Is there a rock star hiding in our Water Lily Pool?
What does the British Invasion of the ’60s have to do with the NYBG‘s Water Lily Pool? Well, some of our visitors think there might be a connection there, but the validity of the link has proven elusive. So, in looking at the water lilies now growing in the outdoor pond–many of them breeds championed by Monet at Giverny–I’m here to set the record straight. Come rock, roll, or high water.
If you spend a few minutes perusing the signage around the water lilies in our pool, you’ll doubtless run into the culprit at the center of the stir. Many of the cultivar names in the collection lean toward Latinized or Asian-inspired nomenclature, but not this one. Even with its flowers yet to bloom, there’s more than one visitor to Monet’s Garden who’s thrown a double take at Nymphaea ‘Ray Davies’.
The geography (and geology) of the NYBG is pretty fascinating on its own merit. Walking through the Azalea Garden and the Forest, looking at the natural rock formations that define this area, you can make out the scars and striations where glaciers passed through, ages ago. This one comes from the Native Plant Garden, which we’re anxious to reopen in 2013.
Strange things are afoot under the eaves of the trees. Or is it more appropriate to say that they’re underfoot, period? Either way, take a walk by the NYBG‘s Forest and just maybe you’ll see a few shady swindlers lurking in the underbrush.
Like the family cat or man’s best friend, trees tend to pick up their share of freeloaders as they go through life, though in this case we’re not talking about fleas or dreaded tapeworms. It’s a topic I tackled in part when we discussed the skullish blooms of the corpse plant only a few months ago. And like that pale parasite, there are other native bloodsuckers found in the forests of New York that are just as fond of mooching on their friends.
Apologies for the late post! I got caught up ogling the offerings for today’s Greenmarket (it’s free to enjoy on Wednesdays, open ’til 3 p.m.). You can check out the produce, cheeses, pickles and pies for yourself just inside the Mosholu Gate in front of the Library Building, and it’s right near the Home Gardening Center, where many of our own vegetable projects mingle with the flowers.
I thought, “Guthrie? Like Woody Guthrie?” His first wife went by the name of Mary. But it wasn’t her. I dug a little further into the root of this hoop skirt of a rose and came up with another Mary, a world away, to whom the pink thing owed its name.
It was in 1929 that Alister Clark, renowned Australian rosarian, named this rose after his own Mary Guthrie, though what relationship Clark had with the Guthrie family is proving difficult to uncover. There’s a telling anecdote from a book titled The Rose Gardens of Australia that illustrates just how important the honor was to the namesake, which I’ve included below.
Polyantha rose – Rosa ‘Mary Guthrie’ — Photo by Ivo M. Vermeulen
“… We had some notable visitors to the garden. From Eve I had got a vivid pink, single bush rose which she had called ‘Ella Guthrie’. One morning a delightful, white-haired, sprightly old lady of well over eighty visited us and, without any preamble, demanded to see the Alister Clark roses. I walked down with her and, as we came through the gate, she gave a cry of delight and started to run across the grass. ‘That’s me!’ she cried. ‘That’s me!’ Then, as she read the label saying ‘Ella Guthrie’ she turned to me in disgust. ‘That’s not ‘Ella,’ she said emphatically. ‘She was my aunt, and a poor, washed-out thing, like her rose. This is me! Mary Guthrie! Alister said it looked like a wild rose, so he called it after me, because I was always the wild one of the family.’ Of course, I changed the label without delay.”
I like to think Monet would approve of the Water Lily Pond here, with its artful, circular collections of pads, and the monolithic image of the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory over all.
Sometimes I’ll come across something that looks like a sorbet, a baked tart, or a platter of colorful petit fours, knowing full well that nature usually does a better job of making things look “good enough to eat” than the local confectioner. Not that the poison control hotline would humor me if I acted on all of these novel compulsions, but, hey, it’s just a thought.
We’re bringing the City of Lights to the City that Never Sleeps, and it begins this Saturday night with the first of our Monet Evenings.
Once a month from now through September, the NYBG will host elegant cocktail nights flaunting all the romance of the city on the Seine–the pluck and jangle of Gypsy Jazz, the nostalgic swoon of “La Vie en Rose,” the swing of the Zazou movement, or the sanguine strains of Debussy. Because, the way we see it, there’s no need to stop at the rural charm of Monet’s Giverny when so many of his contemporaries found their muse on the Champs-Élysées. Impressionism goes beyond the context of the canvas, after all.
A herd of us, myself included, skipped out on our desks yesterday to spend the morning in the Ruth Rea Howell Family Garden, picking our way through the planted rows and soaking up the spring weather. We’re not truants so much as curious and hungry, really. After a few minutes chatting with the Family Garden’s Assistant Manager, Annie Novak, we can’t think of a better place to let loose with your kids over the weekend.
I’m not just saying that because Annie kindly let us pluck a couple of sugarsnap pea pods to munch on, either. (After much whining and pleading on our part, though totally worth the effort considering how crispy-delightful they were).
More than an oasis of everyday New York staples, this foodie bonanza is also the host of Global Gardens, where five international green thumbs are tending plots that represent the home-grown veggies of their countries’ cuisines: Italian, Irish, Korean, Chinese, and Caribbean. And (perfect timing, I know) this weekend marks their Summer Harvest Celebration!
