After October’s storm and the following clean-up period, we hopped right into November’s seasonal preparations with the Holiday Train Show. Our kiku bid a fond “adieu” as they made room in the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory for New York’s most cherished winter tradition. And did I mention the leaves on the trees? Fall had arrived–loud, clear, and bursting with the warmest hues.
Paul Busse and his team at Applied Imagination are nothing if they’re not diligent (and brilliantly creative). Setting up the Holiday Train Show takes no small amount of time or ingenuity, and for the last 20 years they have continued to produce one of New York’s most delightful holiday experiences. This year, we set up a time-lapse camera in the Conservatory so our readers could get a better idea of just how the whole process goes down.
October was a hectic month of stunning Japanese floral displays, pumpkin zombies, changing foliage and a holiday weekend punctuated by tragedy. But if we’re pros at anything, it’s picking ourselves up by the bootstraps! Horticulture can–after all–be an unpredictable business.
After many long months of preparation, the NYBG‘s Fall Flowers of Japan exhibition continued throughout October with a focus on kiku, a centuries-old chrysanthemum tradition requiring patience, skill, and an eye for aesthetic. Our very own Ann Rafalko even took it upon herself to explain just how the talented horticulturists behind these artful blooms do it!
In September, The New York Botanical Garden welcomed back much-loved chef and champion of orange Crocs, Mario Batali, for the rewards of his Edible Gardenplanted back in April. Mario’s recipes went up on Plant Talk throughout the following weeks, proving a delectable success!
The other day in Manhattan I passed a man wearing a t-shirt. It has been unseasonably warm this year and this was the confirmation. Throughout the fall and winter, The New York Botanical Garden has been showing similar signs of seasonal displacement and confusion. I would like to spend the next few weeks reflecting on some of the oddities that we experienced in the Garden over the past few months.
When I was teaching in our newly-restored Forest last month, part of my tour included a flowering Carolina rhododendron (Rhododendron carolinianum). It wasn’t in full flower, however there were several open blossoms scattered throughout the plant.
You probably run into them nearly every day. Hardware stores, supermarkets, pharmacies–almost anytime you step out the door to run an errand this time of year, you’ll see them lined up somewhere in the store. But the red velour leaves of the poinsettia weren’t always the face of December decoration they are today.
What’s the real story behind this ubiquitous holiday annual? I found myself mulling it over after someone told me about its deadly toxicity, a rumor that’s fed the newsmill with tales of poisoned pets and children for decades. The “fatal secret” belied by the innocent potted plant at the cash register, wrapped in cheery cellophane. Could such pleasant foliage be so dastardly?
Joyce H. Newman is the editor of Consumer Reports’ GreenerChoices.org, and has been a Garden Tour Guide with The New York Botanical Garden for the past six years.
In front of our Visitor Center Café is an amazing specimen of Norway spruce (Picea abies), a species often known for its annual appearance as the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.
Our Norway spruce is part of the Arthur and Janet Ross Conifer Arboretum at the NYBG and was planted around 1940. Its medium to dark green needles are four-sided, resting on branches that gracefully droop down, designed to be flexible in a heavy snowfall.
Norway spruces can grow to as high as 90 or 100 feet, with a lifespan similar to that of a human being. They are native to the mountains and foothills of Northern Europe rather than the U.S., although they have become popular screening plants here. They grow just about one foot each year, which is considered fairly quick.
Marc Hachadourian is the Manager of The New York Botanical Garden’s Nolen Greenhouses for Living Collections, a staging area for plants for all of our gardens, yearly exhibitions, and events.
Walk through the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory and you may come upon a peculiar chandelier of a plant, with a vine spiraling right up to the roof and clusters of flowers dangling from it like upturned flamingo bills. You can’t miss the rings of vibrant, coral-red blooms.
It is easy to see where the bristlecone gets its name.
The oldest living tree currently known on the planet–a Bristlecone Pine named “Methuselah”–is located high in the White Mountains of eastern California. It is estimated to be about 4,700 years old, as old as the great pyramids in Egypt and older than Hammurabi, the Babylonian king. To protect the tree, its exact location has been kept a secret.
Scientists say that other, even older bristlecones (Pinus longaeva) exist, but simply haven’t been dated yet. As you have probably guessed, the species gets its common name from its scaled cones, which have spiny, claw-like bristles sticking out from each scale.
