Elder

Perhaps my camera should break every January. I mean, really: who wants to look at dreary photos of plants in a bleak, wintry landscape when we can reminisce about warmer days?

Like the day in May that I took this photo of Sambucus nigra, or elder, or elderberry, growing in the Liz Christy Garden:


The flowers are beautiful, creamy white corymbs. Corymbs are flat-topped flower structures. The most popular flower structure of course (after the simple flower), is the panicle, which is a cone-shaped flower. Paniculata is a popular species name as it refers to this flower shape. Other flower structures include racemes, spikes, catkins, spadices, and umbels.


The flowers and the black-colored (thus, S. "nigra") elderberries that follow are non-toxic, however the rest of the plant is poisonous if ingested raw in high quantities. When processed into a syrup, the plant has been proven to reduce some cold and flu symptoms. But, don't try that at home, kids.

The flowers are used in drinks such as an elderflower cordial and the equally-obviously named Sambuca. The berries, like many others, are used in jams and jellies.

Agave Americana

When I posted about Brugmansia I mentioned that the horticulturist at Central Park Zoo likes to experiment with marginally hardy plant materials. Agave americana is another plant in this category.

Agave americana is also called century plant, because this plant only blooms every ten years or so, and we all like a little hyperbole. When the plant does bloom it sends a very tall stalk into the air, high enough above the ground to protect the blossom from terrestrial predators. After the plant blooms, it dies.

If one were to cut the bloom's stem before the flower had opened, one could collect a sap - called agua miel (honey water) - ferment it and create a drink called pulque. Agave americana's cousin, Agave tequilana is of course responsible for a drink called tequila.

Beach Conifers

I went to the Jersey shore last weekend with the hopes of getting some surfing in before the water got really cold. Alas, a quick look at the ocean confirmed my fears that the stormy weather had rendered the waves unsurfable.



So instead, I took a long walk and got some photos of plants that are typical to a beach location in the mid-Atlantic. I'll post a few more shots next week as I wait for the Manhattan fall color to really queue up. Today, we'll look at a few conifers.



Above you can see a small Juniperus virginiana, or eastern redcedar, in the foreground and a larger one further back. Redcedars aren't expressly dune plants but instead are considered colonial or pioneer plants. Their seeds are often deposited by birds in disturbed or nutrient-poor landscapes like sand dunes and the edges of highways. The saplings survive the tough conditions and provide habitat for more birds and small mammals, which in turn brings more plant diversity. (That's a very abridged version of an aspect of forest succession.)



Like other junipers, this plant has the distinctively aromatic berries which will immediately remind some of you of gin. Many mistakenly believe gin is made from these berries, but instead gin is a grain alcohol that is flavored with the berries.


Junipers can be tough to ID if no berries are present; one could confuse a juniper with a Thuja, Chamaecyparis or Cupressus, to name a few. But, a close look at the branchlet (in this case a leaf is one individual scale, what's in my hand above is called a branchlet), shows that junipers have two different leaf types. The juvenile leaf, found at the terminal tip of the branchlet, is spikier and has a sharp tip that points away from the stem. Mature leaves are flattened down against the stem -- these are the leaves nearer to my fingers. The presence of these juvenile and mature leaves are a great way to confirm that the plant you see is Juniperus.



Another plant you often find on the beach is Pinus thunbergii, or Japanese black pine. A non-native, this plant is often encountered on beaches due to its high tolerance to salt spray and its evident low requirement for nutrients.


Pinus thunbergii's needles are stiff and smooth, found in fascicles of two. While the specimen above is fairly symmetrical, as this tree ages it can achieve a gnarled sculptural appearance due to the pruning affect of the wind.

We have become Seattleites

Yesterday marked the beginning of the three-day holiday weekend for me. So I met some friends at 230 Fifth - a somewhat pricey bar that has fantastic views of the city. It was optimistic to meet there, considering how much rain we've had in New York lately.

Before my friends arrived, it began to drizzle. A few people determinedly opened umbrellas at their seats, hoping the clouds would pass. When my first friend arrived, the deluge began. (It was perhaps the fifth storm we had yesterday -- as it seemed to rain on the hour and be clear on the half hour, as regular as a bus schedule.)

I had to respect these folks:


Then again, if I were drinking a magnum of Moet & Chandon (which they were), I wouldn't let the rain stop me, either.

Earlier in the week, I gave my students an exam where the rain was, at times, falling sideways. We submitted to it like abused children. Yesterday: more of the same. As I've mentioned before, I am so very, very tired of this weather!

But, I suppose the one silver lining around the many, many clouds we've seen is that the storms move fast. And it wasn't long before we could return to our seats.


Have a good (dry, hot) Fourth!

Central Park's Lilac Walk

It always bothered me that I had such dreary photos of Japanese Lilac Tree posted on this blog. It's a lovely tree, but the photos I took at Sarah Roosevelt Park were, well honestly, a bit dismal.

So, when I was in the Sheep Meadow last Sunday - on what may very well be our *only* sunny day in June - and I saw these beautiful, sparkling specimens, I decided to do another post on Syringa reticulata and the Lilac Walk in Central Park. In fact, it was only when I looked up the link to my previous post on this species did I realize that I wrote it exactly a year ago.


The path you see above is the Lilac Walk in Central Park. As the name suggests, the path is planted with various species of lilacs, including Syringa vulgaris, S. reticulata and S. patula. From April until June this little part of Central Park has something in bloom.


The Lilac Walk is only 39 years old -- it was created in 1970 by philanthropist Nell Singer, who passed away in 2006. The path itself leads to a (currently defunct) concession stand that was once called Mineral Springs. The site was originally conceived as a concession (and will be once again -- the Central Park Conservancy has an outstanding RFP for a Shake Shack type venue) in the late 19th Century. It was called Mineral Springs because, just as now, people were very into fresh 'high end' waters and would-be reformers thought touting the benefits of spring water would lure people away from the evils of alcohol!

Personally, it looks like a great spot for a glass of white wine.

Lonicera japonica

Coming back from the Astoria Beer Garden (the old one, not the new one), I encountered this fragrant honeysuckle thriving on an iron fence.


I have a soft spot for this plant, Lonicera japonica, primarily because I remember it from when I was a kid and, for a few years, was living on the Jersey shore. Our house abutted a salt marsh and was in a yet-t0-be-totally-developed area. We had an empty lot between our house and the neighbors' and a large honeysuckle had taken up residence there, growing on top of itself in massive heaps.

I'm not sure who told me, but I knew that you could pull out the stigma and, if your hand was steady enough, taste the droplet of nectar that came with it. It's incredibly, dizzyingly sweet. Of course the flowers, which slowly change from white to gold, have a wonderfully heady fragrance, too.


And yes: this plant is indeed quite invasive. You certainly would not want to plant it in an area where it can invade woodlands (or empty lots for that matter). But I don't think it's too sinful to enjoy a nostalgic moment in Astoria, when this particular specimen is unlikely to cause any larger environmental damage.

***

Then again, maybe not. After a bit more reading on invasive.org, I read that the original Lonicera japonica was brought to the North American continent via Queens. Oops.

Lonicera is named for a 16th century botanist, Adam Lonitzer.