From May through October this year, my colleague Ellyse Varone and I scouted, identified and collected seeds from more than 30 populations of 18 different species. We overcame many hurdles—collecting through a pandemic, a late June freeze and early September snowfall, insect and ungulate herbivory, drought and fires—and all while short-handed with limited time and a limited collection area. Despite the many factors that may have held us back, we successfully completed the 30 seed collections required of us for the Seeds of Success program and planned more seed collections for the month of October. </p> Some collections had been planned for months, awaiting inflorescences to flower and flowers to seed. Other collections occurred spur of the moment where we found plants both in flower and in seed and were able to complete a full collection in a few unscheduled hours. We traveled among five Colorado counties: Routt, Larimer, Jackson, Grand and Eagle. Eagle County was experiencing the height of Colorado’s drought this summer and proved the most difficult county to collect in. While there, we encountered impassable roads, sudden dead ends, popped tires and turns too tight to maneuver. </p> However, Eagle County did prove to be plentiful for showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa</em>). This was one of our simplest collections requiring only 80 seed pods and about 20 minutes of collecting to gather more than 10,000 seeds. Before their pods dehisce (split open), the showy milkweed seeds resemble fish scales. The vegetative parts of the plant bleed a milky white latex when cut or bruised. </p> We arrived at these plants just in time before their seed pods opened and their tufted seeds flew on the wind to populate places far and wide to aid the monarch butterflies’ migration through North and Central America. Yellow owl’s clover (Orthocarpus luteus</em>) proved to be one of our most difficult collections, requiring us to crawl on hands and knees to inspect each 10-centemeter plant to collect more than 1,700 tiny seed pods to reach our goal. </p> We ran into many challenges over the summer and still collected well over 300,000 seeds to be included in the Seeds of Success library of seeds where they will await their turns to revegetate and repopulate native plant communities. In our changing and uncertain world, it is great to know that we have contributed to the success of future restoration projects unbeknownst to us. </p>
The first time I saw the sagebrush shrub steppe of North America, my mind melted. I grew up in a lush part of the country where tall shade trees blocked out the sky, we regularly lamented rain and the color green was taken for granted. The intense silver glow of the arid West was alien and exotic to my eyes and I instantly fell in love.</p> Plants have developed silver appearances as a reaction to the desiccating effects of sunlight and drought. Silver, grey, white and blue colorings of plants are the results of growing trichomes (plant hair), increased wax exudations on their surfaces or genetic mutations of cell colors called variegation. All of these adaptations help plants retain moisture and keep their cells cooler by increasing their surface albedo, their ability to reflect sunlight.</p> The American West is not alone in its glory of argent shrubbery. The world’s desert, Mediterranean, alpine and other steppe regions (Middle Asia, Patagonia, Argentina and Southern Africa) also hold their own wealth of silvers, and we’ve been zealously collecting these incredible beings in the Steppe Garden.</p> Begin exploring our collection by walking beneath the cottonwood trees on the eastern edge of the Steppe Garden.</strong> Look for the long white stems and yellow flowers of rabbitbrush (Ericameria nauseosa</em>) emerging from the shortgrass prairie.</li> Head north on the curving gravel pathway.</strong> To your left you’ll see the Southern African Helichrysum trilineatum</em>, a small silver mound, full of yellow flowers.</li> Then, just beyond, exploding around the edges of the garden’s spinal stones, the fine-leaved Gomphostigma virgatum</em>.</li> Walk a bit further </strong>and you’ll see a collection of steppe shrubs—the shimmering and columnar Shepherdia argentea </em>‘Totem’; the three-lobed, almost-white Artemisia cana</em>; and the soft and sprawling Artemisia ludoviciana</em>—all extremely important plants in our local shrub steppe ecosystem.</li> At the end of this path</strong>, under the boughs of Austrian pine, you’ll see a small plant with thick, pearly leaves. This is Shepherdia rotundifolia</em>, usually a resident of areas further southwest than Denver, but surviving in our colder climate, none-the-less.</li> Continue following the westerly curve of the pathway</strong> to the Middle Asian section of the Steppe Garden to the tall and graceful Caragana microphylla </em>‘Mongolian Silver Spires’. Look, but don’t get too close, as tiny thorns protect this shrub from grazing animals.</li> Cut southeast on the gravel path </strong>that runs between the two Middle Asian garden beds to see the ultra-white and very fragrant Helichrysum maracandicum</em>, </em>which, when gently touched, gives off the scent of curry spices!</li> Journey across the canal to the Patagonian sections of the Steppe Garden </strong>to glimpse our last three shrubs, all from the important steppe genus of asters, Senecio</em>, including S. patagonicus</em>, S. filaginoides</em> and S. bracteolatus</em>.</li> </ul> Now, with your eyes attuned to the beauty of silver, continue exploring the gleaming shrubs of the Gardens.</p>
My internship did not happen the way I expected: masks, social distancing, cancelled events and field trips. As the Therapeutic Horticulture Intern, I dreamed of working with a variety of people in therapeutic programs to figure out if I want to become a certified horticultural therapist. 2020 had other plans. Typically, the therapeutic horticulture intern observes, leads and creates new programs that connect people with themselves and plants. However, I had to overcome the challenge of distance (and distancing) and come up with a project that would be safe, sanitary and possibly done from home. Luckily, I was able to learn from and bounce ideas off my mentor, Manager of Therapeutic Horticulture Programs Angie Andrade. </p> I was inspired by the idea of the language of flowers, which connects the inherent beauty of flowers with associated meanings, to create a reflection sheet—a list of thought-provoking questions accompanied by a photo of the flower being discussed—that could be used in future therapeutic programs. These reflection sheets will help get participants socially engaged and connected with themselves and others. </p> While the language of flowers seems like a light subject on its own, the meanings I chose to dive into get heavy quickly. I chose five flowers to discuss: yellow rose (friendship), yarrow (healing inspiration), black-eyed Susan (justice), chamomile (energy in adversity) and red & white rose together (unity). Each flower choice is meant to address COVID-19 and racial tension/injustice. </p> Below is an example of the content I have created for people to reflect on their experiences in 2020: </p> Yellow Rose—Friendship </h4> Friend – a person attached to another by feelings of affection; a supporter Rosa </em>‘Wekvossutono’ —Julia Child Rose </p> Reflection questions: </p> What first comes to mind / feelings you have when you notice a yellow rose? </li> How has COVID-19 affected your friendships and close relationships? How did you have to adjust? Are you still adjusting? </li> Reflect on your gratitude for friendship. Reach out to a friend and share what their friendship has meant to you. </li> </ol> Nature has a unifying power in times of intense division. Mental health is always important, but especially during this global pandemic and the anti-racism movement. </p> I invite you to take the time to slow down, contemplate and appreciate the beauty that persists even in difficult times. Tend the garden of your heart. Take a moment to reflect. How can you lift others up? I believe that asking yourself good questions and processing your feelings will give your heart the rest and perspective needed to keep going in this fight. This post was written by Rudi Wimberley, therapeutic horticulture intern. Rudi is a senior at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, majoring in Plant Sciences with a concentration in Sustainable Landscape Design. She grew up in a small rural town called Paris in Tennessee. She hopes to continue pursuing her passion for people, plants, and art through a career in landscape design after graduation. </em> </p>
Sweet: Her happy-go-lucky disposition, endearing awkwardness, and ability to make you feel like the most special person in the room. </p> Bitter: The gaping, empty space she has left behind.</p> 2020 has been a collective experience in massive loss. There is the loss of “normal” life: getting together with friends, going to restaurants and movie theaters and sporting events, handshakes, hugs. The loss, for some, of businesses beloved or businesses owned. Of jobs and a sense of security. The loss of acres and acres of land, trees, homes, wildlife and humans to raging fires. There is the incomprehensible loss of life due to COVID-19—around the world, in the U.S., within Colorado and for some, in families. And there is the loss of loved ones whose time has come naturally. </p> It is said that on November 1 and 2 the veil between this world and the spirit world is thinnest. This is when the souls of our loved ones traverse the distance between worlds to visit us. The Mexican tradition of Día de los Muertos—the Day of the Dead—takes place on these days to observe loss by celebrating life. Bright colors, armloads of orange flowers, butterflies, rich foods and big festivals full of music, dance and unique, skeleton-based iconography mark this holiday. </p> At the heart of it all is the altar: the sacred space of honor dedicated to departed loved ones.</p> And while the big celebration and joyful coming together is important, so, too, is quiet remembrance and the placing of ofrendas </em>(offerings) on the altar.</p> Particularly this year, observing Día by creating an altar may be a healing experience. You may even want to honor a place or a part of life prior to COVID-19 that you’re mourning.</p> To begin, find a flat surface and drape a cloth over it (Día is a joyful celebration, so it’s okay use something colorful). Place photos of your departed loved ones (or something that represents a place or experience) on it. Fill the altar with things they enjoyed in life—toys, jewelry, their favorite album, sports memorabilia. Whatever makes you think of them. </p> Next, add traditional elements to the altar. Papel picado</em></a> are multi-colored tissue paper garlands that represent the fragility of life. Marigolds</a> attract spirits back with their scent. Elaborately decorated sugar skulls</a> and calaveras </em>(skeletons) remind us that death is part of life, and to feel joy and happiness for the lives our loved ones lived, rather than dwell on the grief of their passing. </p> Finally, light candles to illuminate the spirits’ path and burn incense to help guide them. Place their favorite drink on the altar to quench their thirst after their journey. They’ll be hungry, too, so don’t forget their favorite food (traditional foods include pan de muerto</em>, mole and tamales, but you can use whatever your loved ones enjoyed in life). </p> Whether you safely gather with others, join friends and family over Zoom, or are spending Día de los Muertos by yourself, take time to reflect on your love and loss. Share special memories, listen to their favorite music, sit in silent contemplation. Cry if it helps—but don’t be afraid to laugh. This is the balance between the bitter and the sweet. </p> </p>
The Gardens’ mission is to connect people with plants. The actions we take in pursuit of that mission are guided by our core values, one of which remains especially relevant today: diversity. We have an incredible and obvious diversity among our plant collections, but we also strive for a diversity in the people we are connecting with those plants. </p> Many items in the Helen Fowler Library sit at the intersection of people and plants, as a lot of our books can give us more than just the botanical information found within their pages; they retain cultural and historical associations with their authors, printers and publishers. We have books from all over the world – representing almost 30 different languages – in both our circulating and historical collections, and some of the stories we uncover when we look more closely at them are fascinating. </p> </picture> </div> </div> </article> Take, for instance, our late 19th century copy of “Flora de Filipinas” – the work as a whole is made up of four text installments composed in Manila and two volumes of plates printed in Barcelona, all completed less than 20 years before the Philippines declared its independence from Spain. All the text is in both Latin and Spanish.</p> The chief illustrator of “Flora de Filipinas”, Regino García y Baza (1840-1916), was a Spanish mestizo artist and botanist. García headed a team of 12 Filipino and five Spanish artists, all of whom were born in the Philippines or had been living and working there for a while prior to the start of the project. They were all trained in the styles of Don Agustín Sáez y Glanadell and Don Lorenzo Rocha é Icaza, a very precise and academic training that ensured accurate depictions of the plants. </p> </picture> </div> </div> </article> </p> </picture> </div> </div> </article> Those working on “Flora de Filipinas” did so during an interesting time in Spanish and Filipino history. The work was published in fascicles</a> between 1877 and 1883. In 1872, there had been a small Filipino revolt against Spanish rule. In 1880 one of the artists, Lorenzo Guerrero y Leogardo (1835-1904), received an award from Spain for his art but refused to wear Western clothes and instead sported the Filipino barong tagalog as a show of nationalism for the pinning ceremony. </p> The chief illustrator, García, was one of two artists working on “Flora de Filipinas” later appointed to the Malolos Congress that ratified the Proclamation of Philippine Independence in 1898. Much of García’s work was lost when the United States bombed Manila during World War II but around 100 plates of his work can still be found in this book. </p> </picture> </div> </div> </article> </h3> </picture> </div> </div> </article> </h3> Explore more!</h3> A copy of this work in the Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid has been digitized and is available online for anyone to view. While the Helen Fowler Library’s copy has black and white line drawings (with some hand-coloring added later), Madrid’s digitized version is one of the 500 copies that was issued in full color. Visit links in the library’s online catalog</a> to decide which volume you’ll be exploring first! </p>
