Winter Holiday

Hello!

Planted Cloud is dormant until the New Year.  More posts about the wonderful worlds of horticulture and  landscape design in the new year!

Euphorbia pulcherrima

Chance are, you read that botanical name and didn't realize it was the name for what may be one of the most recognizable plants in the country, poinsettia.  The specimens below are growing next to a fairly recognizable man, George Washington.  These shots were taken at the National Cathedral. 

 

Poinsettias are named for Joel Roberts Poinsett, the first US minister to Mexico.  The plant is native to Mexico, though can be found in some other parts of Central America.  Its association to Christmas began in the 16th Century in Mexico, when folklore began to tell of a young woman who was too poor to offer gifts to the church. She gathered weeds, presented them to the altar, and the next day they became brilliantly red flowers.  

Of course, here comes the part where I ruin some of the fantasy of the story.  The red "petals" one associates with a poinsettia flower are merely bracts.  The small yellow and red bundles above are the actual flowers.  Bracts are modified leaves and in the case with this species, they turn red only after they consistently receive twelve hours of darkness each night.  This is called photoperiodism.  The red (or white, pink or marbled hues) are brightest however if the daylight is as bright as possible.  Of course, nearer to the equator, this light requirement is easily achievable all year long.

In Mexico, the plant is commonly referred to as "noche buena" which is also a term for Christmas Eve.  Given this, it seemed like an appropriate plant for today's post.  Merry Christmas!

Fontainebleau and Oranges

Here's a shot of the (rather grand) entry stairs at The Palace of Fontainebleau, one of the great Royal Châteaux of France.  Far to the right, you'll notice a wee tree.  

Truly French, the trees are oranges (Citrus) in Versailles planters.  French châteaux almost always have oranges to be found, the most famous appear at the l'orangerie de Versailles.  Orangeries were popularized first in Italy during the renaissance and soon after in France, the Netherlands and England.  They became possible only after the invention of large panels of clear glass, which of course allowed light to travel indoors and keep such plants alive. 

Fontainbleau itself has a unique connection to the history of orangeries and Versailles.  When André Le Nôtre had completed design and construction administration of Louis XIV's grand palace, the orange trees that previously inhabited the Fontainebleau orangerie were moved to Versailles.

Legend has it that one of the oranges sent to Versailles in 1686 had existed since 1499, when the Queen of Navarre sent Queen Anne of Bretagne a gift of orange cuttings.  The tree was grown first in the Chateau of Chantelles, then moved to Fontainebleau.  It was called 'The Grand Bourbon.' The tree was mentioned years later, in 1857, in Armand de Quatrefages de Breau's, The Rambles of a Naturalist on the Coasts of France, Spain and Sicily. 

Norway Spruce and Rockefeller Center

I have some new material scheduled for later today, but for now, let me direct you to last year's NYPAOS post on the Norway spruce (Picea abies). Norway spruce is typically the tree that is selected each year for Rockefeller Center. 

Christmas Rose

I first posted these pics of Helleborus niger, or Christmas rose, last year during my coverage of the NYBG holiday show.   I'm re-posting them today because, well, it is the holidays and it's the second post today.  And, they're beautiful plants.  To read more about them, check out my discussion on NYPAOS.  

Acer capillipes

Last year, I spent quite a few days posting pics of the NYBG's holiday show, alternating pictures of their beautiful, natural models of NYC architectural icons with plants that were showy this time of year.  One of the plants I never got around to posting about was Acer capillipes or snakebark maple.

I first noticed the plant from afar -- the red sheen to the tree immediately made me suspect I was looking at a red maple (Acer rubrum) or a Japanese maple (Acer palmatum).  Both of those species' buds enlarge at this time of year, as I've noted in the past.

 

Acer capillipes is native to Japan and closely related to the popular striped maple, Acer pensylvanicum. Like red maple, the plant is naturally found in somewhat wet areas, like along streams and riverbanks.  The leaves almost resemble those of a viburnum - they are trident-shaped with coarse serrations. 

More Ilex verticillata, who can resist?

Some of you may be tiring of Ilex verticillata, but not me.  Here's a shot as we passed Longwood Gardens in Pennsylvania.  Unfortunately, time didn't allow for a quick visit, but perhaps someday soon I'll get back there and take some more photos (the only photos I have are, shamefully, on film. I don't have any digital shots!).

From Australia: Pararistolochia praevenosa

Pararistolochia praevenosa: Richmond Birdwing Butterfly Vine

Reaching the sun drenched outer limits in the canopy over the vine forest, after a mammoth vertical, always tortuous climb; and still growing a woody striated girth, around whatever it can find, the Richmond Birdwing Butterfly Vine (Pararistolochia praevenosa) spreads out in search of the green/blue horizon.

Below in the canopy, the liana projects its glabrous, sometimes rusty pubescent new growth into adult leaves, leathery & shiny.  This is the foliage that attracts one of the largest, sweetly coloured butterflies in Australia.  The Richmond Birdwing butterfly (Ornithoptera richmondii) glides by, inspecting for sites to deposit, greenish-yellow eggs, singly or in small clusters, as the climber appears to rest.

Pararistolochia is a member of the Aristolochia family, commonly called the "Dutchman's Pipe" or "Pipevine" in reference to the ‘pipe’ shaped flowers.  It is represented in Australia with about 7 species.  Aristolochia littoralis or A. elegans (Calico Flower) a closely related species is an intruder, both in the southern United States and Australia.  Here in Australia the Birdwing Butterfly is attracted to the foliage of this species but unfortunately it kills the caterpillars. Efforts to avoid this plant’s spread are ongoing.

 

To A Butterfly by William Wordsworth

I've watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! - not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

 

 

Garry Thomas is a practicing ecologist with over 20 years of field survey and scientific reporting experience.  Living on the Sunshine Coast in South East Queensland he specializes in plant ecology and his research work involves extensive travel throughout Australia, often to remote locations.  Garry has a comprehensive understanding of the Australian flora and is particularly interested in the ecology and distribution of regional ecosystems, threatened species as well as the environmental impacts of naturalized species.  In the field of conservation biology his discoveries have helped secure key biodiversity areas.  Some specific examples of his outstanding botanical achievements include the discovery of the most northerly populations of the threatened species Eucalyptus conglomerata, Triunia robusta and Baloghia marmorata, as well as the rediscovery of Romnalda strobilacea in Kin Kin, another threatened plant which had not been recorded from the area since 1917.  In addition to his extensive field experience, Garry has successfully tutored in plant identification and ecology.

In case you missed it... (Weekend re-cap)

Serenity in the Garden connects this week's solstice and lunar eclipse to the Hidden Gardens in Glasgow, Scotland.

****

Cottage and Vine decorates a winter entry for the holiday, replacing frost-killed annuals with leyland cypress, fir and nadnina.

****

Growing with Plants details the use and history of various citrus plants indoors, specifically featuring the kumquat.  The post includes great photos and a comprehensive introduction to this wonderful little fruit. 

****

I recently discovered Meaningful Landscape - a great blog with recent sketches illustrating landscape concepts. The most recent post details a pretty good graphic drawing exercise I may recycle to classes in the future. 

****

Landezine posted Strootman Landschapsarchitecten's contribution to the French garden festival in Chaumont-sur-Loire.  The concept is an homage to Billie Holiday and the photos are luscious.  It gives me a craving for a summer afternoon in Giverny.

Snow Maintenance

This past spring, after the snowpocalypse had melted, a lot of homeowners assessed their gardens and the consequent snow damage.  Chances are if you had Thuja or a dreaded Bradford pear, it was mutilated by snow loading.  Even boxwoods, which are usually tougher than their less-expensive lookalike, Ilex crenata, suffered some serious snow damage due to excessive loads.

So if we can expect as much snow in 2011, what to do to combat such damage?  Some will suggest that you knock the snow off the branches, others say leave well enough alone.  Donnan.com has a post about this quandary and concludes that removing the snow is best.  However, the plants they cite as likely-to-be-damaged are species like Thuja and Pyrus calleryana - both of which are fast-growing and consequently weak-wooded.  I'd agree that, if you want to protect those species, you're best served to remove the snow.  But when you consider a tougher plant (Picea pungens glauca, or a holly from a region in zone 4 or 5) I would leave them be.  These plants have evolved for centuries to withstand snow and probably don't need our help.  Let's face it, we'll probably just make matters worse.  I should note that I wouldn't plant a Thuja  in this area unless it's a cultivar that is particularly hardy to snow.  'Steeplechase,' which was cultivated by Manor View Farms, is a particularly hardy plant.

Adrian Higgins wrote a piece for the Washington Post last spring, citing the various local species that were worst-hit by last year's storms.  This can serve as a kind of list of "don'ts" when selecting plants for snowy areas, though I'd still risk using a boxwood or two, and help protect them from snow loading by proper pruning techniques...!

Symphoricarpus orbiculatus

I stumbled across this plant last November and was dually stymied and excited to be confronted with another plant mystery.   I don't mean that to come across the wrong way - I, by no means, am capable of identifying every plant in the world.  But I do know most of the plants that are popular in the landscape trade.  This one was a mystery.

 

I don't know what I'd do if I were in this profession forty years ago -- I'd have spent hours going through plant books, hoping to stumble across a drawing that was close to what I was looking at.  I still do that now, of course, as evidenced by this week's gift list.  But the internet and google do make plant detective work that much easier.  I simply searched the terms: pink berries clusters opposite leaved shrub.  And by the fourth page of results (after many photos of the wonderful Callicarpa) I found Symphoricarpos orbiculatus, or coralberry or Indian currant.

Now, granted, I'm not 100% certain this is the same shrub, but I'm 98%.  As you can see the fruits were fattening up in November.  By now they should be fully formed.  Coralberry is a loose, sprawling shrub and is in the Caprifoliaceae or honeysuckle family.  This plant was rambling along a path and looked very much like it could be related to Lonicera.  Anyone recognize it and would like to agree or contest?

Symphoricarpos orbiculatus shares a genus with S. albus or snowberry.  This plant is a smaller, lower growing shrub with (as the common name suggests) white fruit.  Since the fruit is showy, it makes sense that (like Callicarpa) "carpos" is in the genus name, since that means body or fruit.  Symph- is derivative of the Greek word that means "in agreement or concord" (like a symphony playing together, or being sympathetic to a friend) and essentially the genus means "fruit borne together."

Snowy Cedrus deodara

Some of you may have noticed that I have a tag called "iPhone Pics."  That's not a blatant ad for Steve Jobs, so much as a contrived way to make excuses for less-than-stellar photos.  Like this one, taken from the front seat of my car, on Glebe Road in Arlington.

 

Despite the crummy picture, I wanted to post it since I had recently written about Cedrus deodara and realized, after contemplating this mostly-lovely (though limbed-up) specimen in an otherwise uninspiring landscape, how nicely the branches hold snowfall.  

In contrast, take Cedrus atlantica glauca or blue atlas cedar, growing off Columbia Pike (below).  The shorter needles mean the plant holds less snow and as a result is largely unaffected by the weather. 

Here's another deodar cedar, standing kitty corner to the blue atlas.  This time the tree hasn't been limbed up, but it is crowded by the white pine (Pinus strobus) to the right. 

Theodore Roosevelt Island

On the day after Thanksgiving (infamous Black Friday), I avoided the crowds at the malls and instead visited the Theodore Roosevelt Island, sitting in the Potomac, between Rosslyn and Memorial Bridge.
 

 

The island was designated to be memorial to TR in 1932.  Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr., along with Henry Hubbard, was commissioned to develop a network of paths and to restore the island to a "natural" state with native trees and shrubs.  

Previously, the land was owned and cultivated by the grandson of George Mason.  All non-native vegetation was removed by Olmsted's team.

The architectural memorial was not built until the 1960s and was designed by Eric Gugler.  The massive sculpture of Roosevelt was made by Paul Manship.

Originally, the site for this memorial was to be the southern tip of the island with views of the Lincoln Memorial, but construction of memorial bridge required a new site.  

I'm lukewarm on this design, to say the least, but walking through the island's paths is a lovely way to spend an afternoon (even one on a cold autumn day).  There are woods as well as swampy areas you can wander past on wooden boardwalks. 

My *Own* Holiday Gift List (...if you like plants)

On Monday, I included a link to a gift guide for garden lovers.  I thought that I may as well share a few of my favorite books from 2010.  These aren't necessarily books that were published in 2010, it's simply that I discovered them then.

When I was traveling to Arizona, I was overwhelmed by the number of plants I encountered and at a loss to where to begin identifying them.  At the Montezuma Castle gift shop, I found these wonderful gems: Flowers of the Southwest Deserts and Shrubs & Trees of the Southwest Deserts.

The books are very easy to read and simple in content.  At the same time, the images (line drawings) are very clear.  I wish I had them on the first day of my trip, instead of my last.

Another book, which I picked up at the Grand Canyon, was
 Naturalist's Guide to Canyon Country.  This was a fun addition, since although the plant information was a bit simple, it also included information on wildlife, as the cover implies.

Before Arizona, I was lucky to spend quite a bit of time in Hawaii.  Hawaii's Plants and Animals: Biological Sketches of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is a wonderful read.  Very comprehensive, dividing the book into sections based on ecosystems, which makes perfect sense for a place with such a rich variety of landscapes.  Again, the images in this book were all line drawings, which is always my preference for plant books.

Finally, those of you who read NYPAOS know that I launched my own business this year.  A surprisingly dense and easy to read book that serves as a guide for setting up a business was Freelance Design in Practice.  The book is more geared to graphic designers, but it's easy enough to translate those services to those a landscape architect offers.  It also deals frankly with conflict that most designers (who can obsess for hours, even days, on getting a design "perfect") struggle with: avoiding becoming submerged in their designs at the sake of their business or personal life. 

Hawaiian Ironwood...And Monty Python

Those of you in the DC area can attest that yesterday was bitterly, terribly cold.  So no new pics today.  Instead, I'm taking you to a place where the balmy breezes blow all year long.  Hawaii, of course.

 

The photo above is of a tree species ubiquitous in Hawaii - it's Casaurina equisetifolia, or ironwood.  Unlike Carpinus caroliniana, which is also called ironwood because of the sinuous nature of the bark, Casaurina is called ironwood because the wood is so dense, it sinks in the water.  Obviously, the idea of wood sinking reminds me of this movie scene.  Go to about 2:00 to see what I'm referring to, if you don't have time for the whole (hilarious) clip.

By looking at the long thin leaves, one can understand the species name enough - it almost looks like a horse's tail.  Thus, equis (horse) folia (leaves).  

The specimen above (growing at the Pu'u O Umi valley on the Big Island) is a condition one can find many ironwoods - they grow near the sea and withstand the winds and salt spray well, but they can become a bit ragged with age.  The specimens below, at the North Shore of Oahu, are a bit younger and less torn-up.

 

Invasive Insects in the News

I feel like I decided to leave New York City just in time to avoid the near-panic about bedbugs that's taken place in the past six months or so.  There's no doubt that bed bugs (or more locally, stink bugs) have dominated the press lately, as far as articles about insects go.

That's why I was pleased to see an article in the Post today about the invasive insects that don't threaten our bedrooms, but instead, our local forests and greenswards.  The article briefly reviews the recent attention paid to combating the Asian longhorn beetle (or ALB in industry shorthand), the emerald ash borer and the Asian gypsy moth. 

New York has been vigilant in keeping the ALB at bay.  They have developed "wanted" posters that are frequently seen at the subway stations and provided more information elsewhere. (Check out infographic's breakdown of one such poster -- the information is a very comprehensive but condensed description of the ALB threat.) My favorite anti-ALB propaganda is a card that mimics a metrocard and has an ALB identification checklist on it, with a scaled shothole you can use to inspect the trunks of your local trees for boring damage.  Chicago has also been a leader in educating the public about these insects and protecting their trees and even has it's own (anti) EAB blog. 

At NYPAOS, I blogged about the intricacies in forming an only-native plants stance or not.  One reason people advocate using only native plants is that foreign plant materials can bring foreign pests or diseases.   But with the pests mentioned above, they have stowed away on pallets and other ornamental stock and are not a by-product of the ornamental use of exotic species.  Unfortunately, our global economy dictates that materials are shipped from one end of the planet to the other, and there are (ahem, sorry for this) inherent bugs in the system.  What's most important to me is not selecting native plants but instead, advocating for municipalities and state and federal government to strengthen its surveillance of shipments and be prepared to respond as quickly and comprehensively as possible when an threatening pest is detected.  

Ilex verticillata

I was at the University of Maryland on Friday, participating in the final studio review at the Architecture School.  Approaching the building, I was reminded of how much I like Ilex verticillata or winterberry holly.  

 

One could say that it's appropriate enough that these shrubs (which look lovely when they sprawl through large spaces) are trimmed and hedged in a very architectural manner.   They are, after all, outside of the Architecture School's building.

 

I blogged about Ilex verticillata last year, when I saw one specimen growing in the High Line (come to think about it, there had to be a male there somewhere).  

I was desperate to use these this autumn when I renovated my folks' place in Virginia.  As beautiful as it is, it's sadly quite tasty to deer as well.  Instead, I opted for Aronia arbutifolia.

In case you missed it... (Weekend re-cap)

Speaking of wreaths, this weekend the Horticultural Society of New York and the Garden Club of Virgina both posted about holiday decorations. 

The Garden Club's post features various wreaths found about town in Williamsburg, Virginia.  No opportunity for ornamentation seems to be missed -- in one shot, lemons are placed in between wooden louvers.  Apples, pineapples, pomegranates and even shoes are used to creative festive trimmings.

HSNY's Water Daily post on wreaths is a bit more esoteric -- in fact using the word "wreath" may be a bit of a stretch.  But that's to be expected - the photos are from the New York City Department of Park and Recreation's annual Wreath Interpretations exhibit (on display at DPR's headquarters at the Arsenal Building on 5th Avenue).  My favorite appears at the end of the link - it's a wreath made from concentric circles of wine corks.  Some of us could make that wreath faster than others, I'm sure.
 

***

My friend Jess rues the day she once said she'd like a small collection of snow globes, because it's now become the go-to gift when relatives think of her each holiday season (from the looks of it, her snow globe count is approaching 35).  If you're a plant enthusiast, you've probably received a fair share of kitschy, vaguely embarrassing garden-themed gifts.  Luckily I've never received a cross-stitched pillow with 'Compost Happens' written on it, but if you're deprogramming an aunt or cousin, send them to Garden Design Online.  The past few days they've been posting some creative, affordable and tasteful gift ideas. 

***

The Art of The Garden has a lovely post about the Musee Rodin in Paris -- it includes photos of landscape architectural details, plant combinations and of course, a sculpture or two. 

***

Finally Serenity in the Garden posted a talk by Denis Dutton at last February's TED conference.  Dutton discusses the origins of society's definition of objective beauty.  Jan's posted the lecture and the graphics are very entertaining.  At about 7 minutes in, you can see him deconstruct a universally-regarded "beautiful" landscape, which is quite interesting.

Decorating...

Last summer, I was teaching Abies concolor (white fir) to my students.  I was extolling the plant's virtues, in comparison to Colorado blue spruce (Picea pungens glauca), noting on how much softer the needles were and encouraging the students to smell the lemony scent on their own.  As I was wrapping up this introduction, I mentioned, "You can even make wreaths or boughs with its branches during the holidays."

My students stared at me curiously, mouths agape, and I actually processed what had just come out of my mouth.

"Wow," I laughed, "That was a real Martha Stewart moment."

I'm not a particularly crafty type -- despite years making holiday decorations like wreaths and topiaries at various plant nurseries, or my repeated Valentine's Days spent working at a florist.  I appreciate the skill and talent involved, but who has the time?

This year however, I planted about 30 boxwood (Buxus microphylla and B. sempervirens) at my folks' place in Virginia, and they all needed pruning.  It seemed like a waste not to make something out of the clipped branches.   

This wreath (and one other one) was made in a fevered bout of ambition -- I had the clippings and dammit if I wasn't going to finish this project, stat.  So as I sat on the living room floor of my parents' house, with the clipped branches spread out on an old bedsheet and bad '80's movies on TV (Shelley Long, anyone?), I furiously wired bundles of boxwood to a frame and I failed to take a single photo of the process.  If you're interested in making your own, Cottage and Vine has a great post with pics of the process and materials needed.

I used some old pear ornaments and hot-glued them to the wreath to add some interest, but you could also use small lemons.  I prefer the simplicity of a wreath like this one, and my folks' house has some Williamsburg-ish vocabulary in the architecture which called for something understated and classic.

Later that weekend, when my fingertips were still a little raw from repeated contact with florist wire, I was at a Wegman's and saw boxwood wreaths on sale for $17.99.  Next year I may just buy them.