I am not sure how we managed to get to the end of this year so quickly—perhaps I never am—but like all the others, this year seemed to gallop as it approached the finish line. I generally like to finish off my year of blogging with environmental topics, so that we can reflect on our role and renew our commitment to preserving the natural world in small yet significant ways.
This year, these larger-than-life contemplations will have to wait until after the New Year. My topic today is light, airy, and fragrant. Everyone seems to be growing paperwhites (Narcissus papyraceus) and amaryllis (Hippeastrum sp.) this year. I will describe how easy it is to grow these two winter wonders and inspire you to try—if you haven’t already.
Based on the classification given by the American Daffodil Society, paperwhites come from Division 8—Tazetta Daffodils. The members of this division are incredibly floriferous with some producing up to 20 blossoms per stem (range 5–20). They prefer warmer conditions than many of their bulbous brethren. While some members of this division are hardy to zone 5, the paperwhites that you force in the winter months are only hardy from zones 8–10.
When walking in the woodland area of the Native Plant Garden this time of year, you will meet up with the native fern Polystichum acrostichoides, commonly known as the Christmas fern. These ferns can form large, one- to two-foot clumps; are easy to grow; and are standouts in winter due to their evergreen leaves.
The individual leaves on each frond are stocking-shaped, reminiscent of Christmas stockings, which some people claim is the origin of the plant’s common name. But, in fact, the name “Christmas” fern comes from its having deep green fronds at Christmas time, says NYBG fern expert Robbin C. Moran.
Dr. Moran’s entertaining and enlightening book, A Natural History of Ferns, (available in the NYBG shop or by print-on-demand from Timber Press), explains how these amazing plants reproduce by actually “shooting” their very tiny spores. “The spores leap more than an inch into the air and arch downward,” Moran observes. “It is like watching popcorn popping.”
With the holidays upon us, I figured I should share some tips for getting out of sticky situations. No, I don’t mean finding the words you need to mask your disappointment when you unwrap yet another holiday-themed tie, or filling those pregnant silences that come after receiving a gift that’s just a little too practical.
The sticky mess I refer to is sap. Just looking at a conifer is enough to make my hands feel sticky. The holidays are a perfect time for buying or making your own holiday wreaths or evergreen table decorations, and I usually journey down to the floral district on 28th street—between 6th and 7th—to pick up my supplies. But the tree vendors that set up on street corners seem to have an ever-expanding selection of greens.
While most of the Garden is being put to bed, our Seasonal Walk—designed by Piet Oudolf—is still putting on a notable display as the winter approaches. This is thanks to Oudolf’s naturalistic design which incorporates many plants that senesce well and provide interest even after they’ve passed their seasonal prime.
A week or two ago I was working on the Seasonal Walk, tidying up the border with my colleague, Katie Bronson, and we were admiring some of the sturdier perennials that still looked good even into December. One of the most striking features of the Walk at the onset of the hibernal months is the tall purple moor grass (Molinia caerulea ssp. arundinacea ‘Transparent’). This grass played an important role earlier in the season as it shot up to nearly six feet, towering over many of its neighboring perennial brethren. ‘Transparent’ has airy flowers with an open habit and long-lasting seedheads.
The stems of ‘Transparent’ turn into a vision of glowing embers late in the season, when they take on golden, orange, and raspberry hues. Those of you with a watchful eye may have noticed as you strolled down the border that some of the stems on certain grasses were upright, sturdy, and colorful, while other, similar grasses looked somewhat worse for wear and had only golden yellow stems. Katie told me that along with ‘Transparent’, some tall more grass (Molinia arundinacea ‘Skyracer’) had been planted. Presumably these plants will be removed in the spring and replaced with more ‘Transparent’. It was difficult to distinguish the two during the growing season, but their disparities became apparent in the fall.
As the holiday season descends on us, it’s time for gardeners to spruce up their home in preparation for the seasonal festivities. I love the smell of pine in my home and I always try to create an evergreen holiday centerpiece for my table. The addition of a Balsam fir adds a lovely fragrance to my living room.
As a New Yorker, I am bombarded by Christmas tree vendors when I walk down the streets around this time of year. Having moved several times in my 10-year tenure in the city, I’ve discovered that Christmas trees are like Rainer cherries. Their price changes as you walk from east to west, and they drop the further north you walk. I have vivid memories of living on the east side and walking from 2nd Avenue to Madison during cherry season, watching the price rise from $4.99 a pound to $13.99—all within a four-block radius.
Now a Westsider, I buy my trees anywhere from West 106th to West 118th. Last year, I bought an eight-footer for a wonderful price. The tree took a ride on the M10 thanks to a generous driver who understood that my eyes were bigger than my arms. This year I am torn between the good prices I see at my local Whole Foods and the deals that I see on West 106th. It all depends on how far I want to lug the tree.
Winter is suddenly upon us and, as the temperatures plummet and the city braces for the inevitable snow and ice, many will find their way to the garden’s iconic Enid A. Haupt Conservatory to decompress, take a leisurely stroll among the lush, tropical foliage, and escape the bitter cold. Some, perhaps inspired by the lowland rain forest houses or the desert displays, will jet off to warmer climes. While I freely admit that I already work in paradise, it’s nice to get out and see some of my plants in habitat now and again.
I recently took an exploratory trip through the Sonoran desert of Mexico and into Arizona. By design I made no specific plans and, like a slightly less profane version of Anthony Bourdain, I had “No Reservations.” From the dusty desert proper through the dense Chaparral shrubland and semi-arid grasslands of Arizona, much of the area ranges in temperature from broiling hot to bone-chilling, depending on month and time of day. Here it was late October and still scorching with nary a cloud in the sky to provide respite.
The landscape is truly as beautiful as it is unforgiving, and the same may be said of the plant life. My arms and legs looked as if they’d been shredded by a tidal wave of furious cats; such were the hazards of botanizing in a region so thick with spiny inhabitants. I would later discover the name for a cowboy’s protective “chaps” was actually derived from the word “Chaparral”—an arid and prickly biome on the Sonoran desert’s northern border. One quickly discovers the Chaparral functions quite efficiently as human sandpaper.
With Thanksgiving and the season’s first snow behind us, the reality of winter is now upon us. At this time of year the rose garden is closed to the public, but the gardeners are still busy working. Fall clean-up is important!
As every rose gardener knows, the queen of flowers is particularly susceptible to black spot. The spores of the fungus will happily over-winter in the soil around your roses. It is paramount to clean up all the diseased foliage and be meticulous about keeping the area around the rose clean.
Once our roses start to go dormant for the winter and the ground starts to cool, we surround the base of the plants with mulch. The mulch acts like a winter Parka, protecting the base of the rose during the cold winter months. We use a finely shredded bark mulch that doesn’t get matted down into large clumps. “Hilling” or mounding mulch around the base of our roses to a depth of 6 to 8 inches provides ample protection during the cold winter months.
They are ubiquitous during the holiday season—and for good reason. Poinsettias (Euphorbia pulcherrima) are affordable, colorful plants with an enormous amount of festive appeal. But, contrary to popular opinion, the flowers are actually minuscule. The beauty of the poinsettia comes from its large, colorful red bracts.
Poinsettias come not only in the traditional yuletide red, but in a selection of cream-colored and rosy pink varieties as well. Whatever your tastes, they adorn many public spaces and homes during the holiday season.
I wince when I see people walking down the street with an open poinsettia in hand, fully exposed to the elements. Do your part to be an informed shopper and insist that the florist or retail store you purchase your poinsettia from wraps the plant before you leave with it. It doesn’t have to be an elaborate affair—it can be as little as temporarily covering the plant with a shopping bag. You must remember that you’re dealing with a tropical plant, and it can’t handle our area’s cool temperatures.
I was watering containers around the Café one weekend in September when a woman stopped me to ask some questions about herbs. She had seen the large containers of parsley on display and was wondering what we did to keep the plant so healthy.
She explained that she had purchased parsley this summer and had placed it on her windowsill in her kitchen. It was not as verdant and vibrant as ours, and she was wondering what she had done wrong. I explained that our container displays comprised several plants to create a lavish appearance, but it was not simply quantity but also the size of the container that produced the bountiful display.
For your herbs to thrive, they need ample space to grow. Herbs are generally sold in spring in small, three- to four-inch pots. The small sizes of the pots are convenient for growers and it keeps the price down. Once you bring it home, the herb will need a bigger home so the root system can expand to support the plant.
If the herb is to be placed on your windowsill within arm’s reach of your cutting board, you probably won’t be able to repot it in a larger container, but even bumping it up to a six-inch pot will make a world of difference.
Todd Forrest is the NYBG’s Arthur Ross Vice President for Horticulture and Living Collections. He leads all horticulture programs and activities across the Garden’s 250-acre National Historic Landmark landscape, including 50 gardens and plant collections outside and under glass, the old-growth Thain Family Forest, and living exhibitions in the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory.
Approximately thirty thousand trees add shade and scale to the Garden, including thousands of mature oaks, maples, sweet-gums, beeches, birches, tulip-trees, black-gums, and other deciduous beauties in the Native Plant Garden, Azalea Garden, and dotted across the hills and dales of our historic landscape. All of these wonderful shade trees make fall at the Garden a heart-breakingly beautiful mosaic of yellow, orange, burgundy, scarlet, and brown, particularly when late October and early November days are bright and nights are crisp but not freezing.
All of these wonderful shade trees also make the annual ritual of fall leaf pick-up a Herculean task for Garden horticulturists, who take up rakes, blowers, mowers, vacuums, and any other tool they can think of and spend the better part of three months each year in an elaborately choreographed leaf gathering and transporting dance across the Garden’s 250 acres. If all goes as planned, leaf pick-up begins in early October and is mostly finished before winter’s first substantial snowfall.
