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!

Clover, more specifically those with four leaves

Sadly, I don't have any good pics of Trifolium repens, or red clover, besides this one.  And you can hardly see the leaves on it.  As the genus name implies, this plant typically has three leaves, but if you find one with four (a 1 in 10,000 chance) then you are said to be granted with good luck.   

 

Legend has it that the leaves on clover stand for hope, faith and love and if there's a fourth leaf, that stands for luck.  Why some specimens of Trifolium have that fourth leaf is still not fully understood.  The possible reasons include environmental conditions or a very recessive genetic marker.

In any case, have a lucky and happy St. Patrick's day!

Winter Aconite

Here's a small swath of winter aconite, or Eranthis hyemalis, growing near the Edgeworthia I posted about yesterday.   I love this sunny yellow flower, which grows from a tuber in the spring.  Leaves and blossoms emerge at the same time in early spring and when the forest canopy becomes more dense, the plant has adapted to lose its above-ground parts and become dormant. This phenomena, in regards to plants, is called aestivation.

Eranthis is in the Ranunculaceae or buttercup family.   The leaves are peltate, which means they don't have petioles.  To me, they look like the ruffled collars you'd see on a clown.

As cheery as this plant is, keep it the hell away from your belly.  It's infamously toxic, as it was what Medea used to poison Theseus.  It evidently tastes quite bad, so you'd be unlikely to actually digest it. Er- is ancient Greek for 'early' and -anthis of course means flower, so the plant is an early spring flower. 

Petticoat Daffodil

I'm not sure I can think of a cuter common name for a plant than 'petticoat daffodil.'  I mean, really.  The botanical name, bulbocodium, means 'woolly bulb' which is somewhat (conversely) less cuddly-sounding.  Paghat's Garden quotes a great line of Mother Goose that refers to this plant: 

Daffy-down dilly has come to town

In a yellow petticoat and a green gown.

Of course, this specimen is a white cultivar, which I think is somewhat less striking.  The fine, threadlike leaves and the small white blossoms get lost in this planting, near the USBG.  I much prefer the straight species and its yellow flowers.

I blogged about daffodils and their many classes on NYPAOS.  As you can see, N. bulbocodium has a greatly enlarged cup and small, flared perianth.  Like many other bulbs, this species is native to the Mediterranean, specifically Spain and Portugal.

Spathiphyllum

Here's another shot from my Puerto Rico trip a two years ago.  Though the weather is warming up here in DC, these photos aren't helping, as even a touch of spring weather can't compare with the thought of being on a tropical island.  I'm suffering withdrawal!

Anyhoo, you don't need to go to Vieques to see this plant.  Chances are it's growing in your nearby shopping mall, or you can spot it in a building's atrium.  It's Spathiphyllum, or the peace lily.  It's a very, very shade tolerant plant so it's often used in interiorscaping. 

But they rarely look this good in a mall.  The leaves here are large and lusciously jade green.  The flowers, which are a spathe-and-spadix structure.  The white part is the spathe, which is a bract, or modified leaf.  The yellow spike in the center is the spadix, which is an inflorescence, consisting of many small flowers.  The plant is called peace lily, evidently due to the white color of the spadix. 

Ruellia angustifolia

The plant below is Ruellia angustifolia, or Mexican petunia.  It's also known as R. brittoniana.  As you may guess, it's not related to the bedding plant Petunia at all, it just has similar tubular flowers.  

Ruellia is an upright, stalk-forming perennial that grows in almost any condition, in areas of the tropics, as far north as Texas and Florida.   Its hardiness accounts for why this is considered a top-ranking invasive in Florida. 

Datura metel, and Botticelli

Posting yesterday's pic of the stone bench in Giverny made me a bit wistful for Paris and so I began browsing some of my photos.  I realized I had not yet blogged about Datura metel, an annual I photographed at the Jardin du Plantes. 

 Datura is a lovely annual, reaching about 3' high and at the gardens here it's mixed with Verbena bonariensis.  However, it is dreadfully toxic when ingested.

Most species of Datura are toxic and recently when art historian David Bellingham hypothesized that  D. stramonium is featured in Botticelli's Venus and Mars.   He noted a strange fruit in the hands of an imp surrounding Mars and had it identified by a botanist at Kew Gardens as Datura.
 

The story at NPR on this is terrific - as it elaborates on the plants toxicology and touches on the debate about whether or not Datura stramonium could have possibly been cultivated in Italy during Botticelli's time (there's some speculation on whether or not the plant is native to the new world and India, or only the new world). 

Patrick Blanc

While it can be argued that green walls have been in existence for hundred of years in one form or another, the popular, high-design resurgence they have had recently can be traced back to Patrick Blanc, a French artist and botanist, without much argument. 

Blanc has been designing green walls (or vertical gardens) for almost twenty years but his green wall on Jean Nouvel's building for the Musee de Quai Branly marks perhaps his transition to maintstream recognition.  His work includes interior and exterior spaces.  I visited the Branly shortly after it opened in 2006.

What I like most about Blanc's work is his horticultural variety and flair for mixing textures.  Above you have Hostas, next to creeping jenny (Lysimachia nummularia) that is interrupted by tufts of fern.

In the photo below, tendrils of Jasminum nudiflorum are tangled with Hosta leaves.  

Even more original, below, Heuchera is planted next to Mahonia.   I'd love to get back to the museum sometime soon and see how it's faring.  Including winter jasmine and Mahonia are imperative with an exterior wall, since the wall could look a bit bare in winter if the herbaceous plants die back. 

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!

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.  

Allium albopilosum

Though yesterday I posted some photos of Aster simplex growing on a roadside in Virginia, I'm not quite done with Blithewold, up north in Rhode Island.  Here's a small bed in the display gardens. with a lovely Agave serving as focal point and anchor for the blue-toned plants surrounding it, including kale and marjoram, to name a few.

 

And perhaps most striking are the Allium albopilosum, or Star of Persia, in front of the Agave.  Like giant onion and chives, the flower on this onion consists of a round ball of smaller individual flowers.  Another name for this species is christophii, though albopilosum refers to the small white hairs that surround the flowers.

 

These flowers dry fairly well - I've encountered them rolling through gardens in early fall, looking a bit like fancy tumbleweeds.  Like the other Alliums this plant is a bulb that can be planted in autumn.

 

I thought it was also worth posting a photo of the detail above.  Corten steel beams shape the bed and the grass risers.  It was a surprise to see such contemporary vocabulary in a garden that is otherwise quite traditional.

Aster simplex

Here are a few shots from this morning's run.  Aster simplex, or panicled aster.  The more current botanical name for this plant is actually Symphyotrichum lanceolatum, but its older name can still be applied.  As I've mentioned before, I think the word 'Aster' is decidedly less of a mouthful than Symphyotrichum. 

 

This specimen was found growing along an unmowed roadside and is very common this time of year.  It blooms in mid to late summer until the first frost.  It's not as showy as other asters, but you can buy seeds of the native plant from various sources.  To me, it's a great addition to a wildflower meadow and the small white flowers would be a great alternative to baby's breath (Gypsophila) for cut flower arrangements. 

Finally, like all members of the Asteraceae family, this flower structure is composed of disc florets and ray florets.  The disc florets are the very small yellow petals that compose the inside 'eye' of the flower.  They are the seed-producing flowers, whereas the ray florets (in this case, the white petals) are decorative; primarily present to attract pollinators.

Blithwold Display Gardens

Certainly, my favorite part of the Blithwold Estate's grounds were the Display Gardens.  These are tucked behind an original 1901 Lord and Burnham greenhouse, that is still being used to propagate the collections today.  The smaller structure below would typically house gardening tools, though equally important, it anchors the garden beds and also provides a structure upon which a pergola can be set.  The gardens were once populated with only vegetables - it was a proper potager - but today it is used to herald the worthiness of various herbaceous plants. 

 

Rare vines such as Nepenthes grow on the pergola with shade-loving ferns (Asplenium, for instance) crowd the stone path. 

Outside the pergola, tables of orange, geranium and Euphorbia milii are lightly touched by the cascading grape vines.

Here's a shot of the display gardens.  It's basically a reverse-view of the first photo in this post.  I think what makes a garden like this a success is not over-planning it.  As a designer, I probably shouldn't admit that, but the joy of a garden like this derives from its unbridled profusion of colors, textures and sizes.  After seeing so many variations of these types of gardens, I think I've become a bit fine-tuned to spot out the ones that are too carefully constructed.  Look at the heights alone: the beds below are lop-sided.  If a designer was obsessively selecting plants, they'd mirror heights, or would have some kind of alternating rhythm (tall-medium-short-tall-medium-short).  Instead, this looks like the person who picked out the species was too excited about the lovely selection to worry about 'coloring in the lines.'

From Australia: Christmas Bells

First up, let me introduce Planted Cloud's Australian correspondent, Garry Thomas. 

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.

This is Garry's first contribution to the blog -- I'm happy to have him here so he can keep us up to date on Australian botany!

Christmas Bells - Blandfordia species

During the summer festive season here in Australia, around December to January, small herbaceous plants belonging to an endemic genus of only 4 species burst into flower.  These species, which are often difficult to separate morphologically, belong to a genus that was named by English botanist James Edward Smith in 1804 as recognition of George Spencer-Churchill’s (1766-1840) contribution to botany, plants and landscaping in general.  This aristocrat, who became the 5th Duke of Marlborough, was given the title Marquis of Blandford at birth.  Hence the plant’s name Blandfordia (bland-FORD-ee-a); the only genus in the family Blandfordiaceae.

Blandfordia grandiflora growing amongst the wet heath land plants in SE Queensland

 Small remnants of the Marquis of Blandford’s historic and famous ‘fairy-tale’ landscaping can be seen in what is now known as the Whiteknights Park in Berkshire England.  The park is situated within the largest campus (Whiteknights) of the Reading University and includes a large lake, a grotto and scattered old trees.

Christmas Bells are geographically restricted to southeastern Australia; predominately they are found in coastal regions, but also occur on the nearby ranges and extend from Tasmania in the south to around Fraser Island (SE Queensland) in the north.  Generally they inhabit areas of high rainfall; but to some extent, specific ecologically restrictions can occur; these include south facing slopes; sandstone substrates; sandy, wet, peaty heath land; clayey sands with moderate acidity and so on.

The species, Blandfordia cunninghamii, B. grandiflora, B. nobilis and B. punicea, are slow-growing, grass-like plants.  They have narrow strappy leaves arranged in a clump; the much sought after, brightly coloured, red and/or yellow bell-shaped flowers arise on stems springing from the centre of the leafy cluster.  The plants are repeatedly visited by honey eating birds for the nectar contained in their flowers.

From time to time Blandfordia species are cultivated as garden features in Australia, North America and Europe; they are also very popular as cutflowers.  Interestingly, Blandus is a Latin word meaning caressing, flattering.   Perhaps a species of Christmas Bells, tolerant of cooler climates such as B. punicea, would be a fitting addition to the landscaping within the fairy-tale gardens at Whiteknights.  Whitenights Park was once a renowned attraction, a desire of kings and a place harboring many rare plants.