Morton Arboretum II

I mentioned a few arboretums in the previous essay. Before turning to the Morton, I mention a few others I have visited. The University of Wisconsin, Madison Arboretum has tons of identified trees/bushes, etc., but you really have to "work" for them--often climibing among branches to find the elusive tag hanging from a "South-facing" branch. Many times the tag isn't there or has been damaged in the 50-60 years it has been hanging. The gardeners working on the native garden, however, were extremely helpful in identifying the native species for me. I was especially delighted that one of them wanted to tell me about the four species of Silphium, a native genus including rosinweed, prairie dock and a few others. These tall yellow natives can grow more than 10' in height.

I made the bad decision of wearing shorts and a t-shirt to roam through the U of WI Arboretum late in a summer afternoon. By the time I had traipsed back and forth for 90 minutes almost every part of my uncovered anatomy was itching to such an extent that I had to stop. Would that the Scabiosa flower (known popularly as the "pincushion flower"), which is so named because Native American healers used it to reduce "scabies"--itching--were avaiable. But, alas, it wasn't. So I limped to my car, dove in the front seat, turned the air conditioner on "high," and began to itch uncontrollably, all the time saying one of my favorite lines from Greek mythology, "The shirt of Nessus is upon me." This latter reference, in case you didn't know, refers to Hercules' vain attempt to remove a poisoned shirt from his body which had been given him by Nessus, personifying a river, as a "gift." But it was a poisoned gift, and it literally made Hercules tear off his skin. For about 10 minutes I sought relief in this scabious activity (to be distinguished from a scabrous activity), until relief came.

I loved the Bernheim Arboetum south of Louisville, KY, but again it was limited in its native plants. The University of Kentucky Arboretum/Garden on Alumni Drive in Lexington is a pleasant spot which is a great place to spend a day. One has the sense, however, that you could spend weeks in the Morton Arboretum and be learning all the time. Though the admission price is steep ($11, except for Wednesday, when it is $7.50), the amount of learning one can gain there is immense. Rows of identified bushes and flowers greet you; the visitor center has several "hands on" exhibits for all ages; pleasant short walks among native and ornamental plants and flowers bring you yet more knowledge, while various plantings of different types of identified trees on thousands of acres exhaust the most eager searcher for arboreal and floral knowledge.

The staff is uniformly helpful. I experienced this in two ways. When I was walking among the conifers, trying to distinguish among stone pines and white pines and other pines, I came across an attractive multi-trunked, reddish pine tree which I knew I had previously seen, but couldn't identify. On the tree was a tag saying Fagus sylvatica--the European Beech--which I knew was wrong. I sought out one of the garden crew, and the woman in charge came right away with me to identify it as a tanyosho pine, or Japanese red pine (Pinus densiflora). She thanked me for my trouble. Many people try either to cover up or ignore their mistakes, even if pointed out, but she seemed generally to appreciate this help from me.

Then, I noted in several of the 25 or so planters, where all kinds of cool flowers and small trees/bushes were planted together, a small card saying that if we wanted a list of all the plants and flowers in these planters we just had to go to the "Plant Center" and ask for it. Emboldened by the invitation, I went into the Center and asked for the list. The woman in charge didn't know what I meant. I rather expected this. It would have been quite rare had the right and left hands known what each was doing. So, she kindly found a staff member who showed me brochures from a few years ago, but said that they didn't do it anymore--and that the flowers had been changed. I pressed on, "Certainly there is a list of the flowers in each of the planters." She thought for a moment, disappeared and then re-appeared with a notebook listing the contents of the 25 planters. I asked her for a photocopy, which she supplied free of charge. I rushed out, bending and separating flowers to the bewildered stares of onlookers, finding mistakes here and there but, mostly, confimring what was written and learning things I didn't know. I was tremendously grateful that someone had removed this little learning obstacle from before me.

What I Found in the Pots

The "theory" of flower-pot design was to have a large "anchor" tree or plant and then a series of ever-smaller flowers until one reached a groundcover, sedge or grass. For example, some of the larger items were ginkgo trees, a pearlbush (Exochorda racemosa--Bush gardens in Salem, my home town, has such a bush), a crabapple, pennisetum, japanese maple, crinum lily, red abyssinian banana (Musa), dracaena, or taro (Colocasia--elephant ears).

What I really loved about reviewing all the flower pots, however, were all the flowers, some of which I really hadn't known very well previously. For example, there was a "fireworks Gomphrena," or Gomphrena globulosa (globe amaranth), pictured here. I was delighted to learn the name of the Colchester White Centaurea, pictured here. At first you might think it is similar to a "Dusty Miller" or an Artemisia, but the leaves look so different from both. I also learned for the first time about the Cleome, pictured here. Note that the Cleome is comparable to the Scaevola only in this, that apparently about four (or half) of the petals are missing. As this site says, the Seniorita Rosalita brand of the Cleome was the 2009 Mississippi Medallion award-winner. I suppose that is what I liked about the planters; I could be assured that I was being exposed to the absolutely most recent winners in the ornamental flower categories.

I take all this with a little grain of salt--i.e., I want to learn them all, and learn why they were developed so that I can "ooh and "aah" over them when I see them at friends' places, but in fact, I just want togain this knowledge so that I can lay it aside and probe much deeper into my plant and tree knowledge.

More Quickly Now

One that calls for comment is the fiber optic grass or Isolepis cernua, pictured here. The word cernua or cernuus is useful to know about-it means "bending" though not as completely bent as pendulous. The latter means something that is "upside down," while the former means "tipped slightly." This fiber optic grass is only "tipped slightly," with its threadlike grass topped by a small white bud. In its bud formation it differs from the Juncus effusa, pictured here, which has a much more developed, and knotty, knobby top than the fiber optic grass. The "classic" distinction on my mind between a cernuous and pendulous flower is the difference between the Datura and the Brugmansia. Look 'em up....

Then there is the more recently-developed plant New Yoey Ptilotus (the word means "wing-like"), pictured here, and the white Gazania, pictured here. The latter is such an attractive flower that more care should be taken to place and cultivate it. Finally, the "Cats Whispers" Orthosiphon is fascinating because one can almost "see" the whiskers, at least in this picture. The flower is a Viet Nam native; it is about time that we realized that Viet Nam offered us something after we pretty much ravaged their country in the 1960s-1970s.

I think my expositions of what I saw at the Arboretum should be much more extensive. Let's try to confine everything else to one or two more essays.

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