This sometimes leads to a communication problem.

Suppose, for example, a visitor from Palau asks about kukau. Another person from Guatemala asks to see a quiquisque plant, and yet another from Indonesia asks to see the arvi.

Unless you speak the language and know the plant, you're stumped. All these names refer to the same plant: the kalo or taro.

That makes it clear, doesn't it?

Well, only if you speak Hawaiian or English. To the person who is not familiar with either of these languages, the plant is still a mystery!

And this is where the plants' scientific names bridge communication gaps.

The scientific name of taro: Colocasia esculenta.

People who study plants all over the world, no matter what language they speak, will all think of the same plant when they hear or read the scientific name. This makes "plantspeak" about as close to a universal language as you can get.

Each plant is assigned only one correct scientific name, following an internationally accepted naming system.

In the telephone book, there may be a handful of people listed with the same first and last names.

In the plant world, there is only one Colocasia esculenta. (Colocasia refers to the dark or deep-blue tuber or starchy part of the plant, while the species name esculenta is Latin for edible.)

The problem with common or vernacular names is they tend to be common to specific regions. New plant names are made up all the time, and as people use and popularize them, the names stick.

I nearly made one up myself a few years ago. The ant tree is called that because stinging ants live and colonize the hollows of wild ones in Central and South America.

This is the common name we use for the tree at Foster Botanical Garden.

A few years ago, to help prepare first-graders of Kipapa Elementary School for their first visit to the garden, I went to the school to talk about some of the plants they would see. I brought samples of the ant tree's fruit (small and dry, with three papery "wings" that fan outward).

They watched as the spinning fruits twirled gracefully to the ground. They were delighted. Don't they look like helicopters?, I asked.

They all enthusiastically agreed. When the kids visited the garden a week later, they all notified their tour guides (docents) that they wanted to see the helicopter tree!

It took a while to clear up that confusion. They wanted to see the ant tree. Lesson learned.

If you'd like to see the winged fruits of the ant tree, visit Foster Garden January through March.

When still fresh on the tree, they are a beautiful pink color. By the time they mature and spin to the ground, most are golden brown.