</p> Just an update: I thought it was finishing (first photo above), this green-blossomed liana of a legume shows that it has the long haul in mind. I've discovered that there are several more inflorescences on the jade vine (Strongylodon macrobotrys</em>) and that you might be able to see it bloom either upstairs or down in the Conservatory. The staff and volunteers at the Information Desk assure me they have people come and ask about the "green flowers" or "every-nine-years vine," so I know people are interested. Just to clarify, it took nine years of growing before it bloomed. Will it bloom next year? We have to wait and see.</p>
</p> Remember that photographic puzzler I posted? Well, yes, the answer seems to have been widely known: the Laura Smith Porter Plains Garden was undergoing its every-few-years renewal burning. The other, exciting picture above captures a bit of the day, and the other shows blackened swaths. The sedate pictures below reveal the exciting success of the burn.</p> </p> See how many new seedlings have started in a month's time? It seems very dramatic even though its entirely natural. Even the soil has faded from the jet black to a more normal dark grey. Come see it firsthand on Earth Day, one of the Gardens' free days this year.</p> By the way, although fire makes for a cool photograph, the Gardens does not recommend that you try this at home. Aside from the permits and permissions that are needed, and aside from the preparation, equipment and extra help that is needed to conduct the burn safely, there are potential negatives. For example, certain invasive weeds love to be burned! Burns can be beneficial, it just takes knowledge, skill and experience to determine what is likely to happen in a landscape.</p>
</p> The jade vine is in full bloom! There are two long, hanging columns of flowers right now, with a few more to go. Green flowers have the reputation of being subtle, but this is really wild! I was up on the mezzanine, and a cluster of garden visitors was exclaiming over it. We agreed that describing them as "green just doesn't really cover it." It is really a tribute to the Conservatory team's perserverence that we have a blooming Strongylodon macrobotrys</em> to show Denver.</p>
</p> We’ve had the poison dart frogs here in the Boettcher Memorial Tropical Conservatory since early November when they were still pretty young. Conservatory staff members have been raising fruit flies, dusting them with vitamins, and feeding them to the frogs every day since then, and we are amazed at how much the frogs have grown.</p> The calling is done by the male frogs, who are trying to impress potential mates with their beautiful trilling song. Our frogs are still less than a year old, so they have at least a year before they are of reproductive age, but we are impressed at this new sign of their healthy development.</p> The frogs are an ongoing exhibit and are here to stay, but are also currently the subject of an animal behavior project for a Metro State student, who spends half an hour at a time watching the frogs and recording their behavior. Otherwise there is no one on staff who has the time to spend patiently waiting for a frog call! We’ll be excited to get further updates on activities in the tank, and we’re hoping to be able to record the frog calls soon. </p>
A recent visit to Melbourne, Australia, inspired countless garden ideas. I am so grateful for this experience, and I’d love to share some of the garden beauty and trends I picked up that can be translated to Colorado gardens. </p> One of my biggest takeaways is that gardens are so diverse! There are many, many styles of gardening, and even more ways to interpret those styles. During my brief visit, I saw naturalistic, Indigenous, formal, boutique and farm styles. I also saw gardens celebrating various Australian landscapes, as well as several categories of show gardens at the Melbourne International Flower and Garden Show</a>. Seeing so many interpretations of “gardening” further solidifies my belief that gardens are deeply personal, artistic spaces. Let this be your reminder to explore your creativity in gardening!</p> Another takeaway is that native plants—often also called Indigenous plants—are trending on the other side of the world as well as here. It seems like this is truly a plant palette of our times. Climate change is pressing on every corner of Earth. The need is present and growing for plants that can withstand the difficulties ahead. Many gardeners seem to be placing their bets on the plants that have been</em> withstanding these difficulties for A LONG TIME. </p> Reconnecting with Indigenous groups and reincorporating their stewardship practices also spans the globe in its relevance. Every region has its own beautiful, place-based Indigenous heritage. Across all boundaries, landscape practitioners have the opportunity and responsibility to celebrate and support Indigenous voices. Here and abroad, this is the right thing to do. Additionally, including Indigenous people into gardening practice immensely enriches land stewardship outcomes.</p> Finally, I observed heavy usage of non-plant elements to give gardens character. Hardscaping, water features and art all enhance a space. Show gardens seemed to take this even further by using props to emulate daily life: cups of tea, books, drying laundry. I took this as a reminder that a garden is a personal space for you</em>. Leave room under the shade tree for a lawn chair. Plant herbs close to your kitchen. Put a bird feeder by the window for easy viewing. You can make your garden a place you want to be, a place that fills what you’re looking for.</p> I can only try to summarize the richness of Melbourne’s gardens in less than 500 words, but I hope you feel inspired to make your space your own, create abundantly, honor the Indigenous peoples and plants where you live, and continue to find joy in gardens aplenty. </p>
Recently, we planted a new addition in the Boettcher Tropical Conservatory, Brugmansia sanguinea</em>, or the ‘red angel’s trumpet.’ This crimson-flowered tree will surely be a treat when in bloom. Brugmansia</em> is a genus of trees and shrubs consisting of only seven species. These pendulous-flowered beauties are members of the Solanaceae family, commonly known as the nightshade or potato family, and this is seen through the flowers. Yes, it is true, that Brugmansias are related to potatoes and tomatoes, although you would not want to eat brugmansia. Many members of the Solanaceae family are toxic and Brugmansia is no exception. Brugmansia sanguinea</em> hails from the Andes and is native from Colombia to Peru and Bolivia. The genus Brugmansia</em> is broken in two sections: section Brugmansia,</em> the warm growing brugmansia, and section Sphaerocarpium</em>, the cool growing brugmansia. B. sanguinea</em> lives up to its classification as a cool-grower, and can withstand short frosts, although it doesn’t like temperatures under 32 degrees Fahrenheit for prolonged amounts of time. Brugmansia trees and shrubs make great houseplants, and many colorful hybrids exist that are readily available through a variety of nurseries. They may be kept in a pot on your porch during the summer and brought in for the winter. If you don’t have anywhere to store the potted plant during the winter months, you may prune it and store it bare-root in a cool, dry place and repot in the spring. This tropical gem is definitely worth a stroll through the Boettcher Tropical Conservatory, even if not in flower, but keep your fingers crossed as it has been putting out more blooms lately. You will find the plant towards the West end of the conservatory just past the pandanus tree. Hope to see you soon! For more information on growing Brugmansia sanguinea</em>, click here to visit the "Strange Wonderful Things" Web site.</p>
Kazakhstan was as cool and rainy as we had been in Colorado last June: a different year we would likely have missed the last peonies, which we caught at their very peak. The picture above was taken in the Kalbinsky Hills, a low range (largely treeless) in the Altai mountains between Ust Kamenogorsk and Katom Karagai--the first being the largest city in the Kazakh Altai region, and the other the largest town in the Altai uplands. Our driver screeched to a halt when we all called out at the first red flash: the flowers really are like flags out there--some of them surely 6" across. The foliage seemed to be more deeply cut than the Paeonia anomala</em> at the gardens, although much coarser than the threadleaf, or fernleaf peony of the West Asian steppe (Paeonia tenuifolia</em>). Over the next ten days we saw this peony everywhere, at higher and higher altitudes. The picture below was taken not far below treeline on Burkhat Pass, above the spa called Rakhmanovsky Springs. What this picture doesn't really convey is how massive this clump is: easily four feet across and almost a yard tall: much bigger than any Paeonia anomala</em> I have seen in cultivation. I suspect the Altai race may not be in cultivation. Here and there at the lower elevations we found a much tinier peony with distinctive calyces that had long since finished blooming. This is Paeonia hybrida</em>, a species that may not be in cultivation. We only found a few with faded flowers remaining: in the picture it look similar to anomala</em>, but don't be fooled. This is a very different plant, which fortunately bore great quantities of ripe seed. Ah! the joys of plant exploration. They warm heart in winter, even though in fact they can be exhausting and frustrating at the time. </p>
Winter is my least favorite season, no doubt about it. The coldest season does have a few perks, it is really the only time when gardeners can catch their breath and truly enjoy the garden for what it is. Every other season brings innumerable tasks, from planting to weeding, cutting back and watering there is always something that needs immediate attention. In winter one can enjoy the purest structure of the garden, deciduous trees are reduced to enticing branch patterns, evergreens: coniferous, broadleaf and herbaceous take center stage with so few flowers to compete against. The conifers become especially lovely with a dusting of light snow on a brilliant sunny day. Agaves, Yuccas, and Nolina prove just how garden worthy they are in accommodating climates with their highly sculpted forms. Lastly winter is a time to reflect back on the successes and failures of the past gardening season and to look ahead to the possibilities of the coming growing season.</p>
Christmas rose, or Helleborus niger</em>, was hidden at the bottom of my last blog and didn't get just attention. Christmas rose is often cited as the actual "rose" that inspired the German Christmas carol 'Es ist ein Ros entsprungen' or translated into the English Christmas song ' Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming.' Whether or not it is the actual flower mentioned in the song, it doesn't take a horticulturist to tell you that there is not much blooming outside the Boettcher Memorial Tropical Conservatory these days at Denver Botanic Gardens. Helleborus </em>however are one genus that brighten the coldest and shortest days of the year. While most species and hybrids wait until at least February to bloom in Denver, certain clones and strains of Helleborus niger</em> can start as early as Thanksgiving some years. The particular clone in the photo above always blooms a good month before its fellow members elsewhere in the Gardens.</p>
