WHO? White House Organics, That's W.H.O.

Eat the view! Buy virtual pieces of the White House lawn! Roger the Gardener vs. Joe the Plumber! And now The Who Farm!

Introducing Daniel Bowman Simon and Casey Gustowarow, primary "WhoFarmers", two guys who are joining others in petitioning the White House to use some of its vast waste of a lawn to grow organic food.

Their petition is full of heartfelt recommendations to the Farmer In Chief-elect:

We, the people, respectfully request that an organic farm be planted on the grounds of The White House, at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, Washington, DC.

The White House Organic Farm (aka TheWhoFarm) will be a model for healthy, economical and sustainable living everywhere. It will serve as an educational tool and economic aid, and as a means to provide food security in the Nation's Capitol. It will reconnect the Office of the Presidency to the self-sufficient agricultural roots of America's Founding Fathers.

The White House Organic Farm Recipe

Article I: The Farmers
Public school children and Americans with disabilities will work The White House Organic Farm, to set an example for the world of hands-on learning and will foster an independent, do-it-yourself work ethic.

Article II: The Eaters
The White House Organic Farm's harvest will provide fresh food for the President, the President's family, and the President's distinguished guests. Just as importantly, it will also supply healthy food to public school lunch programs and food pantries in Washington, DC.

Article III: The Delivery
Food from The White House Organic Farm will be delivered to local public schools and food pantries by volunteers on foot and by bicycle, at a net-zero cost to U.S. taxpayers.

Article IV: The Seeds
The White House organic farmers will plant a diverse mix of heirloom seeds passed down from Thomas Jefferson's farm at Monticello and seeds donated by American farmers and gardeners, to celebrate both the rich agricultural traditions of the Office of the President and the passions of everyday Americans for working her fertile and bountiful land.

Article V: The Soil
The White House Organic Farm will use healthy topsoil, nourished by compost supplements from yard and food waste from all three branches of the federal government; from The White House, from The United States Capitol, and from The United States Supreme Court.

11:12 AM ET | 11-20-2008 | permalink

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Winter Dip Into Our Flickr Pool

A quick peek at what's going on these day on our Talking Plants Flickr group. The conversation went like this:

jesse.sexton: Cool shot, is this some variety of post processing or did you use radial blur or even a lens baby? Either way, very pretty.

pathos3: Thanks Jesse. Radial blur, b/w conversion, and sepia toning.

Why not put your body (of work, anyway) in our pool; join the party.

9:30 AM ET | 11-18-2008 | permalink

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Great American Garden Survives Santa Barbara Fires

When the Santa Barbara fire began last week in the community of Montecito, I thought of two people: T.C.Boyle and Ganna Walska.

I haven't contacted the author to see if his Wright-designed home suffered damage-- if it has, the last thing he needs is unsolicited e-mail -- but I do know he's spent the last decade not only churning out literature but pulling out weeds and establishing natives in his meandering woodland garden.

Eight years and a few lifetimes ago, I spent some seriously eye-opening time with Boyle. Step right up for a private radio tour of his place as heard on Morning Edition.

The Montecito garden I was really worried about is nothing less than my favorite private garden in the country, Lotusland, once the home and still the work of the flamboyant Ganna Walska, a woman whose greatest creation was undoubtedly her very self. I'm delighted and relieved to report that Lotusland was untouched by the fire.

Lotusland doesn't actually get its name from the plant but from an evocative piece of music Madam Walska was particularly fond of written by the English composer, Cyril Scott (WRONG! See correction at end of story). You gotta hear it. Here it is as originally intended for piano (can anyone figure out who's performing?) and again as played by the great Fritz Kreisler who transcribed it for violin and piano. Shoot me but I like it best for solo piano.

With all due modesty, I'd be delighted if you'd give a listen to this story about Ganna Walska. Not only was she quite a character, but her dramatic flair and idiosyncratic tastes have resulted in one of the most magical gardens I expect I'll ever know.

CORRECTION! Had I gone back and listened to my own story, rather than conjur it up from memory, I would have heard this:

Lotusland, one women's botanical fantasy, may be the most exotic public garden in the country. There's a chance you might even get to see it, should you make a reservation a year or two in advance. The place will leave you breathless--writhing aloes, ferns like fountains, valleys of prehistoric plants. Lotusland's Virginia Hayes likes to linger in the garden that gives the place its name.

Thanks to Virginia Hayes for alerting me that the Lotusland community was about to bust a pod and revoke my open invitation to heaven...

1:41 PM ET | 11-17-2008 | permalink

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Welcome To Candyland: Portland's Platt Garden

Maples, rhododendron, stewartia and fall crocus; tree bark backlit by warm, benevolent light. When last we visited the Platt Garden, my favorite of the plant meccas in this gardenesque town, even its often modest vine maple was feeling very fall.

Go ahead, pinch yourself. It won't change a thing. Life in this landscape is merrily but a dream.

Among the genera championed by the late Jane Platt -- a tradition continued by the very present David Platt -- is the misunderstood rhododendron, a plant that is so much more than the average American landscape would lead you to believe. Admittedly, we're able to grow a huge variety of the shrubs in the PNW that might not thrive elsewhere, but my guess is there are still quite a number of the straight species rhodies worth a shot. (Straight species refers to plants as they appear in the wild, before they've been hybridized and "improved".)

What all the Platt gardeners know -- there are three generations plus a Buddha-like one year old -- is that leaves can be just as astonishing as flowers. And while the garden does have ample rhodie flowers each spring, the best rhododendron foliage holds its ornamental own year-round.

Many of us gardeners are collectors; I've got a couple of nice species rhodies myself. But the genius of the Platt Garden is the placement of its specimens with an eye towards the combination of texture, color and size.

Sounds like a simple formula but if you're a gardener you know how easy it is to get it not quite right (I don't believe any attempt in your own garden is wrong). If you're like me, you just let the plants do the talking and hope the conversation's interesting but in a garden this large you're talking cacophony if the leafy choir isn't in synch.

Speaking of tapestries, you don't need a whole lot of material to create one. Not if you know how to play with plants.

With any luck, we'll hear from one of the Platts shortly, if only to tell me that I've gotten a plant i.d. wrong. Kailla, Buddha-mother? David, slave to Flora? Hope you guys'll stop by!

11:41 AM ET | 11- 7-2008 | permalink

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An Autumnal Peek At A Great American Garden

The campaign promises are over; now to deliver the sublime, as we throw open the gates of a private Portland garden on the headiest day of American democracy we are ever likely to know.

The Platt Garden owes a great deal of its design beauty and plant palette to another of Portland's best places for plant nerds, The Gardens of Elk Rock at Bishop's Close. The plant passions of that garden's founder, Peter Kerr -- who scored plants regularly from the East Coast and England -- have resulted in a number of tree and shrub species that are the oldest of their kind in the PNW. Kerr had two daughters, both of whom gardened. The younger one was named Jane.

One more teaser pix before the tour continues tomorrow. It's an image you've likely seen in one form or another before, because when it comes to pure sensuality, few things can beat a stewartia shedding its bark.

11:14 PM ET | 11- 5-2008 | permalink

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Wonder What To Do With Your Fab Fall Photos?

If you're new to Talking Plants you may not know about our photo community. Given some of the stunning shots showing up there today, I wanted to be sure you take a look and consider delighting us with some of your own stolen moments from this 2008 fall.

Given what else this season has brought us, I suspect you'll find our photo album a very safe haven -- and there can never been too many of them.

The majority of our group is enamoured with macro shots, and having tried a number of my own I know there's more to it than hitting the old "macro" button and hoping for the best. I find I have better luck with the big picture, which of late has been fairly mindblowing as I continue to hike my favorite (nearby) places on the planet.

I'm going to give the last word to Aleth for capturing a moment we've all stumbled into but perhaps have never fully seen.

10:42 AM ET | 10-20-2008 | permalink

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Look What's Rocking At Versailles

I was driving through the slate gray gloom of fall this morning tuned -- bien sur (accent aigu, oui?) -- to Morning Edition, when I heard Eleanor Beardsley's story, King of Kitsch Takes Over Versailles.

Hearing the outspoken French thrash and gnaw at the current Jeff Koons retrospective was plenty amusing, just the kind of audacious controversy the Sun King Louis XIV might have enjoyed. As he also might have delighted in Koons' whacko floral fantasy, Split Rocker.

Split Rocker in its original form was first unveiled in 2000 at the Palais des Papes cloister in Avignon, France. As described in Art in America, it represents "the head of a child's rocking toy--half pony, half dinosaur--with large yellow "handles" protruding from each side".

As described by Koons, "I thought this is the type of work that Louix XIV would wake up and have a fantasy that he'd want to see. And he'd tell his staff and Voila! he'd come home and there would be Split Rocker".

Which explains why no one's been tending my autumnal garden. I forgot to tell the staff...

1:21 PM ET | 10- 8-2008 | permalink

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Lady Bird Would Roll In Her Grave

Believe me, I do not invoke the name of the great lady lightly. But Lady Bird Johnson -- the woman behind the Highway Beautification Act of 1965 -- would no doubt consider it the saddest of days if she'd seen these two innocent words married into one terrifying phrase:

VEGETATIVE ADVERTISING.

I just saw it for the first time at The Human Flower Project, an excellent source of human/horticultural tidbits, in a blog entry titled That's No Garden, It's A Billboard. The subject is the easing of highway landscape restrictions that could allow corporate logos to be spelled out in plants. "If a company pays enough, California drivers could be whizzing by flowering signage."

Ponder this composite pix by Christopher Flynn and you'll see why vegetative advertising is a phrase to be feared.

One of the best places to keep track of this story is at Scenic America. To get up to speed, here's some background. And if you're somehow involved or can offer us some insight, do post...

11:00 PM ET | 10- 5-2008 | permalink

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300 Downed Trees And Counting

The good news is that all of the Houston Arboretum's staff is safe and sound after Hurricane Ike. The inspiring news is that volunteers armed with gloves, tools and tons of good will are helping clean up debris.

Which leaves us with the somewhat sad news that lots and lots of big oaks have bit the dust along the Houston Arboretum's Alice Brown Trail.

The Arboretum is a 155 acre sanctuary native forest where hummingbirds are feeding and birds once again singing after the storm. But the hiking trails are still unpassable. If you're in the neighborhood and would like to help out, contact Lori Hutson.

9:55 AM ET | 09-18-2008 | permalink

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A Rainforest Still Grows In Galveston

Several days after Hurricane Ike hit the greater Houston area, communication still remains spotty with Galveston. I did try to contact the folks at Moody Gardens to see whether their Rainforest Pyramid sustained damage; inside is a collection of some 2,000 plant species plus 175 animal species and pools of fresh water fish.

Jerri Hamachek is a spokesperson from Moody, currently in NY. She told me that despite the catastrophic hurricane, "we've been pretty fortunate. I've seen photos of the Rainforest Pyramid and there's some glass breakage but it didn't collapse. And there's been no breach of our 1.5 million gallon aquarium." That would have been disastrous.

What does concern Hamacheck are the indoor pools of fresh water fish, particularly whether there was enough flooding to have stranded them outside their pools. I haven't heard anything further about that. The few staff members still on site have enough on their hands -- particularly with all those free-range parrots -- without me pestering them for news of kalanchoe and koi.

11:17 AM ET | 09-15-2008 | permalink

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Cat, Roof, Neighbor, Ladder, Labor Day

It's 5:30 am Labor Day morning and I hear Lulah crying. Which is odd, because I let her out at 4:30am and left the door open for her return. The crying continues so I get out of bed and check all exits/entrances. No Lulah, more crying. It takes me a few minutes, but finally I find her.

Now it's 6:00 am and I take out my only ladder. It's completely inadequate, i.e., total crap. I briefly consider getting out on the ledge below the roof to keep Lulah company, but having recently fallen down my own back stairs only to land on the basement concrete floor, I reluctantly forgo the risk.

I decide to e-mail my neighbor Paul, an early-waking walker who, like me, is often online. Never have I been more grateful for the invention of the Blackberry. Paul gets my message and goes into action.

Lulah, bless her, stays put while we prepare for her rescue. For a moment I think she looks amused, but she's not that cerebral. Certainly she's stopped mewing and is no longer pacing in distress.

9:28 AM ET | 09- 1-2008 | permalink

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Xeriscaping Still Gets Bad Rap

Yet again, the art of landscaping with minimal watering takes a hit. In a lushly photographed New York Times article with the yummy title, A Sustainability That Aims To Seduce, author Stephen Orr paraphrases (note emphasis) a few landscape architects as suggesting that xeriscaping can result in "dusty summer yards full of scrappy native species".

I'm not bashing the landscape architects or Orr, per se. The article's thesis is that even people who can afford hiring landscape architects are increasingly environmentally sensitive, and even landscape architects (long-maligned for their lack of expertise/imagination in using plants) are integrating xeric principles and celebration of place into their designs.

What gets me is the lack of acknowledgement that the days of "scrappy native species" are also over. These days, people who love plants and live in hot, dry areas now have unbelievable choices. It's a revolution in gardenworthy species that began in New Mexico with David Salman's High Country Gardeners, and continues around the country and the world.

It's a solid-enough article for the NYT, but if you're not among the privileged and the monied -- who often seem to lack the great, good sense that they have to share the planet -- this last quote may stick in your throat.

... the message of conservation and environmental responsibility cannot be couched in punitive terms if it is to succeed. "People shouldn't have to make a choice between beauty and sustainability," Ms. Cochran said. "Our work is designed so that I am able to say to our clients during a presentation, 'Oh, and by the way, its also sustainable.' "

11:25 AM ET | 08-21-2008 | permalink

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Mr. American Horticulture Redux

Before I overwhelm you with the deep purple and mandarin orange of the promised bromeliad in Dan Hinkley's garden, let me show you how he uses more accessible plants in show-stopping ways.

While we're looking at spikey foliage, get a gander of this seemingly simple moment, which in fact is a complex combo of color, size and shape. And genera, of course, but in any DJH garden, that is the name of the game. His plants are far from merely decorative; each tells a story from his incredibly rich and adventurous life (despite the fact that he claims he'd rather be home with Robert and the dogs. Ha!).

ALRIGHT! No more dawdling. Here is the plant that stole my heart during my unreasonably brief visit to the maestro's garden in Indianola, Wash.: Dyckia 'Cherry Coke'.

I better get this thing posted so all I've left to say is thank you, Mr. Hinkley, for setting the bar so ridiculously high, that I need never worry about being worthy. I am but a humble worm.

2:19 PM ET | 08-12-2008 | permalink

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Mr. American Horticulture

No doubt there are a whole lot of crowns he'd rather wear -- a whole lot of sequined costumes, too -- but once you've won most of the awards in your field plus won over all the people, not one of whom (damn it all) has an unadoring thing to say about you, it's time to ascend the throne and wave to all the little people.

Meet Dan Hinkley, as he's never been seen before.

I have no intention of being "fair and balanced" about DJH. Not after a dozen years of seriously irreverent friendship. It's hard enough having a friend who is absurdly talented and internationally feted; imagine how it pains me to have to share him with Martha.

Anyway, the reason for this post (the same reason as hers, alas) is that I'm just back from a 12-hour overnight stay at Dan and partner Bob's home in Indianola, Wash. (From Portland, figure a round trip drive of 10 hours.) Why a 12-hour stay, you ask? Why not 18 or 24? Well, you see, being such a good friend, I am simply grateful for the few waking hours we had together, before I was bodily removed from the house and chauffeured to the ferry before the arrival of the higher-ranking, European, 48-hour guests.

But hey, look what I saw:

There's just no end to the list of different species Dan's introduced to horticulture in his nearly two decades as a force in the plant world (not counting his years before that teaching). Thousands have been grown from the seeds he's collected on plant-hunting expeditions in the temperate world; thousands more were existing but little-known plants he popularized during his years as a nurseryman. I still have notebooks filled with the Latin names of plants I first encountered and fell in love with at his previous home with its vast, magical woodland garden.

Now he's worshipping the sun.

I'm looking forward to blowing your mind with tomorrow's entry about Dan's purple-leaved, tangerine-flowered HARDY bromeliad ... and I've got the pictures to prove it.

11:00 PM ET | 08-11-2008 | permalink

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Miserable Gardener Needs Company

Loving your garden as I am? Then spare a generous thought for our fellow gardeners in Hades.

Came across this post from Zanthan Gardens in Austin and loved both the shout-out for sympathy and the outpouring of kvetching from fellow heat-stroked gardeners.

Also couldn't resist observation that some local gardeners were "eschewing plants altogether." I do love that word.

Here's a heart-breaking teaser from M Sinclair Stevens' post:

This summer just tied the third-place record set in 2000 for the most 100 degree days...

I'm not looking for encouragement or sympathy. I don't need uplifting speeches from people who live in more temperate summer climes...Nor am I looking for strategies to garden in this heat. There are many gardeners in Austin who are more successful than I am. Good for you...

If, on the other hand, you want to tell me how miserable you are, please join in. Misery does love company. I took a little walk around my neighborhood to see how other people were coping, or not. And it cheered me up.

Pathetic pix then follow.

Meanwhile, here in temperate heaven, I'm still buying and planting and mulching and watering. But I'm off to Seattle tomorrow to see an old friend and his garden and you better believe you are going to want to check back Monday and get the inside scoop on that...

1:39 AM ET | 08- 8-2008 | permalink

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Henbane Vs. Fat Hen: Pick Your Poison

So have you heard about the feature in the British magazine where a certain deadly plant is recommended as a salad green?

Mistakes happen and a British chef made a doozy when he confused the truly spooky nightshade family plant, henbane (Hyoscyamus niger), with the not-entirely-innocent weed, fat hen (Chenopodium album).

Yet neither are quite as horrible or wonderful as the headlines about the chef's gaffe would lead us to believe.

Fat hen, according to one source, is an acceptable if bland substitute for spinach with leaves that are best not eaten raw, at least not in large quantities. Evidentally, many of the species contain saponins, particularly toxic to cold-blooded animals (it was a favorite tribal way to stun fish). Fat hen is also contraindicated for arthritis.

Of course I also enjoyed reading that when eaten with beans, fat hen can prevent gas.

Henbane, as any readers of Shakespeare know, kills -- or at least disturbs the nervous system, "as if some diabolical force took possession of the brain and prevented its functions."
On the other hand, the Egyptians smoked it to dull toothaches and if you've ever had one (a toothache, that is) you can imagine how grateful they were to have it.

Henbane was also used in the Middle Ages to to flavor and enhance the effects of beer (Pilsen=Bilson=German word for henbane. Check out this overview.

I picked up fabulous salad greens at the farmer's market yesterday with lots of spicy weeds. Alas, no altered states...

12:02 PM ET | 08- 7-2008 | permalink

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Get 'Em While They Last

Three years ago, a formidable nonegenarian named Hortense Miller -- vegetarian, environmentalist and early feminist -- discussed her longevity with a reporter: "Well, there's an end to everything. Good God, I'm 96 years old. I ought to die. And I don't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Alas, Hortense Miller was merely human. The gardener who spent 40 years creating what is now the Hortense Miller Garden in Laguna Beach, CA -- plus a few decades writing about plants -- died last week at the age of 99.

Many thanks to blogger Cindy McNatt at Homebody; otherwise I would have missed the woman's passing.

Now you may very well take issue with my headline, but you cannot argue that as elderly gardeners die, they leave the planet both richer (for all their hard work) and poorer (all that sagacity, gone). And since only the smallest percentage of them end up famous enough -- or rich enough -- to be written about and feted, I'd like to suggest that there may very likely be an uncelebrated Hortense Miller living somewhere near you.

Here's my pitch: If there is a senior gardener in your neighborhood, maybe this is the summer to make a little time for her. Or him. Or them. Maybe rather than just nodding or waving, this is the summer to stop and chat. Ask about her trees, his secrets, their memories; offer to dig something out of your garden for them to try. More than likely, you'll end up with something lasting and perennial from them.

I say this because life goes so ridiculously fast and death, well, any gardener knows it comes with the territory. But at least we gardeners get to pass around our passions, like burst pods scattering seeds.

1:40 AM ET | 08- 6-2008 | permalink

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In The Garden Of Sampson And Beasley

Nothing like a mega-party in a mega-garden to put stressful issues like entertaining in perspective. This past weekend, a mere 350 of us went to a fundraiser at Bella Madrona, five crafted acres almost solely maintained by my extraordinary friend Geof Beasley with no interference -- quite literally -- from his gracious partner, Jim Sampson.

With all the socializing, the dinner and the dancing (alas, not me), by the time we strolled the garden it was too dark for pix. But if you'd like to see a few colorful snaps of this magical place, check out the Digital Diary entry from my pre-blog days on the now deceased Web site, Talking Plants.

11:00 AM ET | 08- 4-2008 | permalink

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Radical Front Yard Gardener Throws in the Towel

Lest you think all do-good gardeners suffer from eco-hubris, don't miss the latest entry by D.C. gardener Susan Harris over at our friends' place, Garden Rant.

Having removed her front lawn with valiant determination, intent on growing her own food, Susan quickly realized "that my front yard - that most visible of spaces - would look like crap for most of the year, and I suddenly lost heart".

She then switched to a savvy hodge-podge of low-growing ornamentals.

No doubt I particularly love her blog post because I'm constantly having to defend my decision to have an ornamental-only garden. Never mind that I don't cook; people just seem so disappointed that I don't graze in my own garden and grow my own food.

Morally disappointed, that is.

But I do graze! For the two weeks it's in flower, I eat the sugary sweet petals off my pineapple guava. I also steal into my beloved neighbors' lawn-dominated garden and gobble down the raspberries growing along their fence.

Then I stuff my pockets full of cash, head to any number of Portland's farmer's markets, and like a great humanitarian lavish my wages on our hard-working local growers.

The market economy welcomes you back, Susan!

9:26 AM ET | 07- 9-2008 | permalink

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A Bud for George Carlin

File under, better late than negligent:

When I realized TP needed a leaf, flower or plant in memory of George Carlin, my first thought was a spikey, metallic Eryngium. Then it hit me like a dope slap. DUH.

and this, from George Carlin's Brain Droppings:

Life is short. Sorry. Life is not short, it's just that since everything else lasts so long -- mountains, rivers, stars, planets -- life seems short. Actually life lasts just the right amount of time. Until you die. Death on the other hand, is short.

12:01 PM ET | 06-27-2008 | permalink

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Dirt Nerd's Gotta Pea

The lead story this morning in the Talking Plants world (I didn't hear from you so what else could I lead with?) is Dirt Nerd's pea seedling. Isn't she sweet?

Well if that doesn't work for you, perhaps the thoughtful musings over at A Thinking Stomach will:
"What possible kinds of salad greens can one grow when it is 105 degrees Fahrenheit on Monday and 50 degrees Fahrenheit (and spitting hail the size of nickels) on Thursday of the same week?" asks blogger Christina from Pasadena. Check out her answers.

OK, how about...

An old friend showed up in the Talking Plants inbox the other day. If you'd like to meet one of the people in the world I most envy, check out the latest from the fabulously talented (and obscenely young-to-retire) Margaret Roach. Her blog is Away To Garden.

Sure I wish I had a couple acres in upstate New York. Poor me, all I've got is this:

10:44 PM ET | 05-26-2008 | permalink

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A Plant Nerd Worthy of the Name

Ever so slowly here at TP, strangers are becoming regulars, and regulars are becoming friends. So as I continue dodging your most-asked question, What Would Eve Do? (she'd chew her nails to the bone worrying about how much angst to reveal; I promise an update, soon...) I thought I'd introduce you to one of the many sensational photographers in the TP Flickr pool, an anything but garden variety acolyte of the Goddess Flora.

His name is Rob Illingworth, he says the "real"gardener in the family is his wife Sharon (I guess that makes him, what, chopped liver?), and the couple lives 7 miles north of the MN border in Oh! Canada. Judging by their Flickr page, her passion is woodland and rock garden plants and his is everything she grows.

If it takes a family to create a portrait like the one below -- the plant is Hepatica -- consider this union blessed.

A self-described "plant nerd with a bias to growing rather than plant classification" (aha! he does garden!), this serious amateur recently visited one of the country's more imaginative and certainly better-endowed public gardens, Chanticleer in Wayne, PA. Its website does not do it justice, but Rob's photographs do.

Surprisingly, it wasn't his destination. He had, shall we say, less romantic plans. Rob was visiting the mid-Atlantic region because of a trillum symposium he'd signed up for at a nearby native plant mecca, Mt Cuba. Now that is one serious plantfest of a place. "I went to the symposium not as an expert, but as a keen grower," Rob wrote, "feeling that we could grow many more trilliums here despite our climate."

I can only imagine the notes he took; something tells me this is the guy who'd you'd most want to cheat off during a final. Anyway, among the many pix he's posted from Chanticleer, this one is Rob's favorite:

So many Illingworth pix, so little time. Be sure to take your own tour through his photos.

And who, might I ask, are you?

2:46 PM ET | 05-22-2008 | permalink

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Do Your Plants Suffer From Indignation?

Did you miss the Nature article about the Swiss government throwing a thorny one to a govt ethics committee: to debate the dignity of plants?

The story itself makes enough sense if you read the whole thing through; among the things this committee intends to debate is whether genetic modification is more than simply controversial when it interferes with a plant's ability to reproduce and therefore, remain itself.

What's been far more amusing is how the very idea of plants having dignity has brought out great humor in those cheeky Brits and to a lesser degree, we Americans (alas, unless we're crude, we're simply not as clever and prone to humorless, narrow-focused diatribe).

See what happens when you throw me to the blogs? Hell with it, I'm heading back to the wildflowers. Will post pix tomorrow...

12:26 PM ET | 05-13-2008 | permalink

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Pissing Rain and Standing Water

Having just heard NPR's Melissa Block report on the desperation after the quake in Chengdu, and the continuing absurdity of foreign aid not getting into Myanmar, I'm torn as always between talking plants and talking real life.

Right now I've decided they're not mutually exclusive.

Even as eyewitnesses text, phone and e-mail in accounts from China, native lewisias in the Columbia Gorge are pushing from bud to flower absorbing whatever sun's rays are available (all told, not much); the first ruellia and acanthus flowers have been spotted by an Austin blogger; and a U.K. gardener mourns the absence of bad weather as he heads into the region's biggest flower show of the year.

Thanks for the much-needed visits to Zanthan Gardens and Blackpitts Garden; your blog recommendations enabled me to pick today's small if desperately-needed bouquet.

2:00 PM ET | 05-12-2008 | permalink

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Pomegranate Juice Fights Cavities

So we know (or think we know) that pomegranate juice -- like acai from Brazil, and other superfruit juices -- helps with everything from lowering bad cholesterol to inhibiting prostate cancer and reducing some of the risks from diabetes.

Today word arrives that two young men from Flatbush have discovered that pomegranate juice can help fight cavities. Here's a bit more from Touro College contact Barbara Franklin about Zev Zelman and Elliot Lutz:

The students based their research on the knowledge that cavities are not caused by the consumption of sweets, but rather the bacteria that ferment the dietary carbohydrates to produce lactic acid, which eats away at tooth enamel. However, pomegranate juice, and to a lesser degree pomegranate tea, effectively deactivate the bacteria within 10 minutes of contact. Other beverages tested that were effective included grape juice, cranberry juice, and some wines. The other beverages tested in the research had slight or no effect on the bacteria.

Feedback, please. Do you or don't you want to see TP venturing this far from Eden?

1:04 AM ET | 05- 1-2008 | permalink

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Doyenne of Dirt Comes Clean

Consider me humbled.

You may have noticed I'm not the hippest blogster in the bunch. In other words, if it's hot and happening in the blog world, you're NOT likely to read about it here.

Believe me, I'm not bragging. I get that my creds as a blogger are slightly pathetic, possibly even considered rude, if the standard of gentility is linking to others.

So consider me a plant in need of sunlight and nourishment and help me out here. What are the enlightening, surprising, irreverent and relevant plant-related blogs I need to read?

12:02 PM ET | 04-25-2008 | permalink

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Remind Me, Why Do We Hate Dandelions?

It's a banner year for dandelions around Portland, I don't ever remember them looking so fulsome and jaunty before. They're strewn like wildflowers along parking strips, lawns and empty lots (the few that are left here in Boomtown) and by and large, their arrangements are quite picturesque.

So what's the deal? Why do millions of Americans prefer using 2,4-D to kill them instead of making dandelion fritters and enjoying the show?

No doubt the answer dates back to the heyday of the British lawn, rhapsodized and defended by no less a plant lover than one of my favorite garden writers, Anna Pavord who wrote, "dandelions are bullies. They simply had to go". At least she had the good grace to feel guilty about buying a weedkiller, but buy it and publicize it she did.

Perhaps a later blog needs to throw open the debate on 2,4-D, still very much in ample supply on the garden shelf but so clearly deserving of more consumer dissuasion. But the focus here is on the dandelion itself.

It's been two decades since the New York Times reported on the "weirdo" Maine farmer who canned dandelion greens. Today, there are dandelion cookbooks, dandelion dinners (strictly upmarket), dandelion blogs and in honor of Passover, Jewish dandelion news:

Conveying the misery of the Israelites' slavery, bitter herbs vary from place to place and even from family to family. Ashkenazim favor freshly ground or sliced, fresh horseradish root, bottled horseradish, or romaine lettuce. Sephardim prefer bitter greens such as endive, escarole, chicory, sorrel, arugula, dandelion, or watercress.

Nearing holiness, let us not forget that dandelions make wishes come true. You just have to do is put your lips together and blow. But if you really can't bear them yet know better than to use herbicides (what, me, guilt you?) garden writer Anne Lovejoy suggests you love them to death.

6:51 PM ET | 04-17-2008 | permalink

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Landscape Under Glass Glows

Some breaking news from that blogger's best friend, NPR's Andy Carvin...

Conde Nast has just published its list of the seven wonders of the architectural world, and the Kogod Courtyard at the National Portrait Gallery is on it.

If you were around in February, you might have taken refuge with me there, DC's most-see glassed-in garden.

12:30 PM ET | 03-26-2008 | permalink

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Tips from an Amazon Gardener

Dona Raimunda is a rock star. A meteor shower. A force of nature. It's amazing to me how that much personality can be contained in such a diminutive body.

She is the mother of farmer Rosario Costa Cabral, the Amazon farmer featured in these pages a few months back. Rosario has made a name for herself growing crops never before tried in her region of the Amazon flood plain, where she's encouraged other farmers to branch out.

However...
Whereas Rosario relies on observation and experimentation, her mother channels ancestral know-how.

Dona Raimunda is who-knows-what-generation caboclo, the Brazilian word for the ethnically mixed people who live in the Amazon. In my Weekend Edition Sunda radio piece about Dona Raimunda, I listed six tongue-in-cheek gardening tips I'd observed watching this caboclo gardener at work. My hunch is they'll make a whole lot more sense if you care to join me in her Amazon garden but in any case, here they are:

#1 Mind how you talk to your plants
#2 Cucumbers and cabbage are sworn enemies and cannot be grown together
#3 Chili peppers are stubbornly reluctantly to let go of their fruit
#4 Plants are no co-dependent; they don't care if you garden in a bad mood
#5 Ugly chives save lives (a reference to putting anti-evil eggs in the vegetable garden)
#6 Smokers are welcome in the garden

3:31 PM ET | 03-22-2008 | permalink

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Amazon: A Reluctant Goodbye

Well, it's time to move on from our week in the Amazon. At least to the exclusion of the rest of the world. No doubt Rosario Costa Cabral and the planet's other inspirational farmers, gardeners and environmentalists will continue to be our guests on Talking Plants.

A few parting shots, if you will; not a whole lot to say, just some photos I have yet to share.

Admittedly, I didn't spend a great deal of time mastering the names and kinds of of Amazon flora (a good reason to go back). Little, in fact, was blooming but on our canoe trip, we did manage a small breakfast bouquet.

But there was no missing the dollop of green that came floating down the river like an emerald island (below). It was water lettuce, a staple of American water features coast to coast. This is a wonderful annual aquatic; seeing it was like running into an old friend.

Perhaps it's enough to know that the places, people and moments we've been visiting in the Amazon are real and possible.

8:15 AM ET | 02- 9-2008 | permalink

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Rosario's Jungle: a Brazilian Adventure

If I let go of my Amazon adventure, I might find myself in Washington, D.C. And you wouldn't wish that on anyone, right?

So here's to living in the moment ... just not this one. Instead, I've collected a few of my favorites -- some in sound, some in pictures, some in words -- and buoyed by the stunning skills of my digital media colleagues, I invite you to visit the Rosario family on the Mazagao River in nothern Brazil.

The trip's on me.

...CLICK TO PLAY..CLICK BOTTOM RIGHT SQUARE TO GROW..

4:16 PM ET | 02- 6-2008 | permalink

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Amazon Q&A

Just to catch you up, this week we're focusing on Rosario Costa Cabral, one of the world's more inspiring farmers.

Talking Plants community member Julian Blackwood recently asked a number of in-depth questions that were beyond the scope of the NPR Amazon story. I thought I'd post his q's (edited for clarity) with answers provided by Columbia U. ecologist Miguel Pinedo-Vasquez, who is an expert in Amazonian biodiversity and has known Rosario for a decade.

Q: Since (Rosario farms on) tidal land, presumably the water is somewhat saline? Or is it backed-up fresh river water that floods her land twice a day?

A: The water is not saline. The fresh water of the Amazon actually extends far into the sea.

Q: If the flood-tolerant pepper plant anecdote was accurate, it raises the interesting question of how that particularly valuable gene combination for flood tolerance (if that's what it is) is maintained in a partly cross-pollinating crop.

A: Well, the flood threat (and natural selection) is constant as is the human selection process. So presumably if cross-pollination does occur, any non-tolerant plants that might result are quickly eliminated. But I also saw that Dona Raimunda (Rosario's mother) seems to do some hand pollination with some vegetables; she shakes the flower of onions onto other onions. She says that way she gets better bulbs. How and where she learned this I don't know.

Q: The reference to distributing cassava "seeds" (of her improved selection) presumably meant the usual stem cuttings used for clonal propagation - as cassava is cross-pollinated. But the really big question is exactly what land was she actually farming when you visited?

A: When Rosario and her family came to Mazagao they could not bring cuttings but rather seeds (although as you point out, reproduction by cuttings is the usual process). The family had been dispossessed from their farm and were not sure when and where they would plant again. Any cuttings would have probably died. She also apparently distributed seeds not cuttings; people try out the seeds on their own land, select on their own. On her own land she plants her own cuttings.

Q: I understand Rosario's farming on logged-over land. She is probably planting gaps in various glades, cropping them until soil fertility or pest build-up drives her to a new plot (similar to traditional "shifting" cultivation). Let's hope she changes plots regularly so that the soil is not exhausted to the point where only tertiary scrub can regenerate (her planting of local tree species was good news).

A: Rosario is indeed planting in gaps and she moves annuals and semi-perennials around every few years to other parts of her landholding. Of course many of her crops are actually perennials and are native trees. The problem with fertility loss in the floodplain is not nearly as great as you might have in an upland site. The twice-daily tides carry and deposit nutrients and the flooding (both tidal and seasonal) probably helps keep down some pests.

11:28 AM ET | 02- 6-2008 | permalink

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Amazon Animal Farm

I've got good and even better news for those of you expecting a slide show today. (Welcome to the Year of the Spin). The good news is that the slide show is so cool -- with music, birds, river splashing and narration -- that several of us are now up to our elbows in production and it's taking a tad longer than expected.

The even better news is that in hoping to mollify those of you who heard Rosario on the radio and want more, I've got animal pix from the Rosario family farm. Who could resist this face?

Being a lifelong vegetarian, I tried not to get attached to the little piggy (pictured below, and by the way she's going to be sold; the Rosario family wouldn't touch her), but I nearly fainted from cute overload when I first spied her with his little hoofs hooked over the barn door. Her massive mother, however, Boneca (Doll), is a cherished member of the Rosario family; it seems there are enough stories about her to fill a few childrens' books. My favorite is the story about how she collapsed after eating something clearly lethal, and was subsequently revived by several pots of strong black Brazilian coffee.

One of the reasons there are plank walkways around the entire Rosario house is because the ground floor belongs to a bunch of roosters, chickens, and ducks. The ducks and chickens are easy to live with, but those roosters! They start crowing at about 3am and until evening falls, they never seem to stop. Of course, that's only news to those of us who are more accustomed to car horns and pistols going off at night, not farm animals.

The ducks seems to have the most fun, alternating between dry, muddy and aquatic terrains. I particularly loved the way they paraded up and down the pier during low tide; this close to the mouth of the Amazon, the tides came and went twice a day. After spending a week bathing and swimming in this Amazon tributary, I am living proof the river is quite benign.

I wouldn't have guessed that all these free-range farm animals would get along so well -- true, the dog has been known to steal eggs -- but even the cats are (relatively) well-behaved. They're certainly not warm and fuzzy like my own Lulah, but unlike Pao Preto the dog, they're allowed in the kitchen. And I might add they are quite the beggars.

Come back tomorrow for the first Talking Plants slide show, when I will prove there is more to life than Super Tuesday...

3:04 AM ET | 02- 5-2008 | permalink

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A Not-So Mythic Amazonian

She likes to be called Rosario. Her full family name is nearly a dozen syllables long.

She lives as simply as a human being could hope for and it isn't because she's lazy or unambitious. She is a woman born and bred in the Amazon, and whether it's fish from the river or fruit from the forest, she knows how to coax everything she needs out of the landscape. "The forest likes me," she says. "I look after its young."

Intrigued? You ain't heard nothing yet...

The permanent Rosario household includes her mischievous 82 year-old mother and her two 40-something brothers, but at any given time on any given hammock you'll find one or two of Rosario's stepchildren (the youngest is 20), near and distant relatives, and the odd ecologically-inclined academic.

Bar none (except perhaps his wife, Christine Padoch of the NYBG), the Rosario family favorite has got to be Miguel Pinedo-Vasquez of CERC, who often comes bearing gifts of California pistachio nuts.

The Rosario family has lived on this land now since 1991. Everybody works extremely hard and the results are obvious, including the new house they were able to build out of their own lumber a year ago. The house is very open with high, high ceilings and can accommodate an untold number of hammocks; each room has a door and a single light bulb, but otherwise the house is largely empty, a blessing in such stifling heat.

Not surprisingly, though, the center of life is in the old kitchen, connected to the new house by a covered walkway. The kitchen, for my money, has the best view of any -- into that jungle of a backyard.

So many pictures, so little time...which is why I invite you back tomorrow to enjoy the Amazon slide show we're busily putting together (how many shots of the piglet and the dog can you take?). In the meantime, I will leave you with the one image that's earned pride of place on my piano and I think you'll see why...

Tomorrow, the slide show. And a taste of acai...

9:34 AM ET | 02- 3-2008 | permalink

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For Love of a Sinkhole

Q: How many paleoecologists does it take to excavate a sinkhole, find seven previously undescribed bird species and reintroduce native plant species to a place they haven't grown in for a thousand years?

A: Depends on the paleoecologists.

Fact is, some aren't mortal. In particular, keep an eye out for the pair shown below. They were recently featured in an NPR radio report that mistakenly assumed they were human, based on their oh! so convincing paleoecologist clothing.

Closer scrutiny has determined it simply isn't possible for this couple to do as much as they do in as many places as they do it and not be in league with He Who Cannot Be Named. Consequently, approach with extreme caution should the pair be spotted one fine Sunday morning within the nether reaches of Kauai's Makauwahi Cave.

We'll post more photos shortly plus details as we gather them. Until then, be very afraid.

11:10 AM ET | 01- 2-2008 | permalink

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Rock Star Botany 202

Mahalo! It's another splendid day here on virtual Kaua'i ... of course I haven't been to the actual island in a while, but tuning in to the island's public radio station helps ...

First, allow me a moment of preemptive denial: I am not in the pocket of the National Tropical Botanical Garden (see? no hyperlink). The only reason my Morning Edition report and Talking Plants Kaua'i stories are filled with NTBG people is that the Hawaii-based botanists on my "Must Meet List" were already working for the Garden.

Can I help it if its staff rocks?

In fact, is was on the NTBG staff that I met my first so-called rock star botanist, Ken Wood, a self-effacing plantsman who, despite himself, does justice to the romantic term ... a term taught to me by future botanical rocker Clay Trauernicht, a field botanist tragically too cute for his own good.

(Yes, Clay, you are).

But enough flirting with jail bait, today's rock star botanist is Steve Perlman, who you might have heard hunting for the rare fringed orchid.

Steve Perlman's daring hi-jinks to save Hawaii's native plants is now the stuff of legend among those in the know, as well as the subject of articles, books and an Imax film. He has risked his life so many times gaining access to endangered plants, he couldn't decide which story to tell me when I asked him to describe the scariest botanizing trip of them all.

But describe it he did.

"It's not thrill-seeking," says Perlman. "I'm there because the plants are there and I'm trying to get to them". His track record is astonishing; let's just say that if you were a betting plant lost in the wilderness, you'd be smart to put your money and your life on him. Not only will he get your seeds into cultivation, often — with the help of the world's best propagators — he'll see to it that your offspring make it into the nursery trade.

Perhaps the best-known story about Perlman (Ken Wood is often featured in this tale) is about the lengths he went to in order to collect Brighamia seed in the wild. I recommend you hear Perlman tell it himself, but here's the gist:

Because these plants prefer life on the edge — that is, on windswept cliffs facing out to sea — Perlman had to rappel down to the area where they often grew only to discover they hadn't set any seed. So he'd dangle around, hanging off the cliff, until he'd located a male plant and could collect its pollen. Then he'd dangle around some more until he'd located a female plant, and dabble on the goods.

Months later, he'd return to see if the pollinated female plant had set seed. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. If not, he'd simply return again and again, as often as it took — rappelling off sea cliffs hundreds of feet above the ocean — to collect a few life-giving seeds.

Well, I don't know what you've been doing with your life, but something tells me I might yet consider doing something more significant with mine.

9:30 AM ET | 01- 2-2008 | permalink

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The Little Green Orchid That Could

On behalf of all your chlorophyllic friends here at Talking Plants, Happy New Year!

Now I don't mean to twist your arm, but what I'm going to tell you about field botanist Steve Perlman and his search for Platanthera holochila is likely to make a whole lot more sense if you listen to the Morning Edition feature.

It wasn't a very big plant, maybe 20 inches high. The chances of spotting it were absolutely nil. But Steve Perlman of the National Tropical Botanical Garden had seen this rare orchid years ago, before it was dwarfed by knee-high shrubs. So it wasn't entirely miraculous — but it was pretty damn impressive — when he found it growing the middle of a wind-swept, fogged-in swamp.

His timing was perfect; the orchid was ripe for picking. So he carefully removed a couple of pregnant pods for safekeeping, each filled with hundreds of dust-sized seeds.

This fringed orchid was the last of its kind on Kaua'i, and previous attempts to propagate it had failed. Since there could be no certainty that the orchid would live to see another September, the seeds Perlman was collecting this day were crucial to its survival.

One of the main reasons this particular orchid survived was because the enormous bog it was growing in was pig-proof. No lie. Hawaii's wild pigs are like living rototillers; one of the only effective defenses against them is some very serious fencing.

The next day, Perlman shipped this vial of seed pods to orchid specialist Larry Zettler, professor of biology at Illinois College. (Think: Larry, Larry, he's our man, if he can't do it, NO ONE CAN).

And now, through the magic of radio, you can Be There! when he gets the package.

About six weeks after receiving the little guys, Zettler e-mailed Perlman with good news, saying, "in a nutshell, this has not been an easy orchid to work with, but I am much more optimistic." I wrote to Zettler just the other day. Here's his response:

Hi Ketzel. We sowed the seeds that Steve sent us and they are in incubation. At last check, the embryos appeared OK. Platanthera species in general take considerable time in vitro, especially without fungi, but I'm becoming more convinced that this should be our option with this extremely fastidious species ... I find it ironic that my research with fungi may be taking a back seat with this species in favor of the asymbiotic technique which I had little faith in for the terrestrials. But that's how science sometimes works.

In other words, after intensive work growing terrestrial (ground) orchids in different fungi typically associated with the plant in the wild, Zettler's coming to the conclusion that he might have better luck not using any fungi at all. His findings seem to be consistent with a recent breakthrough in orchid growing at the Atlanta Botanical Garden (beware annoying little "chirps" at this site!).

So will the little green orchid that could ever grown on Kaua'i again? Chances are pretty damn good, given that there's not a more delicious spot in the world to set down roots if your idea of a very good time is relentless wet, muck and rain.

3:15 PM ET | 12-31-2007 | permalink

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Fernier Than Thou

It all started with an e-mail from the celebrated California horticulturist and landscape designer, Roger Raiche, titled "With Fronds Like These, Who Needs Anemones":

In one of those small triumphs that will never change the world, but which are personally very satisfying, I finally came across a rare variant of a common fern that I had been hoping to find for nearly 25 years now.

I got the e-mail yesterday and once I found a few hours to read it (I jest, but it is the size of a magazine article), I thought of you guys, or shall I say I thought of the bonafide plant freaks among you.

His story is a very simple one. It's about his decades-long search for the native Californian Lyman fern, not because it was rare or endangered -- in fact, it's in the trade -- but because he simply wanted to see it in its native haunts.

It's a story for fern lovers, plant hunters, grail-seekers and hortiholics. If you've got a little down time and words like polypody and pinnae don't scare you, read on...

Continue reading "Fernier Than Thou" »

10:31 AM ET | 11-16-2007 | permalink

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Author of 'Exodus' Honored by Plant?

Leon Uris (1924-2003) wrote the epic Exodus about the founding of the State of Israel. You probably never read it but you might have seen the movie with Paul Newman, Eva Marie Saint and the ill-fated Sal Mineo (poor guy, a roller coaster ride through Hollywood, then murdered during a botched burglary in his late 30's).

Until the end of the 20th century, I thought author Uris had a plant that was named in his honor: Leonotis leonurus. I figured the change of spelling at the end - from "is" to "us" - was some Latin mannerism.

WRONG.

Leonotis leonurus is a South African mint family member otherwise known as Lion's Tail or Wild Dagga, though I've never heard it called anything but leonotus (leeya NOtice). A valuable medicinal (I think it's particularly popular in South America), the trade calls it a "tender perennial" so you'll still buy it in the hopes that it won't die come winter, but for most of you it's going to be an annual.

I garden in Z8 where my leonotis has been surprisingly reliable year after year. Or it was before Zoe Mae moved in. Alas, she has chosen that exact spot where dear Leon is growing to plant her four padded feet and stare down anything that walks down the street.

This, of course, is unacceptable. Such a plant deserves much, much better, simply incomparable for the late fall garden when everyone but salvia's petered out.

And it's color! Pure, thirst-quenching orange. If you didn't know better, you'd think the plant in full flower was a fake: densely clustered spider-legged whorls of flowers growing in tiers along a square-stemmed stalk.

Check and see what others' experience with this plant has been in your area if you're skeptical, but I can't imagine you'll regret giving it a try. Once upon a time I tried a cultivar named 'Staircase' or 'Ladder' or Giraffe Legs', who the hell remembers, it was a towering 8' but way too lanky.

Stick with Leon's namesake.

12:29 PM ET | 11-13-2007 | permalink

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Tales from the Woods. Yours.

Man what a week we're wrapping up here at TP. So many new folks, so many smart folks and damn if you aren't an opinionated lot. Loggers, mill owners, non-profiteers, academics. Hortheads, spider freaks, xeriscapists.

My kinda folk.

First, a little housekeeping. If you've nothing more to say on the matter than Yes or No, I'd love to get your feedback on whether you've been posting because you heard the Sugar Maple story.

OK, now YOU...

Bill on the VA. woods:

a nearby crossroads...totally rural farmland of split rail fences and fields of straw and its thick summer air filled with setting sun softly illuminating barn swallows after darting dragonflies, mayflies, Lady Bugs, buzzing bumblebees and all their companions

Nice, huh? That crossroads is now called Tysons Corner.

Laura on a wooded refuge in Iowa:

Eden Valley. In the middle of the beautiful Iowa fields and prairie is this place that if filled with limestone bluffs and forests. I love to go at least once a week and escape.

Bruce on growing up around chestnut trees:

I can't tell you how many times over the years we had to have burrs dug out of our feet. Those things *HURT* a great deal. We'd go out and collect the chestnuts, pierce them and roast them. Good eats.

Mike on other painful chestnut memories:

About 30+ years ago a neighborhood friend and I were sitting on the edge of our driveway eating raw chestnuts that we had gathered from breaking limbs out of my fathers tree. Everything was going fine till my father walked up...

Rob on clearcutting:

A "clear cut" type harvest is a closer mimick of natural disturbance, and actually are rarely found anymore-modern sustainable forestry usually uses shelterwood cuts with seed trees left for regeneration (a "heavy thin").

Jason on clearcutting:

The notion that a clear cut is mimicking nature doesn't make sense. In nature...the trees are never removed from the site, but stay there as part of the ecosystem, supporting ecosystem recovery to a more natural state.

Matt on clearcutting:

...just as widely used now as they ever have been. The difference is that now foresters generally utilize an "AMZ" or aesthetic management zone to shield public eyes from viewing the harvest.

And Jim, who lives by the saw:

I work as a logger in the mid-coast area of Maine. I sold the skidder and use horses now. Each cut is different...I particularly like the fact that here folks can speak to their issues and perceptions. We can all learn from each other.

12:02 PM ET | 11- 5-2007 | permalink

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A Good Lumberman Is Not an Oxymoron

I got thinking about good lumbermen after a comment posted yesterday by TP community member, Rob Spence. It was in response to my post about the felling of big trees.

Who is to say that (even) sustainable forestry does not include the taking of some large diameter timber? Big trees grow back too, they just take longer, maybe longer than we personally will be alive.

I know someone who undoubtedly signs execution orders for big trees. And much to my (naieve) amazement, he is a fierce environmentalist and a devoted steward of the forest.

And a lovely guy.

You might have met him briefly if you heard this week's Sugar Maple story on Morning Edition. His name is Jamey French. And we could probably get him to swing by the TP blog if anyone has any thoughtful questions for him.

6:24 PM ET | 11- 1-2007 | permalink

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Shout-Out for the Sugar Maple

Out of my own harrowing frustration trying to boil down a complex and nuanced story, today's Morning Edition feature now spills onto the page.

The saga features that incomparable big-headed beauty Acer saccharum -- also known as the fiery Ms. Sugar Maple -- and her possibly fatal choice of a landlord -- often high-on-octane and always unpredictable -- the notorious Climate Change.

A quick count of the supporting cast, all stars in their own right, include Ecology, Entymology, Sustainable Foresty, and those three evil stoogies, Forest Fragmentation, Greedy Development and All-Terrain Terror. Plus the one player absolutely everybody's sweet on, Maple Syrup.

Without her, no one would bother seeing the show.

Can you imagine the trouble I had handling this cast, trying to keep one from overshadowing all the others?

Frankly, the whole story's a bit out of control. Imagine trying to predict the ending! Will Man save Ms. Maple? Will Climate Change conquer them both? And even if you don't like the way it's headed -- with Ms. Maple's friends the cold-loving Conifers getting the heave-ho first -- tell me this:

Do you think there's still time to change the ending?

4:56 PM ET | 10-28-2007 | permalink

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When It's Time to Talk to Plants

You know you've lost it after traveling all day and finally landing at a spectacular B&B, and instead of kicking back and breathing in the view, you spend three hours on the phone with Tech Support trying to get your laptop online.

Yes, I really lost it and alas, not for the first time. It tends to happen when I'm on assignment, running around collecting tape. (Make that "tape"; my hands haven't touched the real stuff in a long, long time).

But I am not a complete idiot. I do have a better self. And she's the one who yanks my head out of my hard drive and says, NATURE, GIRL. GET THEE TO NATURE.

So after I said goodbye to my last interview yesterday, an extraordinary forest historian named Charlie Cogbill who'd waltzed me through 18th century tree archives in Calais, VT, I got dropped off several miles short of the B&B and walked back home in the wonder that is northern Vermont.

I leave you today with a final word for the hard-working during this unfolding fall:

Get Over Yourself and Get Outside!

11:47 AM ET | 10-10-2007 | permalink

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Oprah's Gorgeous Gardener

I blame this tawdry tidbit on my friends at Garden Rant, who had the gloriously bad taste to blog about Oprah's gorgeous gardener and his heavy pectoral past.

The Sydney Morning Herald liked the story, too...

Since I can't legally post Jamie Durie's pix, I'll go one better and offer you a rare glimpse of a real horticultural heartbreaker. To save him from the paparazzi, however, I must withhold his (truly) famous name.

2:07 PM ET | 10- 5-2007 | permalink

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Rock Star Botanists

As promised, you're about to meet Ken Wood. He's one of the so-called "rock star botanists" on the Hawaiian island of Kaua'i, associated with the National Tropical Botanical Garden.

Why rock star? Most likely because his exploits have become the stuff of legend, his relentless, daring feet (insert wink) in the wild decade after decade, in search of endangered Hawaiian and Pacific Islands plants.

Yet for all the risks he takes on his seemingly death-defying plant expeditions, Ken Wood is no pumped-up Indiana Jones. Consider his modest comments from the talk we had while hiking a ridge overlooking his beloved Kalalau Valley.

All through time, there've been very interesting field biologists, many out here in the Hawaiian Islands, and these naturalists, botanists and biologists were incredibly adventurous; the rigors and difficulties they encountered were intense and amazing. So I think we've a similar mindset.

As for describing that mindset, how's this for a swashbuckling answer:

It's often said, "Who am I, Where do I come from, Where am I going to." Well, the "who am I" part is not just my physical form but what I'm a part of. So that curiousity we have, that interest in understanding our relationship with earth and/or the universe, I think that's in us all. And once we start to tap into it and learn a little bit and open the first few pages of this incredible story, we're locked in there. And if you can make a living at it, then you're in for a really cool ride.

It occurs to me that reading Ken Wood is no substitute for hearing him. So much is in his delivery. As he talks about hand-pollinating plants to get them to set seed -- we're talking very rare plants now, often the last of their species, clinging to rock cliffs 3,000 feet high -- his slow, seductive way of explaining things makes the act itself sound like soft porn. So if you haven't already, give a listen to the audio clip up top.

Ready to rock? Cool. How 'bout starting with an overview of the endangered plant crisis in Hawaii. Two good articles that feature Wood are Hanging by a Thread from Discover Magazine, and Paradise Lost? from Plant Talk.

And for you plant geeks, here's the blow-by-blow list of Hawaii's threatened and endangered plants, as well as an awesome overview of Hawaii's native flora.

A flora, I might add, all the richer because of guys like Ken Wood (I can already hear him protesting that he's just one piece of the conservation puzzle. Agreed). Not only has he kept countless plants from extinction, he is the decidedly bashful papa of a previously undescribed species. Get a look at this exquisite yellow Hibiscadelphus woodii.

Stay tuned for more adventures from Kaua'i...

9:03 PM ET | 10- 2-2007 | permalink

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Botanizing in Hawaii

It's all-Kauai all week on Talking Plants where the subject is Hawaiian native plants. So get comfy and start streaming Kaua'i Community Radio (it plays Hawaiian music all morning, though some dj's are decidedly better than others) and let me say, Mahalo! for listening.

I'm just back from a week botanizing on Kaua'i with a pretty remarkable cast of characters, whose stories I'll be telling later this year on Morning Edition. No reason for you guys to wait, though, since these are plant people you're gonna want to meet.

First up, the guy below in the orange cap, Ken Wood, who climbs mountains, jumps from helicoptors and dangles thousands of feet in the air to save plants from extinction. His story, tomorrow.

3:05 PM ET | 10- 1-2007 | permalink

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Maypop Memories

The gig's up. The mystery's solved. The Flickr Pix of the Week was Passiflora 'Incense'.

One of this hybrid's parents is commonly known as Maypop, and just about everything I know about the plant -- also known as Passiflora incarnata -- I found out this week from you.

All I'd hoped was to tease out a few passiflora experts with our Talking Plants Flicker Pix of the Week. And I did find a few.

But I'm happy to report I got way more than I bargained for. Click here and you will, too.

For instance: Chris has learned not to kill caterpillars (right, Chris?) because they could turn into Gulf Fritillary butterflies; Jason uses the plant's flowers to make tea; Michelle used to pretend the flowers were ballerinas, with three sets of arms and three heads; and Serene has a recipe for passiflora juice.

In addition: it's the Tennessee state wildflower, it's rich with Christian symbolism, and it does a wicked imitation of that creature immortalized in the 1958 classic, The Purple People Eater.

Finally, I'm aware of at least one person in our community who did NOT use a search engine to come up with the mystery plant's name. Congrats, Tai Haku.

I send you off into the weekend with the maypop memories of a Glasgwegian. Here's the last two stanzas of Where The Passion Flower Grows, by a fellow flower-lover, Charles M. Moore.

Feel your mind exploding
in the heavy scented air
experience the shiver
as you're captured unaware

A little touch of heaven
where imagination flows
the valley in the garden
where the passion flower grows.

10:18 AM ET | 09- 7-2007 | permalink

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Take This Lawn And XERISCAPE!

Well, what a lively discussion we've been having about lawns in Arizona. I've had to beg for kindness, edit out four-letter words, interrupt with a little levity ... yes indeed, this one had legs.

So what did John Tynan and Rene Gutel do after the the City of Tempe popped 'em one on the nose?

They xeriscaped, what else ...

If you'd like to know how John and Rene went from scorched lawn to desert bloom, check out the family's blog.

And yes, folks, I heard you loud and clear: I'll pitch a story about xeriscaping to She Who Must Be Obeyed (aka, my editor) and see if we can't get one on the air.

11:27 AM ET | 08- 7-2007 | permalink

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Lady Bird Johnson In Flower

I saw this quintessential "Lady Bird" Johnson quote in John Burnett's remembrance of the First Lady . With these two sentences she sets out an agenda with which she will transform the American landscape.

"I want Texas to look like Texas, and Vermont to look like Vermont," she once said. "I just hate to see the land homogenized."

If you're feeling as moved as I am by her death, and as grateful for her influence and priorities, consider a donation to your local native plant society in her memory. And now you've another reason to visit the Texas hill country in the spring: the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin. The first reason is to see her agenda in bloom.

12:50 AM ET | 07-12-2007 | permalink

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Iris bubbles

If this is the first you're reading of Beverly Sills' death and you find yourself a bit stunned, I might suggest you ease into the news by listening to NPR host Robert Siegel's poignant interview with actress Carol Burnett, one of Ms. Sills' best friends.

Here at Talking Plants, we'd like to offer you a moment of incomparable beauty, a photograph of the young Beverly Sills.

Not surprisingly, her iris namesake ( Iris 'Beverly Sills') pales by comparison, but does suggest the sheer sweetness and exuberance of a woman who preferred to be called "Bubbles".

I won't pretend this German iris will mingle quite as amiably as the diva once did; after all, it's tough to just work in a statement like this if you're not already growing irrepressibly tarty flowers. But if this plant does nothing more than remind you that such as woman once walked and sang among us, order a bunch of bulbs now and plant them in full sun in the fall.

3:28 PM ET | 07- 5-2007 | permalink

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Hellebore Helluva bore?

In case you're among the innocent who think controversy in the plant world means what shade of pink petunia to grow...

Back in April, trouble starting brewing on NPR's Sunday morning show, Weekend Edition Sunday, during a piece about hellebores. The brew, let us say, remains quite tasty.

Seems my colleague Lianne Hansen, who continually tackles far thornier stories than spring-blooming perennials, interviewed a seemingly nice gardener named George Ball about his hellebores.

What she didn't know was that Ball is reviled as a traitor in some horticulture circles, after shutting down Heronswood Nursery in Kingston, Wash., easily one of the finest mail-order nurseries in the world.

The man was certainly within his rights since he owned Heronswood. But until this unexpected move, he'd left the care and cultivation of that holy grail of a place to the man who put it on the map, Dan Hinkley.

Suffice it to say, when Ball bought Heronswood, he bought the good name and life work of a man considered to be one of the greatest plantsman in the world. (Dan's one of my best friends, so do know I would never describe him that way. Mostly I hate him for his oh! so tedious talents.)

So here comes Ball onto NPR, talking about his prize-winning hellebores, when anyone who knows his H. foetidus from his H. argutifolius is painfully aware that Ball is no breeder. He's a businessman with a good p.r. machine which was certainly not going to muck up a good story with excessive facts about the origins of his stellar plants.

WESUN followed up with some shake and bake the the following Sunday. And Ahhh Heyullped.

8:16 PM ET | 06-28-2007 | permalink

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