BG Blog

I had the great good fortune to be wandering the streets in Tribeca Wednesday night after taking in a fascinating gallery opening for a Brazilian artist working with downed rainforest trees and creating incredible furniture (more about that in a future post--the show will be there for a while...).

The weather was fantastic, the trees in bloom and spring in New York was...well, spring in New York. My sweetheart and I were in no hurry, but getting hungry. She'd had a long day and took the subway down to the exhibit. There was no time to drive home and cook so we hoofed it to a Soho restaurant (homemade pasta with truffle sauce and wild morels---oh...my...God!)--and on the way, noticed an interesting phenomenon.

People, more correctly women (sorry, that's the fact) were coming at us down the streets with sprigs of flowering Prunus and other trees under their arms and tucked into their bags. I think it's fair to conclude that they, like us, had just concluded their day and were not bringing these specimens FROM home to another spot. Rather, they'd been damaging street trees.

Now, in the countryside we bemoan the natural pruning that deer do in our gardens—particularly when we have an idea of what a tree or shrub should look like. The difficulty encountered when trying to grow anything that a furry quadruped might find attractive for dinner, prompts us to take great pains to prevent or lessen their impact.

In the city, where gardens are relatively rare, every opportunity should be taken to enhance the environment with flowers and chlorophyll, the damage is particularly egregious. It’s not generally acceptable to shoot people. We could fence them out, but the psychological repercussions would offset the benefits.

Oblivious to the fact that these trees were planted for the enjoyment of ALL, these “urban deer”—two-legged, unthinking philistines, put their own individual interests and pleasure ahead of the 11 million other inhabitants of New York, and the countless visitors who marvel that even in THIS city, the streets come alive with flowers in spring—and they destroy public property in the bargain.

The trees may eventually grow out of the damage, branches extending beyond the reach of mere mortals to bloom again in future years. More likely, given that the useful life of a street tree is measured in less years than you have fingers on one hand, they will die—succumbing to the abuse foisted on them by their status as curbside ornaments—surely the hardest job any plant has to do.

Hot on the heels of a posting on potentially illegal behavior (in the name of horticulture) comes a similar concern--and evidence, perhaps, of unanticipated consequences of good practices.

In a recent BBC Newsarticle on cactus poaching in Mexico, the assertion is made that the illicit trade in pilfered pricklies is being partly fueled by the trend toward xeriscaping in the United States.

Xeriscaping is the practice of planting so that supplemental irrigation is not necessary. In other words, creating "dry" gardens for plants that don't need to be watered. This is, of course, beneficial to the environment--especially in areas with concern for their water supply. Demand for landscape specimens for such gardens is allegedly so high that organized crime in Mexico has seized the opportunity to go into "horticulture."

If there is merit to these claims, the result is the opposite of the recent posting on criminal behavior. There a man was being civilly disobedient to remedy bad horticutural practices. Here good horticultural practices may be encouraging illegal activity.

Widened to the spectrum of "environmental" actions, the analysis is no less perplexing. The ripple effect of the environmentally sensitive planting of plants with low water needs is apparently creating pressure on rare and endangered species in the wild.

Only awareness and keen, ethical purchasing by gardeners and homeowners can remedy the situation. Impact the market by buying ONLY nursery propagated plants and the demand--and profits for the criminals--will go down.

I'm a witness. Last night, at the Ramsey train station in New Jersey, I saw a man messing with public property. I watched him, a short older man with dark hair, wearing black, and with a hard brace on one leg, as he manhandled the horticulture being done at the otherwise attractive train station. While untold thousands of people had passed this way before, the plantings had remained relatively untouched and intact until now.

It was guerrilla horticulture of the highest order.

Although many would have shied from altering a municipal display, this man, civilly disobedient though he might be, gamely jumped in to try to save the trees in this ornamental planting. Some years old, the garden was maturing, and the supports used to anchor the trees in place had severely girdled them. The cincture cut deeply into the cambium and large, unsightly bulges protruded from above and below.

This small man, whose first language was not English, wrestled the twisted wire away from the trunks while a small boy with him watched and coached his efforts. Muttering as he worked, he freed tree after tree from their strictures.

The less enlightened among us might consider his actions vandalism since they involved public property. Seeing the trees tugged and pulled and the supports yanked apart, a zealous municipal officer might have ticketed the man. Yet his actions were bold and correct. The real crime was the lack of maintenance at this prominent location. The trees had obviously been left for years without anyone bothering to take the time to examine whether the supports were still necessary...or whether adjustments should be made to prevent them from injuring the tree.

It was left to this unassuming good samaritan to rescue them, providing care they sorely needed long ago. The scars will never heal--the damage is deep and permanent.

No matter. The trees are dead.

Return to BotanicalGardening.com.

Someone really ought to talk to the federal government about taxes. This is a lousy time of year for a gardener to be sitting down with stacks of paper, sharpened pencil, and a bottle of aspirin. The last thing we want to do is crunch numbers until our eyes glaze over. Doesn't the IRS realize the sun is shining, the soil is warming and their isn't a minute to lose?

Why can't taxes be due in, say, November? The garden's pretty much put to bed, it's not too close to the holiday season (for those who are paying...), yet close enough that a nice refund would be perfectly timed to make shopping less stressful financially. And think of the boost for the economy. No one would be able to save

that refund...it would ALL get spent.

And besides, although I realize that the government needs our help and should be paid for the services it provides us (don't even go there...), there's really no recognition of the societal services provided by us people who plant. Farm subsidies aside, people who till the soil have to do it for their own enjoyment; not because they want to feed others, improve air quality, enhance depleted soils, or enrich the overall quality of life for anyone who happens to wander by.

Cut us a little slack guys. If we aren't going to get a credit for all we do for the citizens of this country, at least stay out of our springtime rush with your paperwork deadlines. A slight consideration on your part would make our lives a whole lot easier.........

Forms all done? Check(s) written? Then come back to BotanicalGardening.com...

I know it's an accident of geography, but where I come from turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo) are primarily birds of the ground--raised purposefully in barnyards, and natural-born pests in cornfields and other agricultural settings. They were nearly always on foot, the North American equivalent of the large flightless birds of Africa and Australia.

Yet they CAN and DO fly, and roost in trees! They scamper up mountainsides on foot to escape approaching humans. They are, according to the field guides, at home in woods, mountain forests, and wooded swamps. Thus, it should not have come as a surprise that the loud splat that narrowly missed me in the driveway here in the northeastern US, came from the tail end of a turkey about 40 feet up a tulip tree. The bird, missing its target and having done collateral damage to nothing more than a driveway, took off on the wing and landed in another tree across Turtle Point Road.

Others have recently been seen doing the tree-to-tree thing--not as graceful as the ninja warriors in "House of Flying Daggers", but to much the same effect. I spotted still others running up rocky mountainsides, slipping on dried leaves as they pattered on.

In my ignorance, this very natural turkey behavior seemed strange and new. Soon they will be parading along the roadsides with their broods--all on foot (strangely comforting) now until the little ones have wings of their own...

We all thrill to the first signs of spring in the garden. Tender green noses peeking from the still-cold ground set hearts astir. Pulses quicken and long disused muscles are limbered in anticipation of the season. I think that half our enjoyment of the garden comes from anticipation.

What we're really waiting for is a long soaking rain--the one that comes after the ground has warmed a bit and which, like a fuse to the ground's gunpowder, explodes the garden into growth.

There's one every spring, and it's most magical when it comes at night. Morning exploration reveals a wonderland of newness. Long forgotten treasures join new jewels coming into the light. All are bedecked with glistering reminders of the night's mizzle.

The birds and animals sense it too. they are active and vocal, lending noise and movement to the garden. From one day to the next a massive change sweeps over garden and woodland.

It's coming. Soon. There's no stopping it to experience it as it happens. Be aware and you will encounter one of the great joys of the season.

Just don't forget to come back to BotanicalGardening.com...there's more on the way...

I just had the great good fortune of hosting Peter Korn from Sweden for one of his nights in New York on his 4 week lecture tour of North America. If you aren't familiar with his work, visit his website for a peek. It's not too early to consider Peter one of the rising stars in the gardening (especially rock gardening) world.

Korn's tour de force is a five acre property carved out of the spruce forest in his home Sweden. The garden is a collection of different habitats that prominently feature sand beds with fantastic rock work and naturalistic stone mulch (versus the "monoculture" of pea gravel used by many rock gardeners), and peat beds constructed with blocks of the material. He's built a rare plant nursery into the equation and sees shoppers from all over the world during his open season. Peter has had a six year run of amazing success growing an extraordinary array of plants (10,000+ taxa)--the largest private garden in the country. He has a great story to tell and may be coming to a NARGS (North American Rock Garden Society) chapter near you soon (he's in the US for three more weeks). Make sure to catch him if you can.

Wind is often thought of as an enemy of the garden: flattening plantings, necessitating staking, and doing not-so-flattering things to gardener's coiffures. There is, however, another side to the incessant zephyrs of spring. Strong winds are nature's exfoliators.

During the course of a tree's life it is continuously growing and dying. An accumulation of dead, but still attached branches, grows steadily--and not every stand of trees has a dedicated band of professional arborists to primp and prune it. Much like the dead skin cells that slough off of us continuously every day, little bits and pieces of tree drop as they become dry enough and brittle enough to let themselves go.

Enter the wind. Like the exfoliating body-wash in your shower, a strong wind storm acts to hasten the natural process of cleansing, blowing deadwood large and small from its lofty hold. It's surprising just how much material can be dropped. Most of it you've probably noticed; dead snags, leafless branches, long-gone twigs that you would have snipped out if you could reach them. But there are also branches you never knew were compromised--and this is but one added bonus of letting the wind do the work.

Scouring the trees of this detritus, the wind provides a money-saving service. Oh sure, you've got to run around collecting and removing the stuff from your lawns and flower beds, but have you priced the services of tree-trimmers these days? You're right...if the wind does it, you have no control over when, where, and how it happens. Get over it. You know what? No one ever said you had to do ALL the work.

Listen to the whisper of the wind...and then join me back at BotanicalGardening.com.

What fun! In her blog The Wild Side in The New York Times, the evolutionary biologist Olivia Judson--who also happens to be a wonderful and very accessible writer, looks at Ananas comosus, the humble pineapple, from the inside out.

Supposing herself to be no bigger than a thumb-nail, she delves into the unseen world in the little pools of water that accumulate in the leaf axils of pineapples and other members of the Bromeliaceae, or bromeliad family. Exploring this air-borne water-world with her is a delight as she has both the eye of a scientist and the skill of a story-teller.

Judson, author of "Dr. Tatiana's Sex Advice to All Creation: The Definitive Guide to the Evolutionary Biology of Sex" (it's on my shelf, what about you?), has been romping through the natural world on the band-width of the Times for a while now and has created some of the most enjoyable natural history reading on the web--entertaining and educational at the same time. Check her out regularly, or better yet, subscribe to the RSS feed (after you do it here!).

Can't wait to see what next week brings...

ALWAYS come back to BotanicalGardening.com...

The first of the plant orders for spring has arrived. It's not complete--it's still too early for that--but dormant woodlanders like hepatica, maidenhair fern and goodyera are here. They'll be planted (as long as they stay dormant...and the hepatica are already moving) as soon as the soil is able to be dug into.

At the same time, buds are showing on the hybrid hellebores planted out of plug trays two springs ago. Yes Helleborus niger is already in bloom, but those were decent sized when planted. These were tiny things--a thousand in number, and of assorted colors--that were planted all along a lengthy woodland path (mountain on one side, lake on the other).

It's trickle at the moment...but the floodgates are open!

Return to BotanicalGardening.com

Doing rounds yesterday in a coat too thin for the windy chill that has become our late winter, I was surprised to see a speedy pair of beady eyes duck behind a stump. It was bound to happen sooner or later. It's chipmunk time.

The ground is still frozen, bulbs are only showing noses (well, there are a couple of rather pathetic snow drops blooming--mortified and bent nearly double by the freezing cold), Helleborus niger is just opening its "bugger-the-snow" flowers, and these cunning little diggers are up--casing the garden. No doubt he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

The first chipmunk of spring hardly holds the cachet of some of our other phenological events, but is worth noting nonetheless. It's one of the earliest signs of the accuracy of the groundhog's prediction, and a precursor to a cavalcade of episodes, large and small, that mark the passing of the seasons.

My admiration for these little thiefs is readily apparent, no less so when they pop up unexpectedly. With the season in its prenatal state, chipmunks subsist on stored foodstuffs gathered last fall and secreted in their underground store rooms. They need to be careful about when they rouse themselves from their winter torpor. Metabolisms crank up at a meteoric pace and supplies of food need to last until the greengrocer outside is open for business.

Complicating matters, the first order of spring for a chipmunk is...procreation, one of the most energy intensive chapters of life (or am I just anthropomorphizing?). Just in time for the feast their will be little chippies everywhere.

Ain't life grand?

Scuttle back to BotanicalGardening.com...

Hate to do this to you all, but I'm wondering if anyone has subscribed to the RSS feed (Real Simple Syndication) to the BG Blog since its reincarnation in this form. You'll see the syndication options midway down the right hand border of this page. 

IF you've subscribed, please let me know if you're receiving notification of new entries. If NOT, why don't you give it a try. In theory you'll then be advised of each new posting instead of having to check in all the time to see what's new. Wouldn't that be nice??? Sort of like having the Times at your door everymorning automatically....

Thanks in advance for humoring me.