The Gift of Sight

I took a mental health day yesterday. The treatment was not so much for my brain as for my soul. I went to see the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Booth Museum, and stepped out of my daily life, and into the magnificence of the natural world on a grand scale. “Both the grand and the intimate aspects of nature can be revealed in the expressive photograph. Both can stir enduring affirmations and discoveries, and can surely help the spectator in his search for identification with the vast world of natural beauty and the wonder surrounding him.” This quote from Adams scratches the surface of what his photographs can do, and it is very hard for me to phrase it more completely. At once, he reveals intimate detail, and places it in the cosmic scheme.

Winter Sunrise Sierra Nevada 1944

The viewer is both humbled by the grandeur of the scenes, and also invited to be a part of the moment.

Oak Tree Sunset City

Dunes

Better writers than I can probably explain why his black and white photography is so effective. I can only say that without all the color to "distract" us, and with the exceptional workmanship in the print development, Adams gives us insight into the physical world, and a peek at what must be the more intimate and underlying constructs of the universe. Patterns of light and line are what human brains use to organize our individual worlds. But Adams has captured the essence of line and light as though to show all viewers the elements of the universe that we are a part of, and that are a part of us. As it turns out, that melding with the universe is very soothing, and as my friend Barbie pointed out, the room full of photographs was itself warm and quieting.


When we entered the exhibit, the first panel of introduction talked about Adams' love of the natural world, especially the Sierra Nevada. He was introduced to the Yosemite Valley on a family trip when he was 14. " The first impression of the Valley-white water, azaleas, cool fir caverns, tall pines, and solid oaks, cliffs rising to undreamed-of heights....was a culmination of experience so intense as to be almost painful. From that day in 1916, my life has been colored and modulated by the great earth-gesture of the Sierra". 
What a modest, mature  and marvelous description of a lifelong journey to the edges of the earth, and into the crevices of his own psyche.

Today I am back at work. I am taking his suggestion: "Simply look with perceptive eyes at the world about you, and trust to your own reactions and convictions. Ask yourself: "Does this subject move me to feel, think and dream? Can I visualize a print - my own personal statement of what I feel and want to convey - from the subject before me? "  
                                  and following him to the end of the skyline.

Valentine's Day

I got the gift of a gorgeous warm day today, and I have savored it more than a box of chocolates. I always enjoy reminders that spring will be here soon, and this winter, I have needed them.

I'm offering classes at the nursery this spring. I want to get gardeners out here. I want to show them what I love about this dirty work. But mostly I just like to talk about plants. Yesterday was the first class..."The Garden In Winter". As much as I dislike the winter weather that keeps me indoors, I do love the plants that show off in that "off" season. So...before spring sneaks up on me, I thought I might just throw out some names of the best of winter interest plants. It will give me the chance to continue talking about them
.Helleborus x 'Pink Lady'

Helleborus foetidus




Ilex vomitoria 'Virginia Dare



Jasminum nudiflorum


Mahonia x 'Winter Sun' STILL flowering

Cyclamen hederifolium Viburnum

Prunus mume

Hope you liked this little delicious Valentine's Day bite out of my winter garden. It is just a touch of what's out there, but you get the idea....If there is a special person in your life, or even a whole handful of special people, think about giving one of these very special plants on Valentine's Day. Your friend will enjoy it every Valentine's Day ever after. And when it turns cold and gray again, as it surely will, don't forget:

"The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size."

- Gertrude S. Wister

What a Difference a Snow Makes

I have been briefly interrupted from my green movement investigations. In fact, my whole winter existence has been interrupted by an uncharacteristically heavy and persistent snow. I was stuck outside for two days taking down shade cloth and erecting supports for coldframes before the 6" we got. Then I have been stuck inside for a week doing everything from YouTube surfing to year end taxes (yes... I WAS desperate). Now we have rain on top of that, so there's still no working in the garden.


We did not lose any coldframes this time. The ice and freezing rain that followed made things slick, but not broken. So I'm sitting here thinking that, as bad weather goes, this snow event wasn't bad at all.
As it turns out, it was actually very good for all my plants.
You see, snow is both crystallized frozen water and molecules from the air such as sulphur and nitrogen. In other words, snow serves as something like liquid feed for plants.

In spite of feeling like snow and freezing rain make all the plants too cold or too wet, both conditions act as insulators for plants from really cold temperatures. You've probably heard of orange groves in Florida turning on the sprinklers when they are about to experience a big freeze. The ice that surrounds that tropical fruit is 32 degrees but no lower than 32, so it effectively keeps the inside of the fruit from freezing. It works the same way even in hardy plants, and is especially effective when the "Arctic Express" winds come blasting out of the north with temperatures in the teens or below. Smaller twigs on deciduous trees and many of the leaves on broadleaf evergreens can be spared the dessication that is common with fierce and cold winds.

In addition, the agonizingly slow melting is just perfect for seepage into all the right spots in the garden, and down down down to the water table below, leaving it's bounty as it slowly makes it's way. In the Southeast, we are rarely blessed with the equivalent fine rain or mist that would offer the same effect.
I think I need to retract my whining complaints about the last snowy week. All things considered, it was pretty good.

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a Hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Robert Frost

Stirring the Pot

Gosh, the weather has been dreary, cold, uninviting. If you've read any of my other wintertime blogs, you already know that I do not enjoy staying inside. In fact, it makes me downright crabby. I have decided to put this contrary behavior to use in the coming weeks, and thereby wade through the bad weather while doing something constructive.


Here's the deal. I've been reading and hearing about all the "green" initiatives in the marketplace, and I am becoming skeptical. Don't get me wrong.....I am all for clean water, clean air, or the efficient use of energy and food. But maybe you'll agree with me. The marketing for "green" has gotten a bit out of hand. In the coming weeks, I plan to educate myself on some of the terminology and concepts in the current wave of green, and I invite you to follow along, and maybe add your own commentary to the educational process. I would like to sweep away (to use an agricultural analogy) the wheat from the chaff in order to identify what is useful and practical in the green movement, and what is the branding equivalent of "low fat" or "low in sugar". (You know.....the boxes that are all colored green.)


The first term I want to tackle is "NATIVE PLANT". I am confused by the enthusiasm of gardeners who want to use only "native plants" in their landscapes, but are simultaneously unable to define the term. I am annoyed by the proliferation of classes and books from experts on on"native plants" without a hint of their underlying theories, bias, or assumptions . As I continue to research this, I find I am not the only one! The fact of the matter is that this subject- even its definition- is a complicated one that deserves more thought and effort than one might get in a simple sound bite.
Let me show you what I mean.

From The Garden Helper
Any plant that occurs and grows naturally in a specific region or locality
Sorry- too vague. One is left trying to define practically each word in that sentence.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

Native plant is a term to describe plants endemic (indigenous) or naturalized to a given area in geologic time. or......

US Fish and Wildlife Service:
With respect to a particular ecosystem, a species that, other than as a result of an introduction, historically occurred, or currently occurs in that ecosystem .

Those seems like a reasonable definitions. Oh, wait......except for that "naturalized" or "introduced"part. To be true, this definition includes plants that have evolved and remained in one place, or have come from or been purposefully put other places over time and have become naturalized. Hmmmmm.

Here's a new twist......A plant that lives or grows naturally in a particular region without direct or indirect human intervention (USDA and (US National Arboretum)

or this from Andrea De-Long Amaya at the Lady Bird Wildflower Center : One that exists in a given region through non-human introduction, directly or indirectly.
Apparently some believe that it is humans that contaminate "nativity". Does that mean that those who rule out human intervention or introduction consider humans outside the realm of nature? Other variations on that same theme come from a wide range of places:
A native plant species is one "that occurs naturally in a particular region, state, ecosystem, and habitat without direct or indirect human actions" (Federal Native Plant Conservation Committee, 1994) A native plant, within a specified geographical region of interest, is a plant species (or other plant taxon) currently or historically present there without direct or indirect human intervention. (Larry Morse, L.E.M. Natural Diversity) Any plant which is a member of a species which was present at a given site prior to European contact (California Native Plant Society)

So, to recap, we have plants that may or may not be from one location, may or may not have had human intervention, may or may not be a member of a region, state, habitat or ecosystem, and may have time constraints ranging from geologic time to the European exploration of the 16th century. Now do you see why I am confused?? Each of these definitions carries both implications and possible points of action. It is not enough to use the words without knowing what you mean by them. I am also working on digesting Bringing Nature Home, the very popular book by Douglas Tallamy that advocates planting native plants (his definition is even more complicated than those seen above). We'll need to talk about insects, birds, disease, competition for resources and other variables before it is all over.
To be perfectly honest, I grow good ornamental plants, both native and non-native. Some of my very favorite plants- ones that I have raved about on these very pages- are "aliens". This is my bias. Some part of me resents feeling pressured to choose against plants I think are well adapted to southeastern conditions. But this much is clear to me right now. I might have a bias, but others do as well. The culture of green has encouraged a marketing scheme about how to sell certain plants. Those customers who buy into this strategy seem to purchase both actual plants and a sense of "ethical consumption". This may be a very complicated "chicken or egg" problem. I am just trying to figure out what comes first.....an understanding of eco-system implications..... or a politically correct pat on the back.
Michael Pollan has done an excellent job of tackling some of these bigger issues, especially when it comes to horticulture and gardening. I like his point of view right now, and would like to hold on to it as I continue to explore the topic:

"We are at once the problem and the only possible solution to the problem" *Second Nature: A Gardener's Education 

I wonder what you think?

Thanksgiving

"We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures." ~Thornton Wilder

It's been a lively year. Acer palmatum 'Baldsmith' And while it seems in some sense to be winding down, it's also a very exciting time in the garden. Fall color is everywhere and indian summer weather calls us out to enjoy it a little longer. Sunny days now come packed in clear blue skies.

Acer palmatum 'Crimson Queen' .
This dewy morning I am "conscious of my treasures", and happy to share a few. The Japanese maples are all reaching their peak reds, yellows and golds. Their various shapes and sizes dance among the conifers, and reflect the colors of the larger trees.

Ginkgo biloba 'Princeton Sentry'
Ulmus parvifolia 'Burgundy'

Pistacia chinense

Taxodium distichum 'Cascade Falls'

Lindera angustifolia

Thanks to my friends and family for all the wonderful moments and days of this year, and to my plants, who are all smiling.

"Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile."

William Cullen Bryant

The Needles of Fall

I often give talks about conifers. It is one of my favorite plant groups because of the year round range of colors, habit, texture, size, and uses. At this time of year I am reminded of that special, small subgroup of conifers for the SE that are deciduous. Made up of Taxodium, Metasequoia, Pseudolarix, Ginkgo and a few others, this group often goes unnoticed and unloved in the blaze of the deciduous flowering trees in the fall.


So, let's take a quick look. Taxodium distichum , including it's various forms and cultivars, is the Bald Cypress. Most people know this to be the large tree that grows in swamps and has "knees". It was the conventional wisdom that these knees provided oxygen that would be in short supply under water. However, this does not seem to be the case. (U.S. Forest Service Silvics Manual: Taxodium distichum) More likely is that knees in or near water function as a secondary method of buttressing in addition to the wide lower trunk. These trees are very valuable for a number of reasons. The ecosystem of the swamps and its function as protection of the interior land areas is essential in the southeastern coastal areas of the US. The wood from these trees is of enormous economic value as a sustainable raw material for building. And as an ornamental tree, there are increasing numbers of cultivars being selected to provide choices for many garden uses.
 One such cultivar is a cross between T. distichum, and a variety called mucronatum which grows in Mexico. It is called 'Nanjing Beauty' because the cross was made in China, but it is a stunning choice for SE gardens. And this magnificent color holds on for the entire winter!


Metasequoia glyptostroboides is the Dawn Redwood. This is a relatively newly discovered Chinese species (first described in 1941), but has an archeaological history that goes back over 5 million years. This "living fossil" is a fast growing tree that achieves a height of up to 120' and is usually an upright pyramidal shape.


Both Taxodium and Metasequoia have a soft, ferny texture to the foliage, and each has a beautiful bronze fall color to the foliage.

Another lesser known but equally magnificent deciduous conifer is Pseudolarix amabilis., or Golden Larch. It is as heat tolerant as Bald Cypress and Dawn Redwood, and has a soft look and texture. It's needles are arranged in whorls around the stems,which give it quite a remakable, noticeable appearance. It's fall color is copper, and it holds this foliage for weeks before the cold rains and harsh winds of the coming winter take them down.


Last but certainly not least is Ginkgo biloba.

Technically Ginkgo is a gymnosperm, which is a precurser to conifers. It's leaves look very much like a flowering plant, but do not have the same kind of veination. It also seems like a fruiting plant because the female trees have yellow fruits that look something like a small plum. Apparently these fruits are delicacies in certain forms of Chinese cuisine. But if you've ever walked by a female Ginkgo that has dropped her fruit, the nauseating rotten egg smell defies the logic of eating these things. No doubt, whether you know about Ginkgo fruit, or botany, or any of the many cutivars, most everybody recognizes it's fall color.

Once again, I must quote Elizabeth Lawrence:
"Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn. "
But watch for the needles, too!

"Remembrance of Things Past" *

I got my first whiff of the Osmanthus today. I was sticking cuttings and listening to the radio and daydreaming about entirely different things. It is a beautiful sunny, cool fall day, with a little breeze to keep the temperatures perfectly pleasant. It was just a passing scent.....tooti-frooti, bubble gum.... rising above all the other smells of fall, and hanging for a moment just beyond my nose. Instantly I put down the branches, and left the table in search of those hidden blossoms. Sure enough, no more than a few flowers open among thousands of buds was enough to call my full attention to the present. Or maybe I should say the past....

It's fascinating how smells bring memories flooding back uncontrollably. I have many associated with the fragrance of Tea Olive, but if filtered, they seem to share a sense of a comfortable place, a childhood bouquet in some make believe play, sharp spiney leaves, , a mystery scent calling from down the path.
I decided to look up the phenomenon of memory and scent and found some very interesting and compelling research uncovering the bases of the link.

By Karl S. Kruszelnicki (excerpts)

---

....Traditionally, we humans have five senses - they're smell, hearing, vision, touch and taste. But only two of these senses are based on chemicals - smell and taste. Smell and taste let us sample the chemicals around us for information. But smell is different from all the other senses in a very special way. A smell from your distant past can unleash a flood of memories that are so intense and striking that they seem real - and we're getting close to understanding why.

....This kind of memory, where an unexpected re-encounter with a scent from the distant past brings back a rush of memories, is called a "Proustian Memory". It's named after Marcel Proust, one of the greatest novelists of the 20th century. He describes this phenomenon in the opening chapter of his novel Swan's Way, the first novel in his mammoth seven-part work, Remembrance Of Things Past.

.....Whichever way it happens, electrical signals get generated in the receptor cells and do go to the limbic area of the brain. Now here's a really weird thing. The limbic area of the brain evolved directly from primitive smell structures. In other words, according to Professor Rachel S. Herz, "the ability to experience and express emotion grew directly out of the brain's ability to process smells."

http://www.abc.net.au/science/articles/2001/07/05/313350.htm

It is no wonder at all, then, that the very first and most primitive sense- smell- is so directly tied to memory. And yet it is a most wonderful tool for the imagination; a sticky web to catch the pasts, then wrap them into the present. One crisp fall day perfectly preserved over and over in the tiny flowers of your Grandmother's Tea Olives.

"For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it is a pity that we use it so little".

- Rachel Carson

* Marcel Proust