Who says florid beauty has to be limited to petals? The hood (or operculum) of this carnivorous pitcher plant holds its own quite well, I think. You’ll find some in our carnivorous plant collection in the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, but now is the ideal time to see North American species thriving in the Native Plant Garden.
Its common name is “sideoats grama,” because the seeds are aligned on one side of the stalk, and the explorers who first recorded it called it grass, or “grama” in Portuguese. So there you go.
Bouteloua curtipendula — Photo by Ivo M. Vermeulen
The Native Plant Garden impresses me in many ways, but from an ecological stand point, what I see as the most exciting aspect is not what was planted or constructed. It is the birds, insects, reptiles, and amphibians who have decided to take up residency. Where did they come from and why are they here? None were intentionally introduced, but build it (or plant it) and they will come. They are indicator species of the quality of the environment.
Each species has its own story. Hummingbirds are attracted to the stunningly bright red cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis) and bee balm (Monarda sp.), swallowtail butterflies and bees frequent the coastal plain Joe-Pye weed (Eutrochium dubium), etc.
But then there are what I estimate to be over a dozen species of fierce predators that have little interest in the plants except to occasionally perch on them. They are superb flyers, though they are not birds, and, when young, are aquatic without wings. Some are camouflaged, especially the females, while others are brightly colored and highly territorial. All have excellent vision, at least for detecting movement.
Because it’s an absurdly beautiful day, but also a Monday (we’re not open to the public most Mondays—our horticulturists need space and safety to work on weekly sprucing-up), I figured I’d throw together a little teaser for anyone planning to pay us a visit this week. The Native Plant Garden in particular is dancing in the middle distance between wild and dapper, and the effect is one of natural improvisation.
Our NPG horticulturists like to say that the space bleeds from one biome into the next—that plants and colors are painted in swathes and mingle at the edges, dry forest melting into wet forest, meadow phasing into wetland. There’s so much to see growing in the Native Plant Garden in midsummer, and all of it wrapped up together in a subtly but carefully curated space. It’s utopian in the best way.
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The Native Plant Garden is an absolute must-see all year round, but whether or not this picturesque weather keeps up through the rest of the week, it’s still your one-stop shop for peace of mind. That’s what the benches are for, after all.
The come-and-go summer heat may be a bummer for some of us here in the city, but not so in the Native Plant Garden‘s flourishing meadow, where spikes of purple blazing stars and sunflowers of all sorts bask day in, day out with the bees, dragonflies, and birds that come to visit. The effect is one of a brightly-colored painting with a lot of air traffic. But foot traffic is welcome, too! Now is the ideal time to see the Native Plant Garden’s swaying grasses and flowers in peak summer form.
Kevin Character recently stopped in to chat with Kristin Schleiter, our Assistant Vice President for Landscape Gardens and Living Collections, where she got us caught up on the two-year process behind the meadow’s planting—from its start as a meandering collection of scrappy sprouts to the elegant sea of green that it displays today.
While there’s certainly a wild quality to the Native Plant Garden, trust me when I say that everything planted there was carefully chosen to demonstrate local flora, native planting techniques, and a year-round beauty that shines through whether you’re here in July or November. Still, missing the meadow in such rare form would be a shame!
Consider this a fete for hummingbirds. The cardinal flowers are a delicacy to our frazzle-winged friends, and if you’re in the Native Plant Garden while they’re in bloom (i.e. now), you might see a few blurry busybodies zipping to and fro.