Succulent sculptures at entrance to cactus and succulent greenhouse, Gothenburg botanic garden. The Swedes have a great sense of humor. I have been lucky to visit many of the world's great gardens: I shall never forget an April visit to Savill Gardens: millions of daffodils in bloom and me (just like Wordsworth's poem!). Royal botanic gardens Edinburgh on a perfect spring day. And I have now visited Gothenburg botanic garden again--after nearly 20 years absence. Many of my plant addicted friends agree with me that this may have the finest collections of Temperate plants on earth, grown to perfection and displayed with great artistry. Gothenburg ROCKS! And I'm here at the perfect time for their mind boggling bulb displays...a tiny fraction of which I shall share here with you... Anemone nemorosa coming into full bloom in woods all over Sweden: floral symbol of Gothenburg botanic garden...(sublime!) Before I do that I thought I should show you the wood anemone that is blooming by the million everywhere in Sweden right now: these were taken at Gothenburg: this is the floral symbol of that garden. Not bad, eh? I think Denver Botanic Garden should have a floral symbol...the Pasqueflower, perhaps? Easter daisy? Let's hope we pick as wisely! Carl Skottsberg, first director of Gothenburg Botanic Garden: a great botanist and visionary leader Gothenburg has had more than its share of brilliant leaders, starting with the first (who is honored on this medallion in the administrative building). Per Wendelbo, who led the garden in the middle of the last Century, is credited for really elevating its collections and stature--he was Norwegian by birth, and died tragically in a traffic accident in middle age. He picked out Henrik Zetterlund as horticulturist, who has been the guiding spirit of the garden ever since--and whom I will honor in my next blog--showing him in his native habitat in Götene where he has a weekend home.... Tanacetum leontopodium, a wooly composite from alpine heights in Central Asia--one of thousands of fabulous plants blooming right now at Gothenburg An alpine daisy, challenging to grow outdoors in Sweden, grown to perfection in one of the many alpine houses. Mats Havström, curator of Herbaceous collections took Sunday off to show us around behind the scenes: one of many young talents who are maintaining the momentum of Per Wendelbo's dream. One of the many talented young staff in the Dionysia house, showing a group of us around last weekend. Iris linifolia, a rare Central Asian Juno iris grown to perfection in one of the bulb greenhouses ("behind the scenes"). I doubt you would find a FRACTION of the plants in this botanic gardens' collections anywhere in America--public or private. I am a big fan of Juno iris--and Gothenburg has one of the best collections along with Kew. We grow these outdoors, however: Gothenburg is generous and has shared many bulbs with us over the years. It is possible that some plants in your garden trace indirectly to them as well! Iris graeberiana x magnifica, at height of bloom in the public bulb display I was charmed by this hybrid juno--which I suspect would grow gangbusters in our xeriscapes. Anemone biflora in its dazxzling scarlet phase--in the public alpine house display I have admired this bulb in books for decades: what a treat to see it in "the chlorophyll" (plant equivalent of "in the flesh") Androsace (Douglasia) idahoensis--a very rare native American alpine grown to perfection in the backup alpine collections. Don't look for this anywhere in American public gardens--you will not find it. There are literally hundreds of American wildflowers growing throughout Gothenburg, a distressing number of which are NOT being grown by American botanic gardens. Sometimes we forget that botanic gardens should be about plants (ahem!) instead of distractions...but I am getting on my soap box. Sorry! Primula renifolia, the rarest primrose in the Vernales section, recently introduced from Caucasian cliffs by Gothenburg staff. They would not be thrilled that I'm showing this a big past peak of bloom--but this is a plant of great pride: the most unusual of its section and a spectacular new garden plant. They should be proud. The public is flocking to visit the bulb collections, although the day was blustery... Their garden is loved by the citizenry. And botanic garden afficianodos around the world make pilgrimage to Gothenburg: our Mecca! One of many dozens of species of Fritillary blooming now--all meticulously labeled. Some of us are proud to be Frit Freaks--although many in the genus are chequered brown and green and invisible to ordinary folk. Too bad for them! Rare Asiatic saxifrages in the porophyllum section, some still unnamed after decades in cultivation. You will not find these at your local Wallmart, incidentally... More treasures...ho hum..... Most of the dionysias were finished blooming (their flowers trimmed off to prevent rot)--but Dionysia khuzistanica still glowed in the Dionysia house. Just a tiny fraction of the treasures in a few of the many glass houses--and there are acres of rhododendrons, trees, perennial borders, and a rock garden with hundreds of vertical feet of relief--it would take an encyclopaedia to show it all: you must simply make Gothenburg a destination...but don't expect to see it all--especially not in just a single day!</p> "...And haply then That future country lost its gloom; More lovely in that world than this, Immaculate the white lily grows, And perfected we walk in bliss."</p> Hortus Paradisi</em>, William Bell Scott</p> More pictures from Gothenburg this week on this blog....</p>
Chilean blue crocus (Tecophilaea cyanocrocus) This </strong>should get your attention: after flying from Denver to Chicago, Chicago to Copenhagen, Copenhagen to Gothenburg, Sweden--we found ourselves in Eskilsby (a village not far from the airport) where we were driven to Peter Korn's amazing garden--and this was one of the first plants greeting us our first morning! Long thought extinct in the wild (it has recently been rediscovered), the dazzling blue Chilean "crocus" (which it is not) is one of the many success stories of horticulture--where rare plants have been propagated and even used to repopulate the old habitats! In Peter Korn's bulb house Here you can see the same plant in habitat--in front of Peter--in his special greenhouse for growing bulbs. Arum korolkowii This was one of my favorites in the bulb house--an aroid from central Anatolia which I am growing as well. I hope my form is half as good as this one! Bellevalia sp. in the bulb house Dozens of bulbous irises, fritillaries, narcissi and many more bulbs were blooming: I was enchanted with this Bellevalia--a genus allied to grape hyacinths. Logs designed as beneficial insect hotel Even the practical things around Peter's garden are attractive--he uses these logs to house beneficial insects that help keep the bulb collection clean. Cottage at top of Peter Korn's garden The garden is vast: these are just a few glimpses of some of it. There are actually many dozens of plants coming into bloom--but by May it is a blaze of color. We intend to revisit in a few weeks and see the progress of color in the alpines here... View of Peter Korn's rock garden from above But the sculptural forms of the landscape are beautiful in their own right. Much of this area was covered with dense forest before Peter began to clear it for the garden. It now has the rugged look of alpine tundra. It has been carefully crafted so that alpine plants can grow here much as they would in "nature" (which this closely approximates).. Another shot of alpine tarn in Peter Korn's garden If one didn't know better, one might easily think this was a picture taken on an alpine summit! View of Peter Korn's rock garden Pathways and benches are provided throughout to make it accessible to the many visitors who come to admire the views and the throngs off alpine flowers. Peter Korn's book on his garden: soon to be published in English Peter has written a book describing the philosophy behind this garden, full of beautiful pictures of plants in the wild and in his garden. He has had this translated, and it will be published in the next few weeks... I joined the director of the Botanic Garden in Tromsö, Norway (the northernmost botanic garden in the world) and Kit Strange, horticulturist at Royal Botanic Garden, Kew to speak as part of Peter's biannual conference he organizes in the nearby village. I have some more pictures from Peter's and greater discussion at another website... This is the beginning of a several week adventure I will be sharing with members: visiting Scandinavia in springtime is a great luxury and pleasure--and soon we are headed to Germany in pursuit of even more beautiful gardens, following spring in the European heartland!</p>
Planning to attend the Spring Plant Sale on May 10 and 11, 2013? Make the most of your trip by following these nine tips from a Spring Plant Sale pro.</p> </p> Bring your own wagon.</strong> It’s by far the easiest way to get around the sale quickly and efficiently. There are great lightweight, foldable carts these days. Or you can, like me, drag the huge heavy wagon you bought from Smith and Hawken back in the day. I am also searching for a good way to create layers in the cart, so I can fit more plants in it. Obviously, I have a problem.</li> Come early. </strong>Don’t be discouraged by a long line. Once the gate is open, it moves in quickly. If you absolutely can’t come early, there will probably be plenty of plants left, just not that once in a lifetime special Grown at the Gardens plant that you will see in all of the carts of the people who got there early.</li> Know what you need.</strong> Now this is a dicey question for most gardeners. After all, what is “need”…really… On my gardening continuum, “need” takes a definite second to “want,” is even further back from “that’s very cool, I wonder where I can fit it in” and straggles in a distant third from “I have to have that plant in my garden!” But things like shade or sun, or steep hillside or marshy bog (does that exist in Colorado?), even the neighborhood in which you live in town, are helpful clues for the people in the know.</li> Know where to go. </strong>Consult your map. If you are a container gardener with not much space, you might want to try the annuals and herbs section. If you are a vegetable gardener, obviously that is where you would go first. As my tastes have evolved, I tend to hit the Grown at the Gardens plants first, because I know that the horticulturists at the Gardens are on the cutting edge of what to grow in our unique climate. Then I head for the natives. The more I garden, the more I lean away from the traditional annuals and perennials and look for the plants that already have our hot, windy (at least where I live) arid climate down pat. But, go ahead, plant that delphinium. Torture yourself.</li> Know who to talk to. </strong>There are lots of volunteers at Spring Plant Sale who are gardeners, just like you. They can help direct you to where you want to go and are very knowledgeable about what is around their section. But if you want MY advice, seek out a Denver Botanic Gardens horticulturist in each division. Ask them what they are interested in, what’s new, what’s exciting. This is their profession. They know the score. I love that.</li> Talk to the other shoppers around you.</strong> They share your interests. They might know more than you do. Shocking as that may seem. (I always look in everyone’s carts to see what I might have missed.)</li> Once your plant-shopping itch has been scratched (and be sure not to stop until it fully is!), check out, put your plants in the valet area and then STOP.</strong> Look around. You are in one of the most beautiful and bewitching public spaces in Denver. Stroll down the O’Fallon Perennial Walk and into the Romantic Garden, get some ideas for your own backyard. If you are into natives, go back to the Roads Water-Smart Garden or seek out the Rock Alpine or Prairie Gardens. If you need some Zen time, hit the Japanese Garden and the new Bonsai Pavilion and Tea Garden.</li> Take a minute to give thanks. </strong>You live in Colorado. Isn’t that grand?</li> Resolve to come back to this civic treasure.</strong> Denver Botanic Gardens consistently ranks in the top ten botanic gardens in the country. You have something to learn from this place in every month of the season. Support it.</li> </ol> </p> This blog post was written by Mary Elliman, a member of this year’s Plant Preview Party committee.</em></p> </p>
Opuntia cycloides at my house last fall Since there will be no lilacs breeding out of this year's dead land (check the last paragraph of this Blog if you don't recognize the reference!) we must make lemonade out of our lemons! And succulents RULE! Several groups of plants are coming through this rather horrific winter in great form: almost all native plants, alpines and succulents--especially cacti, agaves and yuccas seem not to have been fazed at all by the catastrophic late spring frosts that have laid so many flowering trees, shrubs and bulbs low. Yuccarama (Yucca faxoniana and Y. thompsoniana) I doubt there are many visitors to Denver Botanic Gardens (and literally millions of people have walked by these) who haven't noticed the sculptural forms of Yuccas outside our maine Education building. When Dan Johnson first had these delivered over a decade ago from Mountain States Nursery--I was sure they would be the most expensive annuals we had every planted: I was wrong on both counts--they were a gift so they cost nothing. And they have been resoundingly, gloriously perennial! And this year is no exception. They are our permanent sculptural exhibit! And they laughted at this spring's shenanigans... Opuntia engelmannii in the Rock Alpine Garden The "average person" is probably oblivious to the enormity of the damage inflicted last week by the 7F low with little snow: I think this is the greatest spring damage I have seen inflicted in my 34 springs at Denver Botanic Gardens. So I am focusing more than ever on that graceful ballet--as the opuntias all over the gardens gain color and turgidity over the next month or two and build to their spectacular bloom season: Looking at these and our rock garden and native gardens, I think...you know: they look good as ever! P.S. Afterthought: Several friends of mine have been quoting T.S. Eliot's Wasteland, which I have hyperlinked for your convenience...which many of us philologists puzzled over as youngsters in school: this long poem opened the floodgates to gnomic, mostly incomprehensible modernist "poetry" that (like Marianne Moore) I too dislike...the first sentence of which I have filched for my starter. I sort of like Eliot's most famous poem--although I hate what it has inspired subsequently. Give me Keats or Auden or Browning any day! </p>
Fritillaria bucharica 2012 So as not to depress you right from the start, I post an image of Fritillaria bucharica</em>, one of my favorite bulbs I have grown for several decades in my home garden, delighting in its waxy white bells this time of year...Lovely, don't you agree? Fritillaria bucharica today This is what that same plant looked like today: like literally millions of plants across the Denver Metropolitan area, the "great frost of 2013" will have killed outright or at least set them back a year or two in their growth. Temperatures plunged to near 0F last Tuesday night--with only the lightest dusting of snow for most of us...disaster for the plants so far along. (I know many of you on the West end of town had more snow and consequently less damage: don't gloat. Your time will come). Colchicum autumnale 'Waterlily' today</p> Here is one of my favorites: you are not apt to recognize the Colchicum</em> because its foliage is mostly black. And dead. I have never seen damage on such a wide spectrum of bulbs in a spring frost in my entire career at Denver Botanic Gardens.</p> Paeonia mlokosewitchii</p> Although not quite as toasty as the Colchicum, I fear that my proud clump of Paeonia mlokosewitchii</em> may suffer a severe setback, if it does not succumb to secondary infection (commonly happens among badly damaged plants). This is a really lovely peony--trust me.</p> Paeonia cambessedessii today</p> This is one of many bright spots: my rare (and supposedly very tender) Paeonia cambessedessii from the Balearic Isles appears not to have been damaged. I moved this last autumn, and probably delayed its growth this spring consequently--something I am profoundly grateful for.</p> Paeonies at a long-time volunteer's house today</p> Here you can see a frost ravaged peony at a nearby garden: the ones behind are unscathed (they were covered with large bushel baskets: my friend didn't have enough baskets for all her peonies--and more's the pity.)</p> I have been called and emailed by many local friends, mostly distraught, wondering what to do? First off--don't do anything. Some of the plants that appear to be severely damaged may magically heal and rise up from the ashes. Just as when we have our inevitable hailstorms--the first thing to do is relax. Maybe mix a drink and kick up your heels.</p> Remember that San Francisco has earthquakes and other coastal cities can be crushed by tsunamis and hurricanes. Frost singed large swathes of Los Angeles this past winter more severely than it has in decades, and Tucson has had its second disastrous winter in a row.</p> We have just had a string of six remarkably mild springs--we have had almonds, apricots year after year, and I have watched magnolias and forsythias bloom for weeks and weeks and not be blasted.</p> This spring I doubt we will see many lilacs, fruit trees, and many plants we love may be irreparably damaged.</p> The average Joe may not have even noticed , but gardeners around town are experiencing enormous disillusionment and sadness. May I remind you that we are urban farmers--and our farmers face this sort of thing year-in, year-out: not just frost and hail, but disease and pest damage that can destroy a crop. Markets may make their bumper crops worthless, and transportation, harvesting and marketing can damage or devalue years of work. And yet farmers feed us nonetheless. And our gardens which will inevitably experience disasters (broken water mains, a neighbors dog breaks a prized specimen, severe drought stresses your plants, windstorms, who knows what all can give you grief). Yes: disaster is inevitable and part of the cycle of the garden as much as spring and fall, as much as the peaceful rituals of dusk and dawn. A garden will be subjected to untold insults and indignities. Just wait a few weeks. Gradually trim back the burned bits once you are sure they are dead. Cultivate a little, spread a little compost and food. Wait and the miracle of growth and time will heal--and your garden will be all the more beautiful. Honest. If only because you know that like precious life itself, it is vulnerable and must be nourished and cherished and loved.</p>
Dwarf forsythia in Northwest Denver on April 6, 2013 Robert Frost was undoubtedly NOT thinking about Forsythia when he wrote his classic short poem, whose proper title is "Nothing gold can stay." I suspect as a good New Englander he was thinking of the golden sheen of willows, and the chartreuse shoots emerging from the ground everywhere in spring (and turning green in a few weeks)--or the chartreuse haze in the trees before they leaf out. But for Forsythias, "the early leaf's a flower" as well, and they are starting to be glorious right now! If you do not know the poem, do linger over it. If you know it well, you will linger all the more: Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leafs a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Forsythia x 'Arnold Dwarf' There is an ominous undercurrent to this poem, which explicitly refers to how quickly things decline. But in the case of forsythias, Coloradoans know that many years (it used to be most years) the flowers would rarely last more than a day or two before a sudden cold snap froze them. With lows predicted to drop to 20 in a few days, that may happen yet again to those whose flowers are emerging or fully out. A cautious Coloradoan would cut branches tomorrow of any forsythias in the garden. The more branches you cut, the less likely the remaining branches you leave behind will freeze (don't ask me why--it's superstition I suspect)... For many years one find Forsytha viridissima</em> 'Bronxensis' sold locally from time to time. It has a paler flower and the plants are somehow more susceptible to frost. 'Arnold Dwarf' has a darker gold flower, and seems to do well, provided you have a spot where it can trail down gracefully. And I would put it in a cooler microclimate where it will not be coaxed into too precocious of bloom. Euphorbia cyparissius This more chartreuse shade of yellow is what I really think of in early spring. The Euphorbias have gotten a bad rap--this and the next have both been declared noxious weeds in many states. I have never seen E. cyparissius</em> behave TOO badly in Colorado, certainly not in wild areas. It can spread rambunctiously in the garden, but so can violets and lots of other plants no one complains about. If you choose to let into your garden, do put it "between a rock and a hard place"--in some spot where you can control its spread and where it will not swamp smaller plants. Euphorbia myrsinites This is the culprit--public enemy number one! The weed police may put a placard on your door (and you may be put in stocks and pilloried) if you happen to have this in your garden. There was a time when this had naturalized a few hundred feet east of Boulder where it has been largely extirpated. But it can also be found sparingly in the foothills--at least in Jefferson and Boulder counties. Nurseries no longer sell this plant, and you would be hard put to find it. But I have to say, I am rather pleased a few dozen gardeners around the Denver area have retained this plant. Kids just love it (doesn't it look menacingly reptilian?) Euphorbia myrsinites Here you can see it's made quite a colony along the street in Northwest Denver. I haven't observed that it spreads unduly in places like this, and this garden has an no-water border where this is a welcome addition. I think it would be a shame if this old passalong plant disappeared entirely from Denver--especially this time of year when it's glorious golden hypanthia (that's the technical term for a Euphorbia flower, by the way) are so alluring! If you do choose to remove your plants, be sure to wear gloves and not get any of the milky sap on your skin and especially in your eyes. The sap can produce a severe dermatitis in some people, and juice in the eyes can be very painful, and potentially dangerous to your eyesight. In other words, exercise caution! Euphorbia myrsinites Oh well, if the weed meanies do get rid of the last of these, we can just recite Frost's old poem: "Nothing Gold can Stay...".</p>
Iris 'Katharine Hodgkin' In the last few weeks, a few crocuses here...a few snowdrops there...it's been slim pickens! But suddenly with the last few warm days the Gardens are practically exploding: each day brings dozens more flowers. I've seen the first daffodils blooming gloriously inside the Mordecai Children's Garden as well as on the parking berm. Waterlily tulips are opening up everywhere. There are Magnolias opening up around town, Cornelian cherries are at their peak and the apricots and almonds and other early Prunus</em> are teasing their first buds open. Soon we will have the whole nine-yards--Spring in her full glory parading everywhere. This magic moment, just before the figurative floodgates burst--this is perhaps the most perfect moment of the year. The garden is cleaned up and everything is shiny and promising and new. And this is the time when the glorious throng of reticulate irises are bursting into bloom here and there throughout Denver Botanic Gardens. closeup of Iris 'Katharine Hodgkin' If you grow but one reticulate iris, may I recommend 'Katharine Hodgkin'? I tell her full story elsewhere more expansively. Because she is a hybrid between two rather distinct species, she possesses what botanists call heterosis</strong></em>, or hybrid vigor. She has formed wonderful clumps in the O'Fallon Perennial Walk that are in peak form right now. Our horticulturists have planted her liberally throughout both sides of York Street, so expect her to be ever more evident in future years. If you look carefully at this closeup, you will see some streaking. Undoubtedly due to some of the genes between the two parents struggling, as it were, in the offspring (either that, or perhaps a virus. I hope it's the family squabble rather than the latter!). Here are pictures of the two parents: Iris winogradowii Surely the rarest, and one of the most mythical of all iris is this, the yellow reticulata</em> cousin from the Caucasus. Now listed in the IUCN Red Book of endangered species, this is only found in a tiny part of an alpine mountain range--only a few hundred plants persisting in nature. Fortunately, there are thousands in cultivation (you can even buy them mail order rather reasonably!). If you do choose to spend a few hundred dollars on these, be aware that this species needs a rather rich, acid soil in part shade that never dries out. This is not for the beginner! Iris histrioides 'Major' Here is the other parent: Iris histrioides</em> is only known from a few mountain summits in Turkey, but has been grown and distributed by Dutch nurseries for almost a hundred years. We have had it for over twenty years in the Rock Alpine Garden where this was photographed a few years ago. I regard this as the most sumptuous and magnificent of the reticulate species. Alas, it is hard to find nowadays in catalogs and does not always perform well in many people's gardens. So you may have to settle for one of the dozens of true Iris reticulata, </em>which are pretty wonderful as well. I am intrigued how 'Katharine Hodgkin' manages to transform the dark blue of histrioides</em> into a translucent, azure sea blue-green. The yellow qualities of winogradowii</em> are expressed through the chartreuse undertone and those wonderful golden patches. In painting, blue and yellow produce green--things are a tad more subtle and complicated in flowers. There are other hybrids gaining currency in the trade, but 'Katharine Hodgkin' seems thus far to be the most subtle combination and most readily available. I finish the blog with a glimpse of the enormous clumps of this you can find throughout the O'Fallon Perennial Walk here and there this week. I am dazzled to see how many different bulbs have been packed into this garden by previous horticulturists, and how well they have persisted despite the intense planting in this amazing garden. I know these massive clumps have inspired me to plant lots of this terrific bulb in my garden. What better way to celebrate spring as it shifts into high gear! vroom Vroom VROOOOOOOM!</p>
Winter is almost over, however there are still lots of options for enjoying the Gardens. Be sure to see some of the thousands of spring bulbs that are starting to bloom throughout the Gardens! The Mordecai Children’s Garden just opened for the season. If you have kids, the Children’s Garden is an obvious choice to visit because of the swaying bridge, the mini-theater, and the view of the Gardens and the Rocky Mountains from the Lookout. Even if you don’t have children, the Children’s Garden is a really great example of a large scale, green roof alpine garden. The Mordecai Children’s Garden is conveniently located across the street from our York Street location and is open March through November. If you live further south, Denver Botanic Gardens at Chatfield is another good choice. I also recommend Chatfield if you want to escape from the city for a while. Denver Botanic Gardens at Chatfield is a working farm, with over five acres dedicated to growing produce for our Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program. The area also has significant historical interest, including the Hildebrand Ranch, the restored dairy barn and silo, and a one-room 1874 Deer Creek Schoolhouse. Our Chatfield location is at C-470 and Wadsworth. My favorite time to visit Denver Botanic Gardens is right after it snows. Everything is white and sparkly. There’s less foot traffic through the Gardens. Everything looks different under a coating of snow. Lots of shapes and textures in the Gardens keep things visually interesting. The Japanese Garden in particular is stunning in the snow. This time of year, you can even sometimes see flowers poking out from underneath the snow. Membership to Denver Botanic Gardens has great value. In addition to helping make Denver a better community, supporting children and adult education programs, supporting our research on Colorado plants, and generally helping us achieve our mission of connecting people to plants, membership gives you free access to all of these locations: York Street, Mordecai Children’s Garden and Denver Botanic Gardens at Chatfield. Kim Brokling, Membership Coordinator</em></p>
In February I’m usually in the Exhibits office at Denver Botanic Gardens putting together the interpretive messages that will appear in signage and audio tours in the busy season ahead. This year, I’m lucky enough to spend a week in Pasadena at the Huntington Library, Art Collections and Botanical Gardens doing a workshop on plant-based interactive exhibition design. Funded by an IMLS grant, the gracious team at the Huntington is walking (more like running!) us through the process it used to create its conservatory exhibition, Plants Are Up to Something. The exhibition invites visitors to take a closer look at live plants, often using tools and techniques of scientists. In the coming year, I’ll be working with horticulture staff to create three small interactive exhibits in the Gardens on various topics. My favorite experiences of gardening and plant biology have always been hands-on activities, from planting, watering, and weeding to microscopy, dissections, and DNA extraction. I’m hoping some visitors to the Gardens will get to know plants in a whole new way.</p>
</p> </p> It's snowdrop time again! Surely, no plant is more intimately associated with winter flowering (okay, okay--Christmas roses may be!), and none have developed such an enthusiastic folowing: there are many specialty nurseries that sell dozens, even hundreds of kinds of snowdrops. Almost exactly a year ago I told the story of a snowdrop that fetched hundreds of dollars at Ebay auction. But truth be said, all snowdrops are precious this time of winter!</p> </p> Galanthus elwesii at Denver Botanic Gardens</p> The plant that now constitute our most robust colony behind the Succulent House along the Cheesman gate were originally used as "fillers" in a lobby court display: I rescued them and planted a couple dozen bulbs some twenty years ago. Each bulb has proliferated and this is now beginning to make quite a spectacle. Starting up just now (go check it out!). Here is a closeup of the commoner species that is abundant in the wild across much of Europe. I have grown this for over a half century at various homes--it spreads abundantly in Colorado as well--but believe me, this isn't a weed. You can always find homes for this plant. I remember this as a child in my parents home--just a few clumps here and there that spread to cover square yards by the time I was in college... Here you can see now Sandy Snyder (who worked at Denver Botanic Gardens for 17 years in the 1980's and 1990's) has managed to naturalize one of the tougher sorts in her sparsely watered buffalo grass in sun! Generally, they are recommended for shady spots where they get periodic irrigation, but many species are Mediterranean littoral plants that grow in areas that have no water from April to November. I suspect we could find sorts that would thrive with no supplemental irrigation. Three of many books recently published about Snowdrops: </p> </p> </p> By the way, if you Google "snowdrop" you will find a host of novels, mysteries and other books named for these winter beauties--they are obviously popular--especially in Europe. By the way, all the snowdrop monographs have glowing reviews--and the prices are beginning to get astronomical--obviously the time to invest in snowdrop futures! Remember to order some for planting next fall (the plants of course--not the books).</p>
When you decide to become a member of Denver Botanic Gardens, you might be thinking about the many visits you will enjoy with friends and family: enjoying the Orchid Showcase and the Boettcher Memorial Tropical Conservatory on a cold blustery day in the winter, the warm evening strolls in the summer, getting delightfully lost in the autumn Corn Maze at Denver Botanic Gardens at Chatfield Farms, the year-round discounts at The Shop at the Gardens and the Hive Bistro, or taking children or grandchildren to have a day of play and discovery at Mordecai Children’s Garden.</p> </p> What might not occur to you is this: In addition to providing yourself with a full year of opportunities, you are also helping to provide a cultural non-profit organization with an imperative source of revenue. Denver Botanic Gardens is a living museum that serves as a source of education, entertainment and inspiration for the community at large.</p> The funds procured each year through membership sales allow Denver Botanic Gardens to continually flourish and improve the environment and programs we offer to our visitors--members and non-members alike. The many benefits you receive as a member are our way of saying thank you for your support.</p> We feel membership should never be taxing; though you should always consult your tax professional regarding the deductibility of a membership purchase. Membership categories up to and including the Four Seasons level ($1,250.00) are considered a charitable donation and have no fair market value for tax reporting purposes. We could not be all we are without the ongoing support of our members.</p> Join or renew today to do something beneficial for yourself, the community, and for an organization that strives every day to embrace and expand on its core values of transformation, relevance, diversity and sustainability.</p>
