Nearly ten years ago the seeds for a remarkable garden were planted when Wellington and Wilma Webb visited Versailles. They wanted a dramatic garden near the entrance of the city instead of the industrial wasteland of the Platte Valley. Centennial Park [located at the northeast side of Elitch Gardens, just off 15th and Little Raven] was created as a fulfillment of the Webb's dream, and I was one of the team from Denver Botanic Gardens who helped design and create this garden. The clock fast forwards a decade: Denver Botanic Gardens is no longer involved with the maintenance or planning here. But I believe Centennial has more than achieved its dream. There are incredible hedges of native shrubs that only need to be trimmed once a year since they are kept dry and do not flush repeatedly as privet would do. There are masses of perennials in season, and some novel plantings unlike anything else in the City. I am especially amazed to see how beautiful the buffalo grass (Buchloe dactyloides</em>) has performed. It is trim and neat year 'round, and never more beautiful than right now filled with these robust spring crocuses. There are autumn crocuses in it as well in September and October. I can't tell you how good these looked! Imagine in a few years when they seed around!</p> </p> Every collaboration I have had with Denver Parks and Recreation over the years has impressed me with the dedication, diligence and intelligence this department brings to the table (and to the landscape). I do not think we as Denver area citizens sufficiently appreciate the work of our public servants--especially parks workers. I want to congratulate Denver Parks and Recreation who have done a terrific job in keeping it trim and looking good despite the enormous budget challenges they face, and the problematical nature of this garden and its setting. I hope this will not be a secret garden for long!</p>
</p> Catalogs call them "minor bulbs"--those little gems that brighten up our gardens in late winter. I am frankly astounded that you see so few of these in Denver gardens (or anywhere in the Rocky Mountain region). For any number of geobotanical reasons, there are only a very small number of early spring ephemerals in our native flora. But the Mediterranean region and Central Asia teem with extraordinary flowers that bloom as snows melt. These seem to grow here with real gusto. Crocuses, snowdrops, Cyclamen coum</em> and reticulate irises are all winter's jewels or else spring's earliest heralds. And there are many more as well, but the tiny grape hyacinth, Muscari azureum</em>, holds a special place in my affections. </p> Mention grape hyacinth, and many gardeners groan: the commonly grown Muscari armeniacum</em> or M. neglectum</em> thrive here all right: they can be downright pesky in the garden, producing vast sheaths of messy foliage in fall that singes by spring and doesn't quite justify their gloomy purple blue clusters that come a little too late (when everything else is blooming too).</p> There are a number of equally prolific grape hyacinths with more winning traits, and the first of these is this tiny blue marvel that usually opens its first blossoms at ground level in February. March, however, is its time of glory: right now the dry borders in my garden have wide swaths of azure blue, like the little pool of color you can see below.</p> </dt> Muscari azureum</dd> </dl> It is prolific, but please don't summon the invasive police! In this case, one can never seem to have enough of this good thing. It sprinkles my borders, my rock garden, it seems to pop up somewhere new every year. Of course, I have been known to gather its seeds in May and scatter them around rather enthusiastically. This little gem is above ground only a few weeks, and at the time of year our gardens are their most austere and need that little extra kick. And tiny though it is, its piercing blue is welcome. I first came to know this plant in the garden of the late T. Paul Maslin, an eminent biologist who taught at the University of Colorado in Boulder. Paul passed away in 1984. He was my near neighbor growing up with the most beautiful garden in Boulder (maybe in the state). He became my mentor and best friend. He loved this bulb (then known as Hyacinthus azureus</em>) which grew everywhere in his garden too. In fact, my plants trace their origins to Paul. In the later 20th century, Botanists called this bulb Hyacinthella azurea</em>, so the Latin specific epithet has progressed from masculine to feminine and is now neuter! No matter what it's name or sex may be, this is a bulb I wouldn't want to live without. Every day in March I go out and admire it here and there, and think of the vast swaths of Anatolia that it graces in nature (where, no doubt, some of my ancestors a millenium ago admired it too), and of my wonderful friend, Paul. I look forward to the day it carpets much of my half acre with azure scatterugs of sparkling blue. One could have much worse predilections, I'm sure you would agree!</p>
Hello Friends! What a wonderful winter I had snuggled up in the Mordecai Children’s Garden waiting for the first signs of spring. I knew it was time to come out of hibernation when I felt the warm sunshine and saw little flowers popping up by Pipsqueak Pond! I am excited that my friends will be visiting the Children’s Garden again this weekend. When you stop by the Children’s Garden make sure to keep an eye out for the little signs that spring is right around the corner. The Children’s Garden is amazing this time of year. Every day I discover a new bud ready to bloom, birds getting ready to make nests, and new sprouting green leaves. The Children's Garden is open today for members only, and tomorrow to everyone.</strong> Stop by this weekend and enjoy your favorite Children’s Garden activities. Build homes for my mountain friends on top of Marmot Mountain, dig for gold in the Mist-ery Forest, and race pinecones down Springmelt Stream. You will even discover new fun in the Children’s Garden! Stop by the Morrison Discovery Greenhouse and discover some of my favorite plants with your five senses. Don’t forget to check out the future home of the Home Harvest Garden where you will have the opportunity to help tend to my vegetable garden and even sample some of my favorite garden treats! Hope to see you soon! Your Friend, Digger</p>
Patzcuaro is known for its mask making artistry. Masks are used in various festivities such as the Night of the Dead, Festivity of the Virgin of La Salud and Dance of the Little Old Men. Before we leave for Uruapan, we start the day with a visit to a local mask maker, Filipe Horta. Considered to be one of the eminent mask makers in Mexico, Filipe Horta has won numerous prizes and is commissioned by various villages to make their festive masks. To view his work, visit his website. After spending some time with Filipe, we drive to Uruapan, which is approximately a 2-hour drive. Uruapan is known as the avocado capital of the world. Throughout the drive we see numerous avocado plantations on the way. In town we are welcomed by a representative of the Ministry of Tourism who has arranged a special tour of a local avocado farm. A local avocado expert gives us a talk about the local avocado industry and farming practices. Lunch has been arranged at the farm and the food prepared by local Purepechas women. We are treated to fresh guacamole, hot blue corn tortillas made right in front of us, beans, and a squash dessert in addition to other treats. As we leave for Morelia to fly back to Denver, we are all grateful for this rich experience in culture and natural heritage.</p>
Patzcuaro was an important ceremonial center of the indigenous Purepechas people during the pre-Hispanic period. We stay in the heart of this beautiful town close to the two main plaza squares. In the morning we take a boat from the pier to Janitzio Island. The Patzcuaro Lake in known for its white fish and we see fishermen using their traditional butterfly nets for fishing. The island of Janitzio consists of terraced housing packed along the hillside and has a population of about 3,000 people. At the top of the hill is the statue of José Maria Morelos, a leader of Mexican independence. Within the statue are paintings by Ramon Alba de la Canal and other great Mexican muralists that recreate the life of Morelos. Next stop is a copper artisan’s workshop in the town of Santa Clara del Corbe. The copper workmanship is amazing and on either sides of the street are numerous stores selling copper pots, pans, jewelry and other art work.</p>
After visiting the Sierra Chincua Monarch Sanctuary, we spend the night at the village of Angangueo. A booming mining town at one time, Angangueo is located at an altitude of about 8,400 ft. Around this same time last year, this village was devastated by heavy rains and accompanying mud slides, which closed the whole village for several days causing economic hardship to the local folks dependent of tourists visiting Monarch butterfly sanctuaries. Remnants of the damage cause by the mudslide are still visible. On this third day, we leave early to the El Rosario Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary, which is about an hour’s drive from town. A major portion of the road to the sanctuary is unpaved and hence we are transported to the site on a pick-up truck. A major portion of the hike through the forest has paved steps, followed by well maintained dirt trails. Compared to Sierra Chincua, the forest in El Rosario has much denser understory vegetation dominated by plants in the Asteraceae and Lamiaceae families, all providing nectar for the active butterflies. An hour’s hike takes us to our destination where the Monarch butterflies are congregating, at an altitude of about 11,000 ft. The millions of hibernating butterflies are slowly waking up with the rise in temperature. Many trees are completely covered in butterflies, with many branches drooping down with the weight of the butterflies. These butterflies will soon be getting ready to start their migration back north in search of milkweed plants to lay their eggs. We see a few mating pairs. Before long, by early-mid March, all these butterflies will be gone, renewing their life cycle with a new generation. We spend an hour at the site just watching these butterflies and marveling at this remarkable natural phenomenon. After two incredible days of viewing the Monarch butterflies, we continue on with our trip and head towards Patzcuaro.</p>
As this popular trip offered by Denver Botanic Gardens and Reefs to Rockies returns this year, I am pleased to lead this trip again. Joining me are seven enthusiastic patrons of the Gardens and nature lovers. What is a trip without any travel glitches? Icy conditions in Houston, cancelled flights, delayed and missed flights….these were some of the few glitches we experienced, but everyone got to Morelia on time and with good humor. And so our first scheduled day of the trip starts without a hitch! Morelia, a UNESCO World Heritage Site is the capital of the state of Michoacán in central Mexico. Located in the Guayangareo Valley, this is home to the indigenous Purhepecha peoples. Named in honor of José María Morelos y Pavón, a revolutionary rebel leader of the Mexican War of Independence, the heart of the city is dominated by colonial buildings including numerous churches and the impressive Cathedral of the Devine Savior of Morelia. Another prominent architectural feature of the city is the aqueduct. We start our day with a walk from our hotel to the Museo del Dulche (Candy Museum). This museum was created to preserve the candy making history of the local people. We are greeted by staff dressed in vintage costumes dating back to the 1900s and are given a demonstration of the candy making process, with some sampling. We have an opportunity to purchase candies from the museum store. After visiting a local handicrafts store we have an authentic lunch of regional flavor at a local restaurant. A trolley picks us up to take us on a tour of the city where all the important landmarks are pointed out. The highlight of the tour is the Sanctuary of Guadalupe, where the church decoration is influenced by Mexican artistry rather than Spanish. As we wind down this day, we all look forward to what is to come tomorrow, a visit to one of the Monarch butterfly wintering sites!</p>
Sometimes we have plants growing in our garden collections that aren't quite who we thought they were. Usually when we receive a new accession into the living collections, we have information of what the name of the plant is, where it came from (nursery or collection site in nature) and if it is a seed, cutting or plant. Fortunately, 99.9% of the time, the listed name is correct. Unfortunately this 0.1% can create a plant "identity crisis" for us! Recently this occurred for a tree growing in the Boettcher Memorial Tropical Conservatory. It had been labeled as Garcinia mangostana</em> (mangosteen, a tropical fruiting tree) and in the 8 years that I walked past the tree, mapped it, photographed it in flower and wondered if it would ever fruit, I took it for granted that it was, in fact, Garcinia mangostana</em>. A researcher from Kew Gardens in England contacted me to learn more about the G. mangostana</em> and how it was doing in our conservatory. I proclaimed that it was healthy, about 20 feet tall and had flowered but never fruited. The researcher's excitement at this communication made me wonder what was so special about this plant which I then Googled, took one look at the pictures of the flowers and said "Oh no!" You see, the images were of medium-sized pale pink flowers and our plant's flowers are extremely white and miniscule in size. So this is when the fun really begins to find the true identity of an unknown plant. I looked up all the inf0rmation I could find about the accession, including the nursery we originally received the plant from. I checked out their online catalog to see which plants they carry that could match our unknown plant. I also e-mailed that nursery and attached a digital image of our tree in flower to see if I could get any further information. But I didn't hear back from them. During this time I continued to communicate with the researcher, sharing information about the leaf size and shape, bark coloration and any other details I could discern from our currently non-blooming plant. I sent additional images as well. I also took a leaf and stem sample to see if there was any latex in the plant, and if so, what color it was. (It was white.) While waiting for information from her and the herbarium at Kew, I continued to research this plant too. My first searches in the Helen Fowler Library yielded no help as I didn't know where this tree might be native to. I was limited to titles like Tropical Trees, Tropical Ornamentals and Identification of tropical woody plants in the absence of flowers and fruits. All of these references might have been handy, just not for this particular mystery plant. Part of the mystery was also verifying that this plant was even still in the same genus or family as the original identity suggested. To do this, I skimmed through Flowering Plants of the World by V.H. Heywood to see what other possible families it might belong to including the Clusiaceae family that was its original identity. My list included about 10 families, including Clusiaceae, that have opposite leaves, latex, lack stipules on the leaves and include woody plants. As a starting point to my research, I decided to look at what plants in Clusiaceae, starting with the genus Garcinia, </em>are in other botanic gardens since chances were good that this was not the most uncommon plant in the world, just rather uncommon in Denver. A Web search of a collections sharing site yielded four species in cultivation. Garcinia acuminata</em>, G. brasiliensis</em> and G. tinctoria</em> at The New York Botanical Garden and G. spicata</em> at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh. Edinburgh also yielded a long list of herbarium specimens from tropical Asia. I decided to start my search with G. spicata</em>, just by chance, and the first image that I saw that was not of a fruit, was an amazing match to our unknown plant. The challenge though was that the Web page I was directed to was in Chinese and I never have quite trusted the Google translate tool to be 100% correct, so I was left questioning if the image was really for the species I had queried. So where to from here??? My next search was to determine where this species was native to in hopes of finding a key to help me verify a match. For this search I went to a couple of handy online databases that we commonly use to track plant names in our local database, GRIN Taxonomy and Tropicos. Through these sites I learned that the species is native to Sri Lanka and India, so it was back to the library for me. My initial search in the electronic card catalog taught me that Sri Lanka was once known as Ceylon and from this information I found A Handbook to the Flora of Ceylon and in it a description of G. spicata</em>. From the image you might notice that there are almost handlike structures that are the stamens (the male part). The description from the flora of this structure was the key to this identification,</p> "Stamens combined into 5 erect, spathulate bundles of 8-10 each."</p> Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! Armed with this information, I contacted Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden with a description of our plant and an image of the flower. The curator of tropical fruit, Richard Campbell, confirmed that yes, it was indeed a match to their G. spicata</em> plants. Mystery solved. To follow up on this new information, the proper name was recorded in our database for this plant and a new label will be ordered for it this spring.</p> And now I can continue on to find the next mystery plant's true identity.</p>
This past fall (as if overnight) a conflagration of spectacular red trees glowed for weeks all over Denver...friends and members of the Gardens would ask me what are</strong> those fabulous maples? They are very appropriately named 'Autumn Blaze', a hybrid of silver maple (Acer saccharinum</em>) and red maple (Acer rubrum</em>), combining the spectacular fall color of the latter with the adaptability and vigor of the first. With perhaps a little added hybrid vigor tossed in as well. Considering the plant was only introduced into cultivation in 1980, its ubiquity and abundance in cities across America is sobering. Tree experts are concerned that as these mature they are apt to develop the same breakage problems as the parents (possibly more due to rapid growth), and likewise share the sensitivity to alkaline soil that often turn both parents chlorotic in midsummer. Everyone wants a tree that grows super fast, forgetting that this often means the same tree can grow massive in short order, and is often prone to spectacular and expensive breakage. No one really knows how big 'Autumn Blaze' will grow in Colorado, nor really how brittle it will truly be in old age. Perhaps this is a plant best enjoyed in your neighbor's</strong></em> garden? What an amazing impact, however, the bright red has all over our region, especially combined with the brilliant purple tones of 'Autumn Purple' ash (Fraxinus americana</em>): they have done much to enrich the color palette of our predominately yellow fall color. The ash, however, also needs lots of water to do well and has a host of present and potential pest problems! Coloradoans like to think every tree is wonderful on our windy steppe. I caution friends to stick with tried and true trees in their own gardens. There is a whole list of Index expuragoria</em> when it comes to some arborists: either they are excessively prone to disease and pests, or subject to breakage or too water demanding. I shall take a look at several of these naughty trees...but it is good to remember that if a tree may not be ideal in your garden, it doesn't mean that it would not be suitable in a park or other large site. I for one delight in the spectacle that 'Autumn Blaze' has brought to our city. But you will not see one in my garden!</p>
You would have to be a very strange individual to drive down York street on a sunny morning any time this winter and not notice (or really be stunned) by this amazing planting of little bluestem on the 'West wedge' of the new parking structure.I am not big on formal bedding (by and large) - check out the big bluestem at the bottom of this blog and you will see what suits my taste more - but I'll make an exception for this delightful concatenation. Just like ruddy soldiers, the bluestems are neatly aligned with the morning sun burnishing their symmetrical rosiness! Let's take a closer look... This is a clump of bluestem I photographed closer up last year at the Pueblo Nature Center. If you examine bluestems closely in nature (they are abundant around Denver in the fragments of nature still left) you will find a great deal of variation. Most of the cultivated forms turn a brilliant pink in autumn that lingers through the winter and is positively dazzling in the right backlight. Shopping centers are chockablock full of Calamagrostis</em> 'Karl Foerster' which legions of landscapers are busy cropping down to crew cuts as we speak. I have railed against this abomination before. I would be thrilled if they would replace all those tedious Foerster grasses with this infinitely lovelier native that would not even need to be irrigated! Now let's take a gander at its taller cousin... I took this picture recently in the Ponderosa Border, the easternmost panel of the Western Panoramas--those four magnificent gardens that flank the amphitheater. Casual concert-goers and visitors with an untrained eye walk by these not realizing that these four gardens adumbrate our natural environment as subtly and profoundly as Bach's Brandenberg concertos celebrate the life force! Our masterful Assistant Director of Horticulture, Dan Johnson, designed these four season gardens almost a decade ago, each panel being a symphonic tribute to an ecosystem in Colorado. The Ponderosa Border celebrates the foothills, and big bluestem is indeed found occasionally on the piedmont mesas near us. Usually at least twice the height of little bluestem, this gorgeous giant of a grass can grow five feet tall with a bit of water (or even taller on the tallgrass prairies of the Midwest where it is a major constituent). It may not overwhelm or kick you in the eye like a scarlet geranium or azalea in full bloom, but the graceful fountain of rosy purple is thoroughly dramatic for those more in tune with nature's rhythms. These two magnificent native grasses give me a thrill whenever I walk by. You can have your electronic gadgets, your television and mass culture. Give me a gentle breeze, a bluestem (either one) and a kiss of the Colorado winter sun and I'm a happy camper!</p>
</p> These pictures were all taken exactly one month ago: most years we have a dusting of snow by early October, and light frosts, but this amazing year the autumn wore on and on. But by Thanksgiving, winter rules the roost. Each year I am astonished at how utterly the landscape transforms with the first hard frosts: one day things look almost summery, with fuchsias dangling in the gentle breeze, annuals in prime form and blazing fall color everywhere. Abruptly, the leaves fall, the tender plants are crisped and hardy plants hunker down.</p> </dt> Cardoon and giant Castor beans</dd> </dl> In the sere winter months (which have their own austere beauty, I admit), we forget how lush things were just yesterday: the giant Cardoons spreading almost six feet across, and towering Castor beans (great crowd pleasers) along the Drop Dead Red border. Francois Villon asked "Where are the snows of yesteryear?" Well, others pine for verdure and the lolling luxury of summer.</p> </dt> South African Succulents in autumn glory</dd> </dl> All summer long the containers throughout the gardens did their duty. I particularly admire the wonderful succulent containers in the South African plaza: but a single flower of Pelargonium just off center, but such richness of color and texture in stems and chubby leaves. No doubt these are tucked away safely in a glasshouse, waiting to come out again next spring. But it takes the intense summer sun and brash winds to bring out these colors in the out of doors. I love how in this picture we have the intricate vignette of container in the foreground, but a vista of intriguing mystery beyond. This interplay of vista and vignette is really the secret to the magic of Denver Botanic Gardens! In my opinion, nobody does it better than our talented horticulturists! We can all get all excited about winter bark, branches and berries, but it's fun to take a longing, lingering look back at a really awesome growing season! And now let's dream about the one to come!</p>
