I went up to our Native Plant Garden the other day to check on the progress of the restoration, an undertaking being handled by my colleagues, John Egenes and Michael Wronski.
Our Native Plant garden has been closed for the past year and is undergoing a full-scale redesign that is spearheaded by the design firm Oehme van Sweden, whose work has been seen in the Chicago Botanic Garden and United States National Arboretum. As part of the firm’s plan here at The New York Botanical Garden, the location will be broken down into disparate native habitats that include a wetland, a sizable pond, and a meadow. It will also have a large woodland area.
My colleagues spent most of their time over the last year preparing the soil in different sections of the garden, adding truckloads of compost and leaf litter. The topography of the garden has since changed and many areas have been graded, making paths ADA accessible for wheelchairs.
They’re a curious lot, these dusky squirrels, with their furry ears and black cat sensibilities. You might almost think them bad luck, though even the most superstitious among us would be hard-pressed to toss salt over our shoulders after crossing paths with this forest rodent. And I’m not even sure that’s the right protocol for countering such a thing. Still, these little shadows are worth investigating.
I noticed the black squirrels for the first time while riding shotgun in one of the Garden’s staff golf carts (though the Mosholu course is close, I imagine we only have these because management didn’t take the suggestion of supplying us with go-karts in good humor.) The fellow in the driver’s seat pointed them out as an idle fascination, then asked me if I’d ever seen such a thing. But while a funny sight, there’s initially nothing about their behavior to differentiate them from the eastern gray squirrels you find stuffing capped acorns into their cheeks or, in my case, infiltrating the attic and chewing my home’s wiring threadbare. They breed with the grays, eat the same foods, and in urban areas of the Bronx are just as prone to hassle you for snacks, having grown too accustomed to people.
Fall’s chill may be creeping in, but the brilliant sun catching the leaves of the Forest makes for a fantastic celebration here at The New York Botanical Garden. Luckily, Garden Tour Guide Suzanne Goldstein was there in the crowd this past weekend to snap photos of the ongoing event in action, from canoe trips to forest tours.
The festivities take off again this Saturday and Sunday with live music, demonstrations, and activities for everyone to jump into. Want to glide along New York City’s only freshwater river with an expert canoe guide? The Bronx River Alliance has you covered. And once you’re back on shore, you’re welcome to join in on one of our trail tours, or sit back and enjoy the pluck and bow of The Manhattan Valley Ramblers’ talented musical arrangements.
While walking through the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory this afternoon, I found myself taken with a little plant–squat, a bit ragged, and looking almost sinister for its petite size. The nostalgia, however, was too much to gloss over.
For most kids, horticulture isn’t a hobby fallen into casually. It’s more often a topic reserved for the science classroom, where frustrated 6th grade teachers scrap and claw to gain even the most tentative hold on their students’ attention. And past the Bunsen burners, wedged somewhere in between lessons on cell walls and chlorophyll, there sits the smallest concession to fun: Dionaea muscipula–the Venus flytrap.
The Native Plant Garden is designed to showcase the beauty of native plants throughout the year. If this were spring, I might be talking about the planting of the woodland, where trillium, lady slippers and ferns were planted in April and May. But this is another time and another season.
Now the meadow is in focus. We haven’t had a meadow in the Native Plant Garden for a very long time–not since the old one succumbed to dodder. But once in bloom, the meadow will be an open, full sun grass garden punctuated with flowers. It has three distinct conditions available for plants, each offering a different environment to support a variety of species.
Paul Lisicky is the author of Lawnboy, Famous Builder, and The Burning House. His next book, Unbuilt Projects, is forthcoming. A New York City resident, he is a contributing member of the NYBG’s literary audio tours program, an opportunity for talented writers to add a touch of poetry to the exploration of the Garden.
The sandy soil, the boggy ponds: whenever I feel an inexplicable sense of geographic safety (say, in parts of Cape Cod, coastal North Carolina, or Florida), I understand soon enough that I’m looking at a replica of my childhood backyard–or at least the woods and marshes nearby.
And yet I once wanted to be elsewhere. Or at least I wanted my plants and trees to be elsewhere. I wanted them to grow in unexpected shapes, leaves large as shovels. I wanted them to be a little scary, a little closer to life as I knew it, which felt to me both beautiful and a little brutal. (Don’t children always know that consciousness is darker than their parents remember?) On childhood trips to Florida or California, my eye went first to the plants. The plants in warmer climates weren’t bound to restraint or to the pressures of some unnameable force, the codes always changing, impossible to decipher. Their oranges could be brighter; their trunks could be thicker, their vines could grow and twist until they made a mess of themselves, until you had no idea that the plant had once been a beautiful thing.
Last week we spoke about the art of growing giant pumpkins. Now, we will take a look at some of the creative things that you can do with your pumpkins once they have been pulled from the vine.
The chef will recommend pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, or a slice of pumpkin bread washed down with a pumpkin latte. The entertainer and the homemaker have another option, though–pumpkins crafted into splendid temporary vases. Every year I do a demonstration on festive seasonal floral arrangements intended to give visitors to The New York Botanical Garden some simple and fun home craft ideas, a few of which I have detailed here.
Honey bees still clung to the last of the chrysanthemums in the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory as workers hurried about the business of change this past Friday. The shuffling of displays marks the end of our successful Fall Flowers of Japan exhibition, and while it was saddening to see the carefully-trained beauty of the ‘Thousand Bloom’ ozukuri exit stage left, the transition from ancient gardening artistry to a beloved family tradition can only mean the beginning of one of our most anticipated yearly events.
Production began on our 20th Holiday Train Show over the weekend, an undertaking that’s a bit like watching a Norman Rockwell painting as it first meets the canvas. The Conservatory space was only vacant for a moment before the sights of New York began appearing in miniature, springing up along the walkways and setting the stage for a quarter-mile of tracks, well-known bridges, and over 140 familiar city landmarks. And this busy activity continues as we speak!
