With such wild changes in temperature, this year’s crop of early spring blooms is a hearty bunch indeed. The Garden party is already getting started in the Jane Watson Irwin Perennial Garden, whose enthusiastic residents are always some of the first to rise from their slumber.
The vibrant ‘Arnold Promise’ witch-hazel (Hamamelis × intermedia) is blooming alongside the snowdrops (Galanthus) and winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis). The Ladies’ Border is also lovely at the moment, with Amur adonis (Adonis amurensis) in bloom and both the paper bush flowers (Edgeworthia chrysantha) and viburnum (Viburnum × bodnantense ‘Dawn’) in bud.
For serene shades of white and violet, stop by Wamsler Rock to see more snowdrops alongside the early crocus (Crocus tommasinianus). Click through for some gorgeous close-ups of those intrepid blooms that herald the long-awaited spring!
The Native Plant Garden‘s entrance decking, promenade, and benches are all made with lumber from native, sustainably harvested black locust trees (Robinia pseudoacacia)—a wonderfully durable, rot-resistant hardwood species with a long and colorful history.
Native Americans in Virginia made bows from black locust and are believed to have planted the trees moving eastward from the Southern Appalachians. Colonists at Jamestown reportedly used the trees to build corner posts for their first homes. The wood was also used by pioneers for fence posts, ship masts, and for pegs—called trunnels—in ship building.
Black locust tree (Robinia pseudoacacia)
When wet, the wood expands and becomes leak proof. So the ship trunnels were so strong that they lasted even longer than the ship hulls. According to naturalist Donald Peattie, after the War of 1812, the British claimed that they were defeated on Lake Champlain because of the superiority of the Americans’ “locust fleet” built with the trunnels.
Black locust trees grow rapidly by sending out underground stems that send up new shoots to form new trees. For this reason some considered them to be invasive or at best a nuisance. Because the tree spreads naturally, it is usually found in groves and these can be managed sustainably. For outdoor projects in the New York metro area, some progressive landscape architects seem to be using it more frequently as an alternative to tropical hardwoods.
Joyce H. Newman holds a Certificate in Horticulture from The New York Botanical Garden and has been a Tour Guide for over seven years. She is the former editor of Consumer Reports GreenerChoices.org.
Monarch butterflies are among the most popular and prominent insects in the Native Plant Garden, easy to spot with their dramatically dark orange and black patterned wings. One reason for their high visibility and large numbers is actually their relationship with the tall milkweed plants, which are flowering now in the dry meadow. Without the milkweeds, we wouldn’t have the monarchs.
In fact, monarchs (Danaus plexippus) depend on milkweed throughout their entire life cycle—when they lay eggs and when their larvae, in caterpillar form, feed exclusively on milkweed.
Many different species of native milkweed provide nourishment for monarchs, including swamp milkweed, green, purple, redwing, whorled, and horney spider varieties. The dry meadow contains a total of more than 500 milkweed plants. Of these, by far the most numerous are the butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa).
”Saw this rare yellow magnolia in bloom last weekend at the NY Botanical Garden” @OliverSacks
Recently the eminent neurologist, author, and friend of the GardenDr. Oliver Sackstweeted a picture of himself with one of NYBG‘s yellow magnolias. “Saw this rare yellow magnolia in bloom last weekend at the NY Botanical Garden,” Dr. Sacks said. This resulted in a series of questions about yellow magnolias, most of which I could not answer. So I turned to someone who could, the Garden’s Manager of Plant Records, Jon Peter.
One of the biggest questions was as to whether or not the magnolia pictured, Magnolia ‘Butterflies’, is in fact yellow. “Yes it is really yellow, although a pale yellow,” Jon Peter assured me. This is one of the problems with digital plant pictures, everyone’s screen is slightly different, so hues can appear different to different people. But you can trust me, Dr. Sacks, and Jon Peter—this beautiful tree is truly yellow. It has a creamy, buttery color, with just a touch of chartreuse shot through. It is especially spectacular when set against more traditional blossoming tree colors like pink and white.
It’s been a trying wait, I admit. But I seem to remember someone spouting off a line about “good things” in store for those with a little patience in hand. And after a drawn out season of waffling temperatures and flaky snowstorms–nothing at all like last year’s phoned-in winter–we’re finally seeing the rewards of all that waiting. It’s been a sleepy spring thus far, but the Garden’s now waking up to a fanfare of yellows, pinks, purples and whites!
Some spots, of course, are more alert than others. Most of the trees are still sleeping it off in the early going, but the snow-white and fragrant magnolia blossoms–thousands of them–are blooming en masse across the landscape. Narcissus crowd the lawns in dairy colors, and passersby won’t have any trouble finding hints of spring color along the Seasonal Walk, just to the side of the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, where netted irises and dainty daffodils already perk up the atmosphere. Across the lawn in the Perennial Garden, orange pansies mingle with soft blue chionodoxa, spotted in between with drowsy snowdrops and a few electric tulips.
And the Ladies’ Border is no slouch, either; you’ll find the fan-favorite ‘Peggy Clarke’ plum blossom tree lighting up the branches with poodle skirt pinks; lime green ‘Honeyhill Joy’ hellebores at full attention; dense bunches of paper bush flowers; and the occasional crowd of bee-friendly Amur Adonis opening to the sky. Further back, look (or sniff) for the perfumed mahonia blossoms, right near the blushing ‘Spring’s Promise’ camellia flowers.
The sensuous curves of skunk cabbage inflorescences brighten a swamp in early spring.
For those thirsting for some sign of rebirth after a long, cold winter, you need go no further than the closest swamp. Skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) has been up and in flower for over a month now. In fact, skunk cabbage may be found in flower as early as mid-February in this area. While many people may not consider skunk cabbage to be a ”true” spring wildflower, that is, one that is sweet, delicate, and pastel-colored, it is, indeed, one of our native wildflowers, and a plant deserving of our attention and admiration. The floral parts have a certain sculptural beauty, and the deep maroon color is striking in the otherwise bleak landscape.
Other than a few valiant (or confused) snowdrops peeking up from under the soil, the bulk of the NYBG‘s outdoor flowers continue to sleep it off until the early days of spring. That makes the Garden’s beauty less reliant on the landmarks of a map, and moreso on the simple love of exploration! The Forest, home to such a thick canopy in summer, now shows off the linework of its illustrated branches. The warm gradient of the grasses and reeds stands in for bobbing flower heads. And in months like January, the landscape takes on iced-over contrasts with a dab of the noir aesthetic.
2012’s winter offering proved closer to an endless fall than anything climatologists would have preferred, creating some interesting consequences in plant behavior. But this year, climate change aside, winter is making at least the tiniest effort to act the part! For one, buying these boots was hands-down my best decision of 2013–I’ve already saved myself a few embarrassing falls in the snowdrifts we get every few days. Even the fast-flowing Bronx River is still sloughing off the ice that crept in over the course of last week’s dipping thermometer.
This post is a bit of an anomaly for our “What’s Beautiful Now” series. Usually, we cobble these together to show our fans and visitors what’s worth slipping into the agenda during a trip to the NYBG; each post is a rundown of what you should go and enjoy at its peak flower or aroma, depending on the season. But some of the collections we have growing here at the Garden aren’t always open for public consumption–not yet, anyway. They’re too early in their growth, or still being primped for coming exhibitions. And most of these plants fall within the purview of the Nolen Greenhouses for Living Collections, where preparation begins for coming events many months (if not years) before opening day rolls around.
Seeing as I already teased you this past weekend with some of the jungle jewels sprouting up under the glass of the Nolen Greenhouses, I figure there’s no reason to keep the rest of Ivo’s recent photo shoot cooped up in our files. Standouts among the photos taken are easily the orchids, a few of which we expect to steal the spotlight in 2013’s spring Orchid Show. And while we can’t spill the entire layout of the exhibition just yet, I’m all too happy to pass along a gallery of eye candy in the meantime.
We gush over green for so much of the year that a quick break from the norm is more than welcome. So this week, I’m shifting focus for something a little more in line with the exuberance of the Halloween season, a hue that our resident photographer, Ivo Vermeulen, is all too willing to champion–at least if his favorite pair of garish pants has anything to say about it. I’d show you a picture but I’m under the impression we had to put a ban in writing to keep him from blinding visitors (though it certainly doesn’t stifle this Dutchman’s nationalism). In any case, it’s tough to live year-round in the northeast and not have at least the shadow of a soft spot for the fiery orange of autumn.
The changes around the NYBG are not always subtle. The tulip trees have slipped into their lemon yellows, and the boughs fringing the Forest follow suit with a citrus spectrum of their own. In the Home Gardening Center, neon orange chrysanthemums carry the torch for the flowers. It won’t be long now before we’re walking the Garden trails beneath an entirely different canopy, one splashed with all the painted warmth that winter tends to be so stingy with. But for now, we’ll take in all this early orange wonder while the weather’s still playing nice enough to leave our galoshes and down coats stuffed in the closet.
It’s something of a quiet Monday here at the NYBG (we’re not open most Mondays; it’s best to give the horticulturists a clear space to do their weekly tidying-up), and the thermometer is dipping rapidly. I’m not going to say that fall has begun, necessarily, as it’s probably just a fluke weather pattern. But it puts me in the mood for looking forward! Thankfully, the prolific Ivo Vermeulen has left me with enough photographs to geek out on some pre-season imagery.
What carries me so often to the Benenson Ornamental Conifers is what you’d call the most subtle of beauties. But I guess that stands for the Garden’s evergreens in general. They’re not showy in the way that a rose presents, though many of them sport as much–if not more–fragrance. Instead, the conifer lands more in the territory of regal reflection. For most people in the northern hemisphere, nothing quite heralds the season like an evergreen dusted with snow. (Not that we had much opportunity to enjoy that kind of scenery this past winter.)
With such wild changes in temperature, this year’s crop of early spring blooms is a hearty bunch indeed. The Garden party is already getting started in the Jane Watson Irwin Perennial Garden, whose enthusiastic residents are always some of the first to rise from their slumber.
