It's Crepe Myrtle Time Again

And if the number of pictures I have taken of Crepe Myrtles over time indicates anything, it's probably that I'm a bit of a fan of them even when they aren't in bloom.

Petition Against Science Hiatus at Brooklyn Botanic

                                     Native bee at home in this city that doesn't even stop to sleep

In the upside down world that we live in, science is going on a hiatus at Brooklyn Botanic and Flatbush Gardener, (a gardener and blogger) has started a petition along with some others for folks to sign if they perhaps think this is not such a fantastic idea.

For kicks I looked up the definitions of science and hiatus:
Science:
- knowledge about or study of the natural world based on facts learned through experiments and observation
-a particular area of scientific study
-a subject that is formally studied
And as a synonym: knowledge.

Hiatus:
-a period in time when something is stopped

In other news, Gateway National Recreation Area has released a draft EIS for their new General Management Plan for folks to comment on, where oddly enough their preferred "alternative" is not the alternative that has been identified by them as environmentally preferable.

"In accordance with the NPS NEPA Director’s Order 12 Handbook, the NPS identifies the
environmentally preferable alternative in its NEPA documents for public review and
comment (NPS 2001, section 4.5 E[9]). The environmentally preferable alternative is the
alternative that causes the least damage to the biological and physical environment and
best protects, preserves, and enhances historical, cultural, and natural resources. The
environmentally preferable alternative is identified upon consideration and weighing by
the Responsible Official of long-term environmental impacts against short-term impacts in
evaluating what is the best protection of these resources. In some situations, such as when
different alternatives impact different resources to different degrees, there may be more
than one environmentally preferable alternative (43 CFR 46.30).

Alternative C has been identified as the environmentally preferable alternative based on
the analysis of impacts, which identified it as least damaging to the biological and physical
environment and best at protecting and enhancing natural and cultural resources."

So what is going on hiatus over at Gateway? Logic?

On Landscape

The new "landscape" as seen from atop Brooklyn Botanic's greenroof

“Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery, like the idle curved tunnels of leaf miners on the face of a leaf. We must somehow take a wider view, look at the whole landscape, really see it, and describe what's going on here. Then we can at least wail the right question into the swaddling band of darkness, or, if it comes to that, choir the proper praise.”

Annie Dillard, Pilgram at Tinker Creek



The path of a leaf miner

On The Green Roof at Brooklyn Botanic

Oh man. I've been waiting to get on this one ever since my interview with New York Green Roofs. Today was finally the day. What can I say? If I hadn't heard the stories about the unforgiving weather, the incredible number of plants and the months of hard work throughout the install of this green roof on BBG's new visitor center, I might have thought the amazing grassy landscape before me just arose through pure magic.

They say every job has its perks. But how many do you think give you the opportunity to fall fast and hard for a grass and to revel in the blooms of June?

Today we climbed a ladder to the roof so we could weed out some tough plants and plant some others, and I got to admire the results of last fall's labor.

One Slow Flower

The Columbine seeds were collected in 2010 at Brooklyn Botanic while working with Mike in the plant family collection and came home in my pocket. The plant sown from those seeds finally bloomed in Joe's garden this spring and this is one flower that made it's way home in the paniers of Joe's bicycle this week.

Blooms and Buds on the Outskirts of Brooklyn Botanic

You won't even have to enter the gates on Eastern Parkway before getting a taste of why this is traditionally the busiest time of year at Brooklyn Botanic. And this year, with so many things ahead of schedule and overlapping, I bet you won't know where to look first. The beauty of Baptisia buds getting ready to open or Silverbells in bloom?

Baptisia buds in April, Border near Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn Botanic

Two Firsts Spotted This Week At Brooklyn Botanic

First Star Magnolia flower spotted unfolding above in Magnolia Plaza and below, the first leaves emerging on a Siberian Crabapple in the Osborne. (Well they are my firsts for the season at least. You have to mark the seasons in your own way.)

Because Everyone Digs that Weeping Beech at Brooklyn Botanic

I'm not at all surprised to see that it was featured in the photo spread "How to See a Tree". (Course, so many of the trees there are just as likely candidates for their own magnificent black and white portrait.) I wonder if one could even wager a guess though as to how many people have needed to be asked by the staff at BBG to get down from perching or posing in that beech.

The Gardener's February (from Capek)

"But do you know what? The snowdrops are in flower; and hamamelis with yellow stars is in flower, and hellebore has fat buds; and when you look properly (but you must hold your breath) you will find buds and sprouts on almost everything; with a thousand tiny pulses life rises from the soil."

From the end of Karel Capek's February chapter in The Gardener's Year

So what if this winter there were snowdrops blooming in New York City in both December and January and even some hellebores that are past the fat bud stage and already blooming? We know that the earth today is not at all the same one, in many ways, that Capek lived on. Still, most of the hellebores haven't opened yet and not all the snowdrops have bloomed, and you probably should still consider holding your breath when looking at the winter buds on almost everything. You might miss something otherwise.

Hellebore foetidus buds putting on a little winter weight in the Washington Ave Woodland garden Jennifer tends at Brooklyn Botanic

At First You Will Say

Ferraria ferraiola in the Iris family

that you have never seen anything like it. But after more reflection, you might say, but it reminds me a bit of an Iris or below maybe Muscari. And then you will be botanizing old school style before everything was named. The old botanists weren't always right about everything they labelled and sorted, but they were right enough of the time for anyone trying to learn about plants to consider looking at things the way they did. For example, looking for similarities that are visible to the eye when sorting out the world.

(My cellphone camera does not do the colors and the delicacy of these South African beauties justice. They are worth seeing in person over at the Warm Temperate Pavilion that Karla tends at Brooklyn Botanic. So many colors in that small space now.)

Lachenalia mutabilis in the Hyacinth family

Plant of the Year 2011

Monarda punctata! (Horsemint, Spotted Beebalm), pollinator favorite

I think it bucks tradition to pick the plant of the year when the year is on its last legs, but I'm gonna do it anyway. Of all the plants I watched this year, from atop fancy penthouse gardens in Manhattan to roadside weeds, the one that gave me the most pleasure and the opportunity to learn was Monarda punctata! (I tend to think the point the latin name is calling for is the punctuation of an exclamation point because this plant is that awesome). Whether observing a bumblebee methodically circling round and visiting all its flowers at the amazing Herb Garden that Caleb tends at Brooklyn Botanic or crouched fascinated by the pollinator show it provided in my own garden, this plant always brought me both delight and wonder. In my vegetable garden, it was the clear favorite of wasps, so I'll cast my vote with them for this interesting native plant for plant of the year.

(I first encountered this plant at Brooklyn Botanic Garden as a horticulture intern last year in both the Herb and Native Flora Gardens and I owe the amazing show it provided in my own garden to my friend Susan, who gave it to me to grow for my own.)

Monarda punctata in July, Brooklyn

Out of Season

I've got some Magnolia buds opening in a vase in the last week of the year. I'd never have guessed that this would be so. And it was only by a chance encounter last month with some pruned branches on a bike ride in Prospect Park that I get to celebrate this unseasonal occurence.

In contrast, last year in early December, I came upon an unusual sight. It was very cold like winter and on a Kousa Dogwood, there were both some autumn leaves (yes, the right season) still hanging on, but also some unseasonal blooms. I felt as though I was experiencing three seasons in one day.

December 2010, Brooklyn

Should I have been surprised? After all, I'd also seen a variegated Kousa blooming at Brooklyn Botanic in September of last year.

September, 2010, Brooklyn Botanic

What can I tell you? You learn about plants by paying attention to their regularity through the seasons and also their irregularity or their response to the weather conditions. This is true whether you are new to gardening or a pro. For instance, on The New York Botanical Garden's Plant Talk blog, there was recently this post about unseasonal observations at the New York Botanical Garden. There, also Kousa Dogwoods blooming out of season among other plants. Does that mean perhaps that Kousas are more sensitive in their response to seasonal fluctuations than some other species? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'm not a scientist and I don't have the kind of data to answer that question. But you don't have to be a scientist to just think like one, whether you find all the answers to your questions or not.

A Bouquet Study

A Bouquet in May as in Mayapple

Have you ever looked at a bouquet as an opportunity to learn something? If you haven't, can I turn you on to that as an idea as I was first turned on to it in the lunchroom at Brooklyn Botanic during my horticulture internship (be quick! there's a deadline) last year? I have a ton of sweet memories of work/studying at Brooklyn Botanic and some are of studying branches or bunches of flowers gathered together in water in the lunchroom. There's more than one lesson in the bouquet above, but one is that May is an excellent time to go for a walk in the Native Flora garden at Brooklyn Botanic and be on the lookout for blooming Mayapples.

A Year, A Day and About an Hour Apart

Looking at Lagerstroemia in Lily Pool Plaza at Brooklyn Botanic, Dec 17, 2010

I was only half joking when I talked about creating my own botanical holidays and celebrating the Holiday of the Viewing of the Paper Bush buds. There is much truth in the jest. We are free to create our own rituals and celebrate the seasons in our own way. I went back to Brooklyn Botanic to look at the Paper Bush buds on Sunday and to look at the Crape Myrtles at the far end of the Lily Pool Plaza because I wanted to see if I could recreate a moment for myself, but I was also keeping an eye out for things I'd missed noticing before in this time of the year, on the cusp of winter. But my feet were cold so the trip was short and I really will have to return again next year.

On Dec 18, 2011

The Holiday of the Viewing of the Paper Bush Buds

On this, the second annual Holiday of the Viewing of the Paper Bush Buds, there were some early blooms. Am I making up botanical holidays for myself now? Well yes, I am. Having never created a holiday before and being somewhat unsure what the criteria are for such a thing, I've pretty much gone and done it much the way one earns the right for riding shotgun in a car, that is by calling it.

I've chosen to celebrate this particular holiday on the third Sunday of December quite arbitrarily and I imagine any old day in winter would do just as well. I do recommend though the celebrating be done on a very cold day in the last hour of light at Brooklyn Botanic, if you're in Brooklyn. If not, then you have to go out and find your own Paper Bush spot to celebrate. As of yet, there are no official sponsors, logos, or lore attached to this celebration, so it's wide open for interpretation.


At the inaugural celebration

Part of the Year in New York City Bees

Were you paying attention to New York city bees this year? Did you catch this cool story about the naming of "new" species in New York, the neatly named Gotham bee being found at Brooklyn Botanic even? Knowing that even experts sometimes have to rely on DNA to identify between species makes me feel better about rarely getting beyond genus when trying to name the bees I find in my own garden. But it still won't stop me from paying attention to these visitors and giving it a try.

The bee in the top photo is one I identified in my own community garden plot as Triepeolus lunatus or something close. Am I positive that my ID is correct? Not by a long shot. But this is one of the places I sought out information from when attempting my identification. (If you follow that link, one of the first photos is by John Ascher and shows this bee on a Black-eyed Susan at Brooklyn Botanic.) The bee below I feel somewhat confident about calling an Agapostemon female. I'd love to say it's Agapostemon splendens, but perhaps I'd need to submit some photos into Bugguide.net to get that far. But wouldn't it be neat if I did and the person to call it definitively was none other than Dr. John Ascher?

There are a lot of places to learn more about these bees, our native pollinators, but the most fun place for me is usually with my own eye in a garden I love.

The Gardener's Year and Gardening Friends

I received a sweet present from my friend Susan in the mail today, a copy of Karel Capek's The Gardener's Year, first published in 1929. And because it is a slim book and one I have been really looking forward to reading, I am trying to digest it slowly and not just gobble it up all in one night as I am apt to do, leaving myself with nothing left to savor tomorrow. Already I've read the two introductions to the book (one by Michael Pollan, the other by Verlyn Klinkenborg), the first short and sweet chapter, and am forcing myself to stop right now on page 7 after reading the lines "Let no one think that real gardening is a bucolic and meditative occupation. It is an insatiable passion, like everything else to which a man gives his heart."

I have been especially lucky in discovering and pursuing this insatiable passion because I have given my heart over to gardening (or was it stolen from me by the garden I wonder?) in places alongside many others giving their own. I was lucky that my first garden was in a community garden, ensuring that my thoughts about gardening would necessarily forever include thoughts and memories of other people, and I was incredibly lucky to study and work alongside not only the talented gardeners on staff at Brooklyn Botanic, but also my fellow horticulture interns (Susan and Anne included among them). To find a passion at any age is of course a fantastic thing all by itself, but a passion shared with friends is something else entirely.

My friendship with Susan is not solely based on gardening, but it was born and grown in a garden, the most beautiful one in Brooklyn at that.

Where I'll be Six Months From Now

Colorado Potato Beetle Eggs

Probably, stooped over or squatting, checking the underside of my potato, eggplant and tomato plants for the yellow clusters of eggs laid by the Colorado Potato Beetle. That doesn't sound like a lot of fun and it isn't really, but the good part is that if I remember to start doing this a little before Memorial Day (or to put it in the gardening year, sometime just after the tomato transplants go in the ground), I can manage an important pest in the garden.

And in five months? Definitely checking out Cayleb's tulip and bulb display at Brooklyn Botanic. It's different every year, but it's always around the same time. (That's what's awesome about gardens, this fantastic mix of regularity and surprise, and the chance each time round to learn a little more, try something different or just get better at the craft.)

What These Things Are and What They Are Not

They are not just pretty pictures of beautiful things. They are the practices of letting some vegetables go to seed to attract beneficials or collect seed, using covercrops and other means to build up the soil, growing herbs alongside vegetables, and adding diversity to a monocrop. They may look effortlessly beautiful, but they are in fact the result of the deliberate and thoughtful work of gardeners (and of course, the plants themselves). I'm not just paying attention here because I think it's pretty. I'm trying to learn something.

The Naming of Things We Are Thankful For

Last year I gave thanks for my brother's turkey and roses, my nieces and their dresses (if these little gals think there's any chance that there will be dancing going on, they are going to change their clothes), most especially a year of wonder working as a horticultural intern at Brooklyn Botanic among some trees a century old and the beauty of some Camellias blooming in the cold. Because again it is the time to reflect on the graces of the year, I culled from some pictures throughout the year since last Thanksgiving, wanting only to choose images that defined for me something I could name and give thanks for in each month. There are only four images corresponding to four months above, from late November through February, the time through the darkest and coldest days until the first blooms of the year. That's as far as I got in one sitting.

To name those things above and give thanks: Top Left: November, For my garden neighbors, their plants seeding and for things that might wander into my garden. Bottom Left: December, For plants studied, remembered and revisited at Brooklyn Botanic. Top Right: January, For the year with Verbena bonariensis, my pollinator magnet and for prodigious self-sowers, the volunteers of gardens. Bottom Right: February, For all of the firsts of a lifetime, in particular this year, my first bike ride of winter and the first winter blooms. I could be briefer and just name my thanks for seeds, for decorative bark and the tree silhouettes of winter, what remains of the seasons growth that's interesting to look at when the tree canopy is bare and it's ridiculously cold outside, and for the promise of spring always evident in winter if you look for it.

Maybe later I will be inspired to wade through some more pictures to finish out all the months, but for now, it's enough to remind myself of the things that I'll need to keep in mind and seek out this time of year, the part that I find challenging to get through in good spirits. (And that's mostly because I am a wimp in the cold, overly sensitive to the weather and already missing the long bright days of spring and summer.)