The stars of this year’s Orchid Show are taking their places in the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, creating flashes of tropical color on all manner of vertical surfaces. This is the year of the “Vertical Garden,” after all. Take a note–the show starts on March 3!
It almost felt like winter this week. Almost. With a breezy evening of light flurries in the city (I actually had to use my ice scraper for once) the temperatures dropped just enough for us to pretend we weren’t leapfrogging one of the year’s most obvious seasons. And this weekend’s weather report suggests more of the same.
Now going into our third week of the photography contest, the competition is picking up the tempo. The first week’s competitors were joined by several more talented shutterbugs this time around, and all together the group produced a stack of fantastic pictures that had us poring over the results for some time. Turns out that the more brilliant pictures you have to shuffle through, the longer it takes to come to conclusions on who won–it’s worse when the judges can’t seem to entirely agree! It was like Twelve Angry Men in here. But we came up with a fresh batch of eye candy we think will inspire you to try for yourself.
“Chasing the light” is a phrase you’ll sometimes hear used by visual artists–often photographers and, in a slightly different sense, painters. The importance of illumination defines the form and attitude of what’s captured on canvas. And in the case of Lucy Reitzfeld’s art, it becomes a fundamental theme. Her paintings have centered on a search for “palpable” light, that which strikes the facades of skyscrapers and seems to fall on untouched snow–the instances when light appears to move and morph in such a way that you might reach out and touch it.
Along with Lucy’s husband, Robert Reitzfeld, the creative pair’s unique aesthetics work in complementary contrast, creating impressions from the rural and the urban. But for Lucy, whose work often straddles the line between in-the-field experiences and the insulated creativity of the studio, the methods of crafting are somewhat different. The traditions of the Impressionists and the plein air method are alive and well in her interpretations of the world around her.
The Nolen Greenhouses are a little like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory when it comes to the fanciful, sans that whole “tunnel of mortifying imagery soundtracked with the mad singing of Gene Wilder” aspect. You can see for yourself whenever we hold the occasional Members Only tour.
January 24, 2012; Unnamed sound off Isla Whittlebury, in Bahia San Jorge, west of Isla Hoste, approximately 55º16’S, 70º00’W
Before retiring for the evening last night I talked with the captain and told him that ideally tomorrow, we would like to get to one of the more exposed southern islands, Isla Waterman, and that he would have to decide–based on weather and sea conditions–if it would be possible in the morning. As a backup, I told him we would be quite happy collecting on Isla Whittlebury, off of which we were anchored for the night. This morning the engines started at 7 a.m., and almost everyone just stayed in their bunks for the ride. Because we were moving for about an hour, and we hit rough seas for about 20 minutes on the way (while crossing Seno Christmas), I realized that we would soon be arriving at our first choice, Isla Waterman.
Meet Doug Tallamy, an expert on the importance of native plants in our landscape and how to care for them — Thursday, February 16, 10 a.m. to 12 p.m.
Photo courtesy of Lisa Mattei.
Doug Tallamy knows how important a diverse native plant community is for other living creatures, especially insects. He has devoted much of his career to understanding the many ways insects interact with plants, creating essential food webs without which our ecosystems would fail.
His award-winning book and website, Bringing Nature Home, is a call to action for gardeners across the country to use native plants to sustain wildlife, promote biodiversity, and protect our ecosystems.
In his book, Tallamy recounts his own “epiphany” when his family moved to 10 acres in southeastern Pennsylvania, an area “farmed for centuries before being subdivided and sold.” He discovered that “at least 35% of the vegetation on our property consisted of aggressive plant species from other continents that were rapidly replacing what native plants we did have.” And he noticed something else: the alien plants on the property, such as the Norway maples and the mile-a-minute weeds, had “very little or no leaf damage from insects.”
Last night, as we rounded the west coast of Isla Hoste around dinnertime, we hit the roughest waters of the expedition, and our meal was delayed by several hours. Our destination had been a secluded sound on the west coast of Isla Hoste, but we ended up spending the night tied-in at Bahía San Jorge on Isla Whittlebury. I was told that we would be able to get to our desired destination, but it would have to wait until day because the waters were too shallow to navigate at night.
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I had previously explained our itinerary to the captain, so he suggested that we just flip-flop our intended destinations. The engines started up in the pre-dawn hours and we arrived in another spectacular site, at the end of (yet another) unnamed sound on the north side of Estero Webb. Once again we found ourselves surrounded by glaciers, and since it had been raining regularly for the last day or two, the number of waterfalls coming from the cliff tops had increased exponentially.
There are perks to working in a hive of brilliant botanical minds, all of them within stone’s throw (or email’s hassle) of your desk and generally willing to spill a measure of earthy wisdom for hopeful horticulturists. For those of us who can’t spend every last moment under the gleam of the Conservatory dome, it makes all the difference to color our cubicles with whatever growing things will tolerate an office.
That stands only for those of us who don’t have death’s touch when it comes to leafy things, of course.
This week we’re continuing the long lost Window Garden Wednesday series with a look at the collection of Dr. Jamie Boyer, our Director of Children’s Education and a man with a heap of rocks on his desk (plant fossils, actually). Will this be a dedicated weekly event? Probably not. But I’ll at least try to keep it going until my colleagues in the Library Building start deadbolting their office doors.