greenZoo: Walks in a botanical garden in March 2008

now and then clouds: breezy: 35ºF

The annual orchid show ended last weekend so I thought I’d seen the last of them until next year. But as a reprise, there was a huge container pot filled with an orchid the size of a small shrub in the atrium. It was brimming with so many spikes of flowers that its foliage was hidden. A nearby sign labeled the plant as a Phaius orchid (Nun’s Orchid).

There are still dozens of orchids for sale in the garden shop. Orchids in bloom sell for full price. They are prominently displayed at eye level on a shelf near the front of the store. To make them even more attractive and fuller looking, the shelf is backed by a wall of mirrors. Once an orchid has finished blooming, it’s moved to a sale table at the back of the shop and marked down 50% or more.

Like so many other things, orchids have become disposable commodities. Last month I read an article on orchids in a gardening Q&A that advised “enjoy the plant while it is in flower, and then give it to an orchid enthusiast and get something different. Repeat indefinitely.” Know any “orchid enthusiasts” who would cheerfully take in your indifferently treated orchids, nurse them back to health with daily care, and then wait a year hoping they will reflower? I don’t. Q&A’s advice is code for “toss the orchid in the trash and pick up a fresh one at the supermarket.”

Once again the formal hedge of privets (Ligustrum ibolium) on the north end of the formal rose garden has been severely trimmed. The hedge was last cut in March four years ago. I thought the hedge would never grow back. It did though. Last summer it looked just fine –tall and full. So it will again. For now though, this rejuvenating cut looks like a bad haircut.

Spurges Spurges (Euphorbia myrsinites) are showing new life. Their upright stalks of gray-blue spiraling leaves are topped with bracts the color of sunrise. As the season goes on, the bracts will fade, blending in with the lower leaves. The stalks grow too, eventually toppling over and growing woody as they sprawl over the ground. For now though, the rosettes on these euphorbia look like some kind of low-growing rose. Not to be picked though, I learned from the comments on University of British Columbia botanical garden website. A mother described what happened when her kids did: “A few neighborhood kids and my two sons got into this plant the day before late yesterday afternoon, and actually wiped the white milky substance all over each other, using the plant as a sword. (don't ask. . . ) I had no idea until the next morning that they had gotten into this plant or I would have insisted they take showers before bed. Both my sons and the other children woke up with blisters, redness, puffiness where the substance had touched their skin, including a burning sensation. My oldest son looked as if he had second degree sunburns on his face and around his eyes. He is very lucky that the milky substance didn't destroy his eye. We contacted their doctors and treated them with benadryl and cortisone cream . . . After two days of treatment my kids look much better, however they still have signs of blisters and redness. . . This plant may be pretty to look at, but I highly suggest that you find another plant to plant in your yard.”

Gregii Tulip 'Fire of Love' The tulips are up. Some are in bud; none are in bloom yet so I don’t look at them very closely. Still, the foliage of a one tulip made me stop and lean over for a closer look. It’s one of the short Gregii varieties. This variety is named ‘Fire of Love.’ The outer parts of the leaves are painted with stripes of fire-engine red separated by bands of yellow. Inside there are broader bands of maroon and green. ‘Fire of Love’ is an attention grabber even before it flowers. Like the better know Gregii variety ‘Red Riding Hood,’ ‘Fire of Love’ is supposed to bloom an eye-shielding red. I’ll come back to see. I wonder if the foliage will change.

I’ve seen cyclamen growing and blooming outside many times. Nonetheless, whenever I see a cyclamen blooming outdoors, I pause to look. I’m stuck thinking that cyclamen are the creatures of greenhouses. I go to the nursery in late January. I buy a pot of white, pink, orchid, or red ones loaded with blooms. I marvel at its flowers for a month or two until they peter out and then toss the pot.

Cylamen coum So this morning with temperatures just above freezing, an orchid-colored cyclamen is in bloom. The sign says it’s a Cyclamen coum. It’s a bit battered. The blooms are tiny. But here it is. The Cyclamen Society says that this one that comes from places around the Black Sea. It grows in shady places and will withstand temperatures well below zero.

heavy clouds threatening rain: calm: 48ºF

Potinara Orchid Love Passion 'Orange Bird'

The annual orchid show that began a month ago closes tomorrow. This morning: one last look. Blooms, buds and visitors with digital cameras are as plentiful as ever. I know that as soon as an orchid loses its dazzle it’s taken back to the greenhouses and replaced with one in its prime. But what’s been added and what’s just been taken away I can’t say. With this cast of thousands who can tell when one comes and another goes. On this last weekend the crowds of photographers are thick. Watching them take pictures of all this beauty is contagious, so I picked an orchid I liked (the label said it was Potinara Love Passion ‘Orange Bird’), put my camera in its face and caged inside my Canon.

Orchid shows are staples of many botanical gardens. They bring in visitors during this dull time between the end of the holiday displays and the beginning of the spring blooming season. The orchid shows at the larger botanical gardens don’t just display orchids, they put their orchids in a setting with some out-of-the-ordinary theme meant to intrigue visitors and then draw them in. Designers and artists also use the theme to dream up exotic buildings and fantastical settings as sets for the orchids. For its show this year the New York Botanical Garden displayed its orchids “against the magical backdrop of Singapore, one of the great orchid centers of the world.” The centerpiece of the show was a two-story pagoda dripping with orchids. At the Atlanta Botanical Garden the theme was “Gargoyles and Grace.” There orchids were draped in, on, and around antique whimsical statues, fountains, vases, and architectural ornaments. At this botanical garden the theme this year is “Storybook Classics.” Here the orchids are scattered in and around sets meant to represent children’s stories such as Peter Rabbit, the Secret Garden, and Jack and the Bean Stock.

The oleanders left to winter over in the Ottoman Garden are presumed dead. All three of them were dug up sometime last week and taken away. One of the oleanders had been planted in a container inside the Ottoman Garden. There other two were just outside the gate in an place sheltered on three sides. The Oleanders were double whites (or maybe double yellows?): varieties that have a reputation of being able to stand up to winter. These didn’t, at least on top. I wonder though if the trees had been allowed to stay, would their roots have sent up new sprouts?

If I don’t count aconites, snow drops, or tommy crocuses, the first flower of this new spring is a specie iris named Iris bakeriana. It’s huddled close to the north wall of the Ottoman Garden. The ID sign along side says it’s native to eastern Turkey and Northern Iran. These early irises begin it all again. I can’t look at them without imagining the color, warm days, and sweet scents of days not too far from now.

Hellebore 'Christmas Rose'

It’s not every year I get to see the Christmas Rose (Hellebore ‘Altifolius’) at its prime. More often than not, the plant is so beaten down by the weather that it only sends out a few anemic-looking, cold-burned brownish blooms. Some years though, the plant sends out a mound of dozens of pure-white perfectly formed flowers. This is one of those years. From a distance the mound of Christmas Roses is a blob of light in an otherwise brown and gray landscape.

Some of the pieces for the Niki de Saint Phalle sculpture exhibit that opens in late April have arrived. Inside the exhibit hall between the two glasshouses, some crates are being opened and unpacked. Still resting on bubble wrap is a black figure that looks like a spider or maybe a scorpion. Perhaps to make it more friendly looking, Niki painted a bright red heart on its torso. With the opposite message, one of the show’s stagers clipped this hand-written this message to the barrier belt that surrounded the creature.

clear with high whispy clouds: calm: 35ºF

This morning for the first time I was aware of the lengthening days. Instead of being dark when I got out of bed at 6:30, there was plenty of pre-dawn light. I saw the sunrise from my bedroom window instead of from my car on the way to the botanical garden.

A exhibit of curvaceous, playful sculptures of French sculptor Niki de Saint Phalle (1930 – 2002) is the next blockbuster show coming to this botanical garden. Two years ago the glass installations of Dale Chihuly were here. Last summer the Garden displayed the stone sculptures of the Shona artists of Zimbabwe. This year, Saint Phalle’s fantastical creations will arrive. Most of the thirty-odd pieces to be shown here will likely come from Garfield Park in Chicago where I saw the show last summer. I think the Saint Phalle sculptures will show even better here.

At Garfield Park the pieces were divided between ones shown in conservatory and those displayed outdoors. The inside pieces were tucked imaginatively into greenery, fountains, and ponds where they seemed right at home. Outside through, many of the pieces were placed cheek by jowl in a semi-circle at the far edge of an open field. No shade. No cover. And, a long walk. Interesting and colorful as the pieces were, I felt as though I was in an outdoor museum as I moved from one piece to another. The art and the setting never touched. This botanical garden has more space, more trees, and more landscaped breathing places to absorb and intermingle with the delights that the Niki pieces offer.

Even thought the Niki show doesn’t open until late April, this morning I saw this Niki de Saint Phalle teaser of coming attractions installed on a plinth at the entrance to the botanical garden. Last season the plinth supported a massive opal stone Chapungu statue. Now it supports an even wider and far taller piece: A Niki de Saint Phalle sculpture of a one of her “Nanas” -- a collection of enveloping motherlike figures that she says are “heralds of a new matriarchal age." As yet, the Nana just installed here has no label and I don’t remember it seeing it in the Chicago show.

Oleander leaves at the end of winter

The continuing saga of the Oleander trees left to winter-over: None are thriving. None even have a hint of green, although all of them still have a full head of leaves that have turned from grey-green to brown. I felt one of the leaves this morning. It was as dry and crisp as a high-priced cracker. Will they or won’t they revive with the coming spring?

Within the last couple of years, this botanical garden has planted an impressive collection of witch hazels. They have been blooming fairly continuously, albeit inconspicuously, throughout the fall and winter. Now though begins the showy blooming season of the hybrid varieties – the Hamamelis x intermedia. All of these main season witch hazels are a cross between a Japanese and a Chinese parent. (Perhaps a first in international relations). I like the crosses because they have more flowers, larger flowers, and come in a range of colors from pale yellow to the dusky red. Like roses though, some of the crosses have had their fragrance bred out of them. Lots of the intermedia are in full bloom this morning: the red ‘Diane,’ the washed to vibrant yellows of ‘Arnold Promise,’ ‘Primavera,’ and ‘Sunburst,’ and the coppery to oranges of ‘Jelena,’ and ‘Orange Peal.”

Witch hazel 'Bernstein'

My choice for generous blooms, big flowers, and vibrant, glowing color goes to a variety named ‘Bernstein’ that is blooming near the daylily gardens. A dealer-breaker though: no scent. I nosed right into a cluster of flowers, but got nothing in return.

My first sighting of new green: Tiny hints of what will grow into the large compound leaves of the False Spirea (Sorbaria sorbifolia) were visible poking out of the stem nodes in a stand of the shrubs in the English Woodland Garden.