant is invasive.
• Will crowd out other plants.
• Will take over the universe.
• RUN!

This plant has already engulfed another one that was nearby, whose names -- Latin or common -- escape me, but this does not matter anymore since the plant is nonexistent now. I fear that mankind's only hope rests in Lamium, also known by the charming name dead nettle, which is located at the other end of our garden and is also considered invasive ("plant-eating"). Maybe the two will meet in the middle and, in some fierce "Battlestar Galactica Green" duel, battle it out.