In January of last year, I wrote a series of blog entries on “Snow-tober: No Tree Left Behind,” followed by a blog series on “Winter Injury.” These blogs chronicled the devastating October snow storm and the erratic weather that we experienced during the later months of 2011. My discussion at the time focused on the extensive damage that The New York Botanical Garden endured, giving homeowners tips on how to assess structural damage on trees and combat winter burn on evergreens.
Since then, Super Storm Sandy has drawn our attention away from the Garden and focused it on coastal areas. Over the past few weeks I have been talking to a number of professionals working in the tri-state area, detailing their personal experiences with the mega storm. This has included experts on soils and trees, garden writers, nurserymen that sell halophytic plants (salt-tolerant plants), and restoration landscape designers.
The energy from this group–individuals who were out on the front line of restoration and remediation–and the enormity of the damage from this storm are mind-boggling. My hope is that these painful lessons will help teach us how to work with and respect nature–particularly when it comes to safeguarding our coastline.
Not too surprisingly after yesterday’s physical exertion, we are all slow to get up this morning. Much to my delight, I am not nearly as stiff as I had expected I might be, but several others are. After a leisurely breakfast, I offer two options to the group, go into the field in the morning and the afternoon, or spend the morning processing the previous day’s collections–since no one did that last night. I am the only one to stay on the ship. I want to insure that the Serka Glacier collections are dry, or at least on the dryer, before gathering more. Being the only scientist to stay on the ship, I am able to process all 90 of yesterday’s collections; get them on the dryer; empty the dryer of earlier, now dry collections and move them to the engine room for storage; and catch up on the blog.
Because our Strongylodon macrobotrys is looking especially elegant in recent weeks, and because we’ve had at least a couple of requests for more pictures of it (via Twitter in particular), I figured I’d put together a sampling of the jade vine in all its unchallenged splendiferousness. You’re welcome to read more about the green and red jade vines here, but in the meantime, we’re perfectly content with you basking in the eye candy of this winter favorite. And if you hurry, you might even be able to see it for yourself in the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory.
With less than a week between now and the opening of our 11th annual Orchid Show, it seems as good a time as any to poke our heads inside the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory and see what’s what with our hard-at-work horticulturists! There are literally thousands of exotic orchids to arrange in time for the March 2 opening, and with Tropical Paradise only just packing it in for the year, our staff is rising to the challenge of kicking off this yearly favorite with a proper bang.
All hands are on deck to make our naturally-inspired display the most colorful and gratifying experience you’ll have in New York City this spring. And few know the ins and outs of this complicated process like Christian Primeau, Manager of the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory. Working along with the curatorial expertise of Vice President of Glasshouses and Exhibitions, Francisca Coelho, Christian and the rest of the team are implementing stunning designs, plant by plant, with an eye for both color and natural arrangements. But these wouldn’t be quite the same without an unforeseen addition to our exhibition: a few of the 300 Garden trees affected by Hurricane Sandy this past October.
We arrange for the horses to be ready at 9 a.m. Initially the crew tell us it will cost about $30 to rent a horse for a day, but the ranchers counter with $50. This is more than I am prepared to spend, but with some negotiation we settle on $40 for each of the seven horses plus a guide for the day. I decide $280 is well worth the opportunity to access an area in our flora region that otherwise would be unreachable.
As of this past weekend, Tropical Paradise is retired for another year. But there’s something even more intriguing on the horizon, if you know what I mean. Thus begins the countdown to The Orchid Show!
Synchronize your watches–today at 12:30 p.m. marks the start of our Winter Tree Tour, leaving from the Reflecting Pool at the Visitor’s Center. There’s a lot of seasonal beauty out there to catch up on, and only a bit of season left to do it!
Pinus parvifolia ‘Brevifolia’ — Photo by Ivo M. Vermeulen
I just….love ferns, tree ferns especially. You should, too! You’ll find some of ours hanging out in the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, though the Native Plant Garden promises to have plenty of fringed beauties hanging around come the grand reopening. Keep an eye out for that one in early May.
It’s the last weekend of our Tropical Paradise exhibition, and while the sun’s made a fair showing throughout the week, there’s still enough frost in the air to warrant a little escapism. Of course, that’s what this event is all about–having a chance to at least pretend that you’re not in New York City in the dead of winter. And through Sunday, the doors to our steamy Conservatory will still be open to visitors hoping to explore the real stars of our permanent collection–and leaving their scarves on the rack, too.
Sunday also marks the final day of open photography workshops in the Conservatory, as well as your last opportunity to pitch your name into the hat for our yearly tropical photography contest. Thus far it’s been a heated challenge between a number of talented shutterbugs, but there’s always the opportunity to get in the game with photos of your own, even if you’re late to the party!
For the would-be polar bears among you, this weekend’s schedule offers more than just daydreams under the palm trees; we’re also hosting an involved Winter Tree Tour on Sunday, something to complement Saturday’s traditional outdoor Bird Walk with Debbie Becker. It’s your chance to see winter’s aesthetic from a slightly different angle–one that appreciates the angles and arches of the trees.
But you don’t have to fret. Closing the doors on Tropical Paradise is one of those situations where we open a window elsewhere–in this case, one that looks out on thousands upon thousands of orchids! So stay tuned for next week, folks.
The ship moves overnight. We arrive here at 4:30 a.m., just 15 minutes after I come up on the deck. However, except for the captain’s area, all is quiet with the crew and so I return to my bunk until there is more activity and the sun is up. Returning to deck at 7:30 a.m.–still the first non-crew–I find that we are in a quiet bay and that there is a light rain falling. The bay is fed by a shallow but broad river originating at a glacier. As a consequence, the water in the bay is milky and opaque from the large silt load. I don’t remember ever having seen this down here before and I wonder if it will be an indication of a different local substrate (and thus a different bryoflora).
After several seasons of collecting in pristine areas, the existence of a ranch just over the hill from where we are anchored and evidence of human influence on the landscape seems quite odd. When we split up half the group goes to see the ranch and look for bryophytes on disturbed substrates. I, along with Paddy and Niels, choose to cross the bay which proves quite the challenge. The cloudiness of the water combines with what I can only interpret as low tide making the bottom invisible. As the Zodiac approaches the shore, the water begins to churn with the activity of what seems to be a large number of large fish (we couldn’t be sure because the water is so cloudy we can’t actually see what is causing the commotion).
Our Zodiac runs aground at least 50 yards from shore and we are surprised to find the water shallow enough to wade to shore through a muddy, seaweedy slush. Our boots sink into the slimy mess up to our ankles making each step a chore. While we struggle to shore, the existence of fish is confirmed; after dropping us off the crew get a net and go fishing. By the time I return to the Zodiac the crew have caught well over 20 fish, each about a foot long, each the same and going by the local of name of robalo. There will be fresh fish for dinner tonight, and for days to come. The freezer is now well stocked!
