Dumbarton Oaks Art Installation

It's pathetic how many photos I have of Dumbarton Oaks in the fall and winter, and how few I have of the spring.  I suppose it's indicative of how busy folks in my field are each spring.  But yesterday, for Easter, I actually took the afternoon to enjoy a visit.  

Perhaps the most lovely surprise was the new art installation, Cloud Terrace, by Andy Cao and Xavier Perrot.  It's placed on the Arbor Terrace and composed of chicken wire and Swarovski "Elements" (according to the info sheet the Gardens' provided).

On such a bright sunny day, seeing the dense gray "clouds" of the wire made a marked contrast.  But sadly, photos don't accurately capture the dazzling rainbow of colors reflected by the crystals, which are tethered to the wire.

The black reflection in the pool highlights some of the ruby and sapphire hues that were twinkling when a breeze lifted, but photos don't do it justice.  Definitely check it out between now and autumn!

Epimedium

I can't believe I have not blogged about Epimedium since May 2008.  I felt for sure I had touched on this plant since starting Planted Cloud.  In any case, I was in Dumbarton Oaks a few weeks ago and was struck once again at how lovely the fall color is on this herbaceous groundcover.

Back in 2008, I did touch on the medicinal history for Epimedium -- the common name is barrenwort, and it was presumed that ingesting this would help with impotence, thus solving the 'condition' of barrenness.

I'm not naming a species here, as there are over 60 in cultivation.  Most commonly however would be E. x rubrum.  Below is one such species in the spring.  You can see how strikingly different even the greens are among these two specimens in spring and fall.  Regardless of species, Epimedium usually has chartreuse new leaves that are somewhat soft in texture.  By autumn, the leaves become more leathery and darker green.

Elaeagnus pungens

Last week, I gave my students a tour of Dumbarton Oaks, so we could catch the last of autumn color and see what was otherwise notable in the gardens. We were passing the shrub below with little interest until we were almost knocked over by the fragrance.

The fragrance was a touch more pungent than a gardenia, and incredibly strong.  I recognized the smell right away as an Elaeagnus.  This particular species is appropriately named Elaeagnus pungens. It's a large spreading evergreen shrub with rough scratchy green leaves and brown stems (the stems are worth noting since - as you can see in the above pic - it does muddy up the overall color of the plant).  The undersides of the leaves are silver with the occasional brown scale.

This time of year the plant is teeming with small tubular white flowers - the source of the fragrance.  The flowers are very easy to miss, were it not for their scent (and on an evolutionary angle, that makes sense - the fragrance is key in drawing in pollinators when the flowers are relatively unremarkable).

In April, cherry like drupes occur on the plant in modest quantities - they are easy to miss, though the birds usually find them.  Native to Japan, this plant is not as invasive as its cousins, E. umellata and E. angustifolia.

Jasminum nudiflorum

Chances are you've seen a lot of this plant lately -- particularly if you are in the DC area or walking around Central Park in New York.  Though it's hard to miss right now -- with it's bright yellow flowers -- you may have previously assumed it was another Forsythia. 

And from a distance, that's a reasonable assumption.  They have a similar flower color and both bloom in early spring when few other species are blooming.  However, the green, square stems of winter jasmine are quite different from the putty colored woody stems of Forsythia and the flowers consist of five petals with an elongated, tubular neck, whereas Forsythia is four-petaled.

Also, Forsythia can be an upright shrub or a pendulous specimen (depending on the species).  Jasminum nudiflorum is always a cascading shrub and is often seen used to best effect in a scenario like the one below at Dumbarton Oaks.

Forsythia Dell at Dumbarton Oaks

I"m shamed to say I didn't even realize there was a "Forsythia Dell" in Dumbarton Oaks until last week.  Had I known, I would have waited for these pics before posting my ambivalent thoughts on Forsythia last week. 

 

That's not to say my opinion on Forstyhia has changed much.  I still think it's overused, and doesn't contribute much to a garden after its bloom time.  But this planting - an acre of Forsythia shared between Dumbarton Oaks and Dumbarton Oaks Park - does make a compelling argument for the genus.

Scilla siberica

Last Saturday, I took my design class through Dumbarton Oaks for a field trip.   It had been almost exactly four months since my last visit and it was a delight to be there at the beginning of spring. Really, truly: if you live in the DC area and have never been to the gardens, please go.  It's worth it!

 

Above, tucked in among the foliage of Eranthis hyemalis, is a wonderful spring bulb, Scilla siberica.  Scilla is native to the Mediterranean, like most bulbs, which grow leaves and flower in the early spring and go dormant during the hot, dry summers. 

The straight species is blue, but an 'alba' variety exists which is white, as there are some others that are ever so slightly pink.  The plant can naturalize quite easily from seed and that feature has been used to a great effect here on a wooded hillside of the gardens.

Gorgeous!  It's made me think I definitely need to order more Scilla for my parents' place this autumn.  Though diminutive in size (it barely passes 6" in height) the impact of using it en masse cannot be dismissed!

Ficus carica

As excited as I was to find the quince tree in Dumbarton Oaks last November, I was equally delighted to find fig trees (Ficus carica) lining the walled vegetable garden.  Figs have been a favorite of mine and my family's for generations. My Italian grandmother (who is 100 years old) loves nothing more than a perfectly ripe fig in the late summer.

Figs are easy to recognize, due to their straggly habit and large, deeply lobed leaves. If you were unsure that you truly were looking at a fig (or at least a member of the Ficus genus) you could simply snap off a leaf and wait for the milky, latex-like sap to appear.  

Of course, if there are fig fruits actually on the tree, like the one below, you probably don't need to hesitate in your identification.  But, calling this "fruit" is inaccurate.  The thing that we usually consider a fig is technically a flower.  The flower is blooming - and the fruit subsequently sets - inside the pod you see below.  Your next question, I'm sure, is how does the flower get pollinated if it's fully covered?  Ficus carica has a special relationship with the fig wasp, which burrows into the small hole at the center of the fig (technically called an ostiole) to pollinate the flower.

Figs have been popular for millennia. Fossil records dating back to 9000 BC indicate the fig was cultivated in the Jordon Valley long before wheat or barley - or even legumes, were grown for agriculture.  The plant grows best in Mediterranean climates but can survive in areas as cold as Hungary, so long as the summers are hot.

The 'fruit' are high in fiber and calcium, as well as many other nutrients, and are high in antioxidants too.  When they are fresh they don't travel well, so for large-scale agricultural purposes, they are often dried.

Inside the library at the garden, an exhibit of botanical art was on display and sure enough, Ficus carica was featured in the title art.  In addition to the plant's rich history of agricultural and commercial use (fig newtons, anyone?), it's featured repeatedly in the bible and in early Greek literature.

Japanese Maple

Below we have the same shot of the katsuratree I blogged about last week.  If you look beyond that sprawling beauty, you'll see another large tree.  At first glance, you'd maybe wonder if they are the same, but a second look proves that wrong. 

 

The tree to the left has samaras, and opposite leaf orientation.  That, along with the stripey bark and a few persistent leaves make it quite clear that this is Acer palmatum or Japanese maple.   A gigantic Japanese maple. 

Most cultivars of Acer palmatum (and there are hundreds of cultivars) top out at about 30', max.  'Bloodgood' is by far one of the most famous cultivars and gets about 15'.  I'd love to know what this one is, since its spread is around 45' and it's probably just as tall. 

 

Elsewhere in Dumbarton Oaks, a smaller, more protected specimen still had leaves on it.  As you can see the plant has amazing fall color. 

Despite the gorgeous seasonal interest, I don't use Japanese maples too often.  Namely because I'm not crazy about the deep purple foliage many of the cultivars have during the summer. Some cultivars have green leaves during the summer, and I like them much more. 

Though it's hard to be critical of this plant when the fall color is so remarkable!  Indeed, that's why it's one of the most popular small non-flowering ornamental trees. 

American Beech

A few posts back, I promised to write about the American beech, or Fagus grandifolia, at Dumbarton Oaks.  To be sure, if you have been to Dumbarton Oaks, you know precisely which tree I'm talking about.  Even people who wouldn't be able to identify this tree as American beech would remember this particular specimen, as striking as it is.

 

Beeches are extremely slow growing (and Fagus grandifolia is more slow growing than its relative, the European beech, or Fagus sylvatica). In Central Park, specimens of European beech abound, but it's hard to find an American beech like this.  Low-branching and with shallow roots resting on the ground, this is an ideal specimen for introducing the plant to students. 

It's easy to identify a beech by its smooth (elephant skin-like) bark, which is often covered with graffiti.  In fact, a part of beech trunk, with the words "D. Boon Killd Bar o this tree 1775" inscribed on it, is on display at the Grandfather Mountain Nature Museum, though it's been proven that Daniel Boone himself was not the graffiti artist.

Of course, in the Virginia-Maryland-DC area, American beeches are downright ubiquitous.  I encountered the one above while running on the C&O Canal in Georgetown.  In its native forest habitat, beeches tend to sucker and so you will also find communities of beeches. I've been on old tracts of land where the only tree around is the beech.  That's the result of this suckering tendency and because it has very hard wood  (which consequently protected it from harvest until the chainsaw was invented).

The fall color is...okay.  It has a rusty golden-orange color which is just fine.  The leaves are ovate and the presence of very small spines along the margin help distinguish it from Fagus sylvatica, which has an entire margin.

Beeches produce nuts that provide food for dozens of birds and forest mammals.  The seedcaps are fuzzy, four-winged capsules which are persistent on the tree through early winter or spring.  The plant also provides habitat for many caterpillars.  The wood is used for furniture, flooring and woodenware.

Though the bark alone makes beeches easy to identify, the buds are also very distinctive.  Long and slender, they have always reminded me of a spindle on a spinning wheel.  I'm guessing, more specifically, in some deep recess of my memory, they remind me of the cursed spindle that Sleeping Beauty is fated to touch. I looked up a clip online and am pretty sure that's where my association comes from.  Since it's Friday, and who doesn't like a bit of Tchaikovsky and Disney, see for yourself here.

Cedrus deodara

Across the lawn from the katsura tree in yesterday's post, stand these regal specimens of Cedrus deodara or deodar cedar.  This is probably in my top-five list for conifers (stay posted for that entry!).  I love the deodar cedar's graceful, feathery habit.  ...There is one specimen in Central Park's Cedar Hill that I've shown to students since I've begun teaching and it never fails to take my breath away.

 

Cedrus is in the Pinaceae family and is classified as such because its leaves are long, cylindrical needles.  Other Pinaceae genera include Pinus, Tsuga, Larix, Abies and Picea.

 

Unlike pine trees, which have needles bundled together in fascicles, Cedrus species have the needles arranged in spurs.  Cedrus deodara usually has between 15 and 25 needles per spur, whereas Cedrus atlantica glauca (blue atlas cedar) has 30+ needles per spur.  

...I have to admit, I'm amused that between this post and my post on white oak, readers could think that I always have a fresh manicure.  It's definitely not the norm!

 

Cedrus, and other genera in the Pinaceae genus, have two sets of cones.  On lower branches, you find the smaller male cones, like the ones above.  These form through late summer into fall and when they are "ripe" they release pollen into the wind.  

 

In the upper reaches of the tree (I used a 40X on this zoom!) you'll find the female cones (and a few male cones as well).  The female cones receive the pollen and the take up to two years to produce seeds.  When the seeds are ready for dispersal, the scales of the cones open up and release them to the wind.  The female cones generally exist in the top of the canopy to disperse the seeds as far away as possible.   Most Pinaceae cones will only open up if the air is dry.  In rainy or humid weather the cones -- sometimes even ones that have fallen to the forest floor -- remain closed, since the wet weather will hinder seed dispersal.

The Biggest Katsuratree I've Ever Seen!

This rambling specimen of a tree is another one from Dumbarton Oaks.  I saw this from across the large green near the house -- the wall behind it lines R Street in Georgetown. Naturally, I was drawn to its spindly habit, which reminded me of Louise Bourgeois's spider sculptures. 

 

Closer inspection of the bark made me think this was Cercidiphyllum japonicum, or katsuratree, though the tree seemed far too big for this to be so.  In its native habitat of China, the trees can reach up to 100', but in cultivation they rarely get much larger than 35 or 40' -- and that's an impressive size.

But indeed, a few persistent leaves and subopposite buds indicate that this is katsura.  Without a doubt, the biggest one I've seen!  Most people think of the beech tree when they recall their trip to Dumbarton (and more on that beech another time), but this katsura is worth a visit, too.

Pseudocydonia sinensis

Last week, when I was visiting Dumbarton Oaks, I noticed some deep red leaves on the ground.  At first glance, I wondered (irritably) if Dumbarton Oaks used a tree as plebeian as the dreaded Bradford pear.  Those can, despite their other problems, exhibit some lovely rose petal-like fall color.  But rounding the corner, I happily realized this was a different tree.

 

As you can see, the fluted bark is exfoliated and quite different from Pyrus.   Instead, the bark was more similar to Pinus bungeana, or lacebark pine.  The mottling isn't just white, silver, peach and gray, like Platanus, Stewartia or Lagerstroemia, but has an army green color in the bark as well.  It's quite striking.

 

The plant was also a mystery to me; I had no idea what it was.  My best bet was that it was still a relative to Pyrus or at the very least, a member of the Rosaceae family.  Looking up at the canopy, I got another clue.

At the time, a glimpse of these large fruit furthered my belief that this may have been a pear.  Though they are awfully lemon-yellow for a pear, it seemed possible.  I determined I'd have to do a bit more research when I got home to pin down exactly what this was.  

In any case, I was wowed by the contrast between the deep red foliage with the bright yellow fruit. 

It turns out that this was Pseudocydonia sinensis, or Chinese quince.  It's a very rare specimen tree, native to China, that is indeed in the Rosaceae family.  The fall color, fruit and beautiful bark are all characteristic of the species.  For a long time, it was classified in the Cydonia (quince) genus, but the absence of spines ultimately led to its classification in its own genus (P. sinensis is the only species in the genus). Cydonia is not to be confused with the shrub with the same common name, Chaenomeles.

Dumbarton Oaks Paving Patterns

Last weekend I was able to spend quite a bit of time in Georgetown.  I was housesitting at a property almost directly across the street from Dumbarton Oaks, which of course, as a landscape architect and horticulturist, is a dream location.

On Friday I spent a few hours at the gardens to get some extra images for my library. (It's embarassing to admit, but most of my other Dumbarton Oaks photos were taken with a non-digital camera.  That's how long it's been since I've had a lengthy visit.  Shameful.)

There are obviously a wealth of photos that I'd like to share, but today, I'm just going to post photos of some of the different paving patterns.  Enjoy!

 

Gravel and Belgian Block at the Drive.

Random rectangular motor court. 

Diagonal running bond with stone steps and band.

Interrupted curving running bond with header edges.

Basket weave with soldier edges.

Diamond detail.

Tile with stone banding.

I wish I knew for sure what kind of stone this is! Anyone know?

Running bond with circle and diamond details. 

Stone pavers with gravel.

Stone pavers and aggregate with brick edging beyond.

 Knot detail.