This week I received some photos of some mysterious white tubes emerging from a pile of lawn moss. Do you know what they are?
Answer Monday!
This week I received some photos of some mysterious white tubes emerging from a pile of lawn moss. Do you know what they are?
Answer Monday!
Friday’s “evil frog eye” was actually part of a voodoo lily (Dracunculus vulgaris), found growing in a drainage ditch in California (I’ve seen one in a drainage ditch in Seattle as well):
Obviously this introduced garden ornamental has escaped cultivation and is now “going rogue.” Will it become a nuisance weed? Will it displace native species? Should it be banned from sale by nurseries?
Sigh.
Just back from the national OFA Floriculture short course and trade show in Columbus, Ohio. There was quite a buzz (!) over the July cover story of the industry mag GrowerTalks:
Maybe, if there’s a variegated form…
GrowerTalks is NOT High Times. Commercial floriculture is a very, very conservative industry. Many family businesses. New petunia cultivars and seed-sowing technologies are the usual fodder for feature stories. But as a publication reaching out to people who grow plants under glass (or plastic) for a living, GrowerTalks has brought up a good point. As article author Jennifer Zurko points out, there are now 16 states where medical marijuana is legal, and many more have it under consideration. The average margin on wholesale bedding plant production is around 1.3. My guess is marijuana might do a little better than that. “Legal” sales in California are projected at $1.3 billion for this year. The entire U.S. Floriculture industry (wholesale value) is worth $4.3 billion currently.
Floriculturists are the preeminent controlled-environment specialists. Example: a grower takes an Easter Lily through 24 weeks of vernalization and bench production from bulb to buds, maintain a 2.6:1 plant:pot height ratio, and hits what is essentially a 5-day market window that changes yearly. Marijuana would be a comparative walk in the park.
Jennifer does a great job describing the caveats and issues, both technical and moral. Not least of which is that marijuana is, of course, illegal in the eyes of the federal government. But someone’s going to grow it. Heck, Scott’s Miracle Grow is already working on water-soluble fertilizer specific to the crop.
Orchid fanciers Derek and Joseph correctly identified Friday’s mystery plant as a jewel orchid, specifically Macodes petola:
Friday’s sparkly leaf photo shows why “jewel orchid” is the common name used for several genera of orchids with showstopping foliage.
And Ray noted that Goodyera spp. (rattlesnake plantain) is a native US jewel orchid with beautiful variegated foliage. Next time you’re hiking in the woods, keep your eye out for this common yet striking plant.
What am I? (There has been no alteration of this photo, other than cropping, nor was it taken under any special lighting.)
Answer on Monday!
What is it?
Why, that’s a “Mace Sedge” – thus a medieval weapon AND a sedge. Actually…not very menacing. But very cute. Carex grayi is a wonderful clumping sedge, native to Eastern North America. Mine is situated at the edge of a home-made bog, and is at least 2.5′ tall with an upright habit.
More common in the trade are the cascading Asian sedges such as Carex dlichostachy ‘Kaga Nishiki’, C. oshimensis ‘Evergold’, and C. morrowii ‘Variagta’, all fabulous plants for the part-shade garden. My hair has been likened to New Zealand native C. buchananii, the coppery leatherleaf sedge (I took this as a compliment).
The genus is chock full of garden-worthy species, of which the North American natives are finally getting some attention. Folks like grass guru Rick Darke and meadow man John Greenlee have been promoting the heck out of native sedges for both the east and west coasts, respectively. I can’t even remember where I put my mitts on this one, but have been enjoying the heck out of it for the past two years.
I just got back from a 9 hour overseas flight, just in time to post the answer to last week’s quiz. So now you know…I wasn’t in the states. More on that later.
As many of you guessed, this is a fig tree (Ficus spp.) of some sort. I have horrendous taxonomic abilities anyway, but will cover my ignorance with the excuses that the tree wasn’t in flower, nor were there any signs in any of the little parks identifying the tree. So we can continue to speculate on what species this is. I do know it’s quite an old specimen, and that there are some Ficus native to the region, but past that I’m clueless as to whether this really is a native species or not.
And where was this huge tree? In Alicante, Spain, where I spent a few days visiting my daughter who’s studying there this semester. (Non-scientific aside: I would go back there in a heartbeat. If you are looking for a Mediterranean tourist destination that isn’t overrun with Americans, this is the place to go.)
Finally, these cool wavy woody structures are buttress roots, as Jospeh, Shawn, Rotem and Deb all pointed out. They have both a structural and storage function: like all woody roots they store carbohydrates, but the over-developed flare helps support the tree in thin soils (like here) or in wet, low-oxygen soils (like those where mangroves grow). In both cases roots can’t reach far enough below ground to stabilize the trunk, so the buttressing serves that function.
@Rotem also noted that branches can root and support the tree. While the buttress roots in the original photo arose from root tissue, you can see examples of the rooted branches in the photo above.
And I do love the less-than-serious answers some of you kindly provided for our amusement. Fred’s "rumble strips for drunks" was particularly apropos, since my last night there was one big street party after Barcelona beat Manchester United in the Champions League soccer match. My daughter and I ended up in our hotel elevator at 8 am the next morning with a fan with no pants. We did not ask.
Paul, Joseph, Kandi and Derek are all, apparently, Puya fanciers. But! It’s not P. alpestris, but P. berteroana – a species whose flowers are more turquoise than sapphire:
Yeah, Kandi, check out those spines! Even taking pictures is deadly!
And Paul and Joseph were correct – the long green structures are sterile (they bear no flowers) and serve as bird perches. The nectar almost runs out of these flowers, and as the birds get a sugar fix their heads are covered in pollen.
Thanks to Paul Licht, Berkeley Botanical Garden Director, for my short but fabulous tour that included these beauties.
The university’s server was down for scheduled maintenance over the weekend and I missed getting this posted. So you have until next Friday to consider this interesting flower from the Berkeley Botanical Gardens:
What is this plant?
And what is the function of these long, green horizontal structures?
Have fun
Ed and Gayle correctly pointed out that short day plants (those that bloom in the spring or the fall) can sometimes do both. The asters probably experienced some transplant shock in the fall, which would have suspended floral bud development. This phenomenon could also be due to mild winter conditions (as Ed and Gayle also mentioned), which could have spared flower buds normally killed by freezing temperatures.
In any case, as spring daylengths approached those found in the fall, flower development continued and voila! Asters in the spring! Likewise, there are a number of spring bloomers that sometimes have a second (usually reduced) floral display in the fall.
Thanks again to Ginny for sharing her photographs and information!