Callicarpa and Penn Station (the good one)

It's always a good bet that when you see a plant full of untouched fruit in the winter, that said plant is not native. The subtext is that the non-native fruit is undesirable to the native wildlife. Things get a little muddy when you consider that some of our local wildlife is also non-native, or that deer -- a native animal -- will eat almost anything. But the concept has some merit, and if you assume the plant below is a non-native, you'd be right.



Here comes the part where I have to admit to a previous mistake (I hate that). When I last spoke about this genus, Callicarpa, I showed photos and equivocated on the species. I suggested it could be Callicarpa dichotoma or Callicarpa japonica and then I favored the latter.



Seeing these specimens at the NYBG last week, it's clear that the plant I posted on in September 2008 was Callicarpa dichotoma and this plant is C. japonica. The fruit set is decidedly different, the latter plant has fruit and flowers borne on longer cymes whereas the former has fruit set closely to the stem of the plant. Cymes, if you recall the post about linden flowers, are the small stems that connect the flower (or fruit) to the twig. Mea culpa.

Onward, to some fun models. The building below is a new addition to the NYBG train show but chances are it's a familiar building to most New Yorkers. Its familiarity is not because we see the building depicted in movies or postcards, but sadly because it was a beautiful building that the city foolishly demolished.


As you can see from the hand in the left of the photo, the model is massive. It's beautiful, too, though one has to look at some of the stunning black and white photos of the original structure to realize how lovely the building really was.



The model makers, as you can see, were very detailed. Though that man is evidently very, very tall.



Note the acorn cap on the column!

Linden Flowers

Most of us New Yorkers are beginning to lose our senses of humor about the weather we've been having. Today's June 19 and I'm pretty sure it's rained 16 days this month. Or at least, it feels like we've had rain 16 days this month. I am not at all a fan of cool weather, nor rain. I prefer my Junes warm and sunny, even a bit hot. But yesterday, in my own way, I succumbed to the climate -- I gave up my own personal stance of not acknowledging the rain -- and took some photos of Tilia tomentosa in the deluge.



Naturally very few of these turned out, and while I intensely snapped photos of the blossoms, ignoring the rain, I got a few askance looks from passersby, briefly noting and cataloguing me as another Eccentric New Yorker.


No matter. They're pretty flowers aren't they? The flower structure you're looking at is called a cyme. Cymes are stems from which several small flowers branch. You can also see that the stamens are the showiest part of the flower. The large green tongue above the cymes is a bract.

This is my third post on Tilia and I've yet to really get into the etymology of the name. But, I will save that for a rainy day (as, um, it's not raining right now, right at this second).