Tropical Surprises

I don't want to forget to relate that while I was communing with the art of tropical gardening during my time at Marie Selby Botanical Gardens, I also learned a bit, ever the student thirsty for knowledge.  For one thing, I was fascinated by these large seed pods hanging from a trellis in the orchid room.  What were they, mangoes?  Some form of papaya?  There was no botanical marker that I could find at the base of the small tree they came from, so I finally had to search out a Marie Selby docent for the identification.

These, my friends are cocoa pods, just starting to ripen with the delicious seeds that will eventually become my favorite candies. I had seen them before, growing almost wild in Granada, but I had never seen them ripen.  Here, at last, is a reason to have a winter home in Florida; chocolate ready to pick off the tree!  Well, perhaps some processing would be involved, but still!   What will they think of next, vanilla from orchids?

Another surprise botanical treat on my visit was the finding, first, of bananas growing on an actual banana tree.  This bunch of bananas was badly beaten and broken down, but all the same they looked like they would someday be nourishing.  I was tempted to pick a fruit to compare tastes with the store-bought variety, but one never knows, these days, when a surveillance camera can be lurking and I don't need Homeland Security to open yet another file about me.

My largest botanical wonderment greeted me, however, from an adjacent tree; this incredible display of a banana flower ready to open and be fertilized so that the crown of ovaries above could bear fruit.  What a prehistoric feeling one gets while staring at this 8 inch long and plump blatant display of pure sexual reproduction brazenly free and open to the tropical air.  One glances behind oneself at a first glimpse and would not be surprised to see a Velocirapter creeping up to make a Mesozoic meal of modern man. What I'd give to be there now, a week later to see the flower open in all its musky splendor.

I had no idea, all these years of eating bananas, of the mechanics of the process.  Flower heavy and fecund, ovaries patiently presented for fertilization.  Once the world hits on a good pattern, it never lets go, eh?    

I Told Them So

I tried to warn them. I really did.  You heard me just a week or so back, right here on this blog.  "Hush little darlings" I said, "Go back to slumber, it's too early."  Well, see them now, regretting their decision to open up quite so early.  Mother Nature strikes once more.  Now that I think about it, I believe I have taken a picture of daffodils covered by a little snow every year I have lived here. The impatient little devils!

I was hopelessly praying that my Magnolia stellata would hold off, but alas, this latest cold spell and bit of snow hit just when its display was at its peak.  I so wish I had taken a picture of the shrub yesterday before the blossoms browned and withered, if only for bragging rights.












Even worse, the musky scent is gone, vanished, without a trace from the flowers reduced to brown tissue.

I can only still hope that the few remaining unopened buds of the Magnolia keep their beauty and their fragrance hidden until better days appear.





And this apricot will certainly not be a producer this year.  There is a reason that Kansas is not a major exporter of apricots and you are witnessing it.

Still, however, the apricot blossoms and snow make a really nice photo composition, don't they?  Click on the closeup photo of the apricot blossoms and blow it up in all its splendor.  Wow, what subtle pastel colors!











And then there are the Scilla and the Siberian iris, peeking sky blue and purple out above their snowy feet.  Good gracious, can we just start spring over again?











I say again, "Garden, go back to sleep".  There will be time later for all this foolishness.  Let sleeping gnomes lie.

Marie Selby Botanical Gardens (Photo Heavy)

I find it surprising that I've blogged now for a blue million years and haven't ever mentioned Marie Selby Botanical Gardens.  My parents have a vacation home just south of Sarasota, and so I visit Selby Botanical on almost an annual basis, an oasis of peace for me amid the tumult of vacation.  In fact, I was just there in late February, a planned break from the Kansas winter even though in the 5 days I was in Florida it was only a few degrees warmer there than Kansas.  If you've never been to Selby, it's well worth a couple of hours and the $20 admission to stroll the gardens, and even worth the extra $5 to tour the Selby Mansion on the grounds if you're into such domestic arrangements.  First and foremost, of course, one should appreciate orchids, the centerpiece of the Selby indoor conservatory.


I, myself, have always been a little partial to the blue or purple vandas.  I don't know why, I just am.










In the orchid house, these large containers "spilling" with a cascade of orchids make a fabulously creative display.








Even here at Selby, one cannot seem to escape the abominations of social media.  This "selfie stop", as declared by the sign, is a popular place for photos;  in fact I had to wait around for 5 minutes to get a picture of it without people around.  At least it hasn't been discovered, to my knowledge, by the Kardashians as yet.  Thank god the "K's" don't seem to be gardeners.










The larger grounds at Selby are fantastic.  Here, at a fork in the path, the bamboos grow taller than trees.















And, surprising to me, this arid succulent display does quite well here in a tropical climate.









I seem to spend a lot of my Selby time admiring the garden ornaments as much as the flora, however.  This little mushroom/toad house/fairy home drew me back again and again.













There are water features in several areas, but none worked better for me than this waterfall.  I played with exposure for softening the falls, but the real art was hiding in the little water nymph beneath the ferns.

Another statue, this "Mayan" figurine, called to me from its hidden grotto back in the orchid house.

This year I visited on a cloudy day, but the diffused light made for some marvelous photography at times.  These dark salvias made a nice photo for me against the storm in the distance, while changing the exposure really made them pop from the background.  Several visitors seemed to think these were lavender, but I kept my know-it-all trap shut.  No reason to spoil their enjoyment.

A low-lying swampy pool near the mansion, however, gave me what I thought was the best photo of the day;  a water lily to rival Monet for sheer beauty.

So, if you get near Sarasota, Florida, go ahead and feel free to drop the family off at the Ringling Bros. Circus Museum and go over to where the fun really exists;  at Marie Selby Botanical Gardens!

Seeds of a Revisionist Garden

In my "revisionist" gardening mode, for the first time in years, I am attempting some indoor seed-starts.  Normally, I'm a dismal failure at indoor propagation, failing both at getting the seeds to sprout (I tend to keep the soil too moist), and in the hardening-off transition to the outdoors.  It is the latter failure that I most dread.  I occasionally get some decent seedlings going of this or that plant, only to see them crash and burn outside because I put them in too much sun and then forget to water them.  I actually feel pity for most seedlings placed in my hands.

I was spurred into action by a colorful rack of organic seeds at the Selby Botanic Gardens last week (more on that soon), when I came across an open-bred zucchini named 'Dark Star', which listed its attributes as drought-tolerant and open habit.  Dare I hope that it might also be a little more resistant to my ubiquitious squash bugs?  With nothing to lose, I purchased a package, transported it into flyover country, and planted half the packet (10/20 seeds) last Saturday.  This morning, lo and behold, there be zucchini seedlings here!

Somewhere, I've missed the zucchini breeding revolution that resulted in 'Dark Star'.   Bred by Bill Reynolds and Donna Ferguson of Eel River Farms, and released by Seeds of Change in 2007, 'Dark Star' is a less variable selection of 'Black Eel', the latter a cross of 'Black Beauty' and 'Raven'.   Really, it's quite a story and you can read about it at the Organic Seed Alliance.  Truthfully, however, knowing nothing of the story behind it, it was the seed packet that lured me to an impulse purchase.


I also have an itch this year to do a better job at growing flowering sweet peas than my previous efforts.  Rather than just throwing them into the cold March ground, praying that the rabbits leave them to grow, and then hoping they flower before the hot Kansas sun fries them into oblivion, I chose to try to start them indoors.  Hopefully, that will give them about a month's head start over normal growing conditions and I can likely transplant them within just a couple of weeks into a much nicer, manure-enriched bed than my regular alkaline clay-pot soil .  I just hope my new seed setup, in a direct southern window supplemented by a pair of daylight-frequency LED spots, is up to the task.

Oh, and if you liked the term "revisionist gardening," stay tuned because I might just copyright it and continue to write in that mode.  It comes from a deep place in my gardening soul right now.