Nepenthes densiflora

So how is it, that after more than two years of writing this blog, I've yet to mention what is perhaps the most infamous of plant types - the carnivorous plant? Well, I'll delay no longer and share some images of Nepenthes densiflora, which can also be referred to as pitcher plants or monkey cups.

To be utterly specific, the term pitcher plant refers to two different families of carnivorous plants: Nepenthaceae, which are old world vining plants and Sarraceniaceae, which are terrestrial new world pitcher plants. Nepenthes is the only genera in its family, whereas three genera exist in the Sarraceniaceae family.



Nepenthes leaves initially look quite ordinary, but soon a tendril forms at the tip which eventually becomes a pitcher or cup. The "lid" that forms above the pitcher is not to keep insects from escaping but instead is to protect the cup as it develops. When the pitcher is finally ready to capture its prey the lid opens more fully.



When the cup gets larger, it begins to inflate with air and consequently it collects liquid. The plant begins to emit an odor of nectar to entice insects. The insect enters the pitcher - perhaps alighting on the toothed peristome (rolled leaf) at the top of the cup. When it tries to walk on the peristome, the surface essentially flakes away, causing it to slip down the sides of the pitcher and into the liquid. As the insect struggles to escape, the movement triggers plant glands to emit digestive acids which can render a midge fly to a mere memory in hours. The largest of the pitchers, Nepenthes rajah can even digest mice!



Nepenthes is not the only beneficiary of the prey it traps. Over 150 species have adapted to survive the diabolical morphology of the pitcher plant. Mosquito larvae live in the pitcher and find sustenance in the decaying remains of insects and some species of Nepenthes even have developed "pockets" in their stems to provide habitat for ants. The ants crawl into the pitcher to help themselves to a freshly-trapped fly, bring the fly to the peristome and dismember it. Smaller pieces of the fly fall back into the phytotelma (a water body formed by a plant) and are digested. Crab spiders and frogs have also learned to benefit from some species of Nepenthes. However, that doesn't include Nepenthes rajah - which can make a diet out of frogs quite easily.



Nepenthes densiflora is native to the Sumatran highlands and thrives best in elevations of 8000 feet or more. The genus name is compliments of Linnaeus himself. It's assumed by most that he was referring to the mythological elixir Nepenthe which is referenced in Homer's Odyssey.

Hedera helix

Well, it's been cold lately in New York. The past few days we finally broke into weather above 35° and it felt downright tropical (if only). Add this to the fact that I'm planning a big move and packing and well, at least for the time being, I have a full time job, so it's safe to say I've been awfully busy.

But that doesn't mean I can't post something up here. Even if it's as plebeian as English ivy (Hedera helix), seen here growing up Platanus x. acerifolia at the Marble Cemetery.


Everyone knows this plant. Over the past five years of teaching, very few students are unable to identify this plant as ivy when encountered with it. It's a very handy, practically-bulletproof plant that can be used as a climbing vine (as above) or as a groundcover (as below).



But there are probably things about Hedera helix that the average person doesn't know.



The name itself comes to mind. Hedera is simply the Latin name for ivy, but helix tells one more about the plant. Specifically that the leaves emerge from the stem in a helical pattern (much like the way DNA molecules are arranged in a strand).



Above you see the more recognizable form of ivy climbing the wall, then it balloons out into a shrub-like mass and starts to fall back down the wall. That's the adult phase of the plant. The form we see most often is the juvenile stage.


Here's ivy, in adult form, climbing a tree at Liz Christy Garden. The overall form of the plant isn't the only thing that changes. If you look more closely, you see the leaf changes from a three-lobed shape into a more ovate-shaped leaf - the lobes disappear.



You also see that, like people, this plant is able to reproduce once it is in the adult stage. Bluish berries fruit a year after minute flowers are pollinated. These fruits are mildly toxic.



The next obvious question is, why can some ivy plants remain at the juvenile stage for decades, while others enter the adult phase? The key is height. Generally, when the plant is more than 20 feet above-ground, and it is not being pruned or clipped, it enters the adult phase.

Madison Square Park, Passionflower

Here, at perhaps the busiest entrance to Madison Square Park (at 23rd Street and Broadway), the statue of former New York Governor and United States Secretary of State (for Lincoln and Johnson) William Seward watches me try to snap a photo, despite the many passersby.


Madison Square Park is a favorite of mine. For starters, it's one of the only places in the city where I can find Daphne x burkwoodii and Aesculus parviflora. It's a city park that is just big enough to get 'lost' in, as opposed to smaller pocket parks like Bryant. Finally, there's a rotating display of sculpture and art, lawn spaces for picnicking and of course the Shake Shack.



The park also has a beautiful selection of seasonal planting -- this detail shot above shows tree philodendron (or Philodendron bipinnatifidum) and red canna lilies (Canna s.) are used in lieu of more traditional annuals.

A closer glance shows they also use Passiflora incarnata or purple passionflower. There are about 500 species of passionflower, though this vine species is perhaps best used as an annual vine 'round these parts.



Most amazing about this plant is the showy, unusual flower structure. If you want a more detailed description, check out this site. Basically what appears to be ten petals are actually five sepals alternating with five petals. The sepals are recognizable by the tiny 'awn' or thread at the tip (see the sepals above at 7 o'clock and five o'clock). The stringy threads are corona filaments. Above them, five stamen provide pollen and the three stigma above them are the female parts of the plant.

Passiflora is not named such because it elicits passionate thoughts, but because Spanish Christian missionaries derived symbolism in the flower structure for the passion of Christ. Who knew?

Trumpet Creeper

Here are some shots of trumpet creeper, or Campsis radicans, growing on the fence at the Liz Christy Garden on Houston Street.


Campsis means 'curved' in Greek and refers to the curved stamens in the flower. Radicans means 'rooting' in Latin, referring to this vine's ability to develop roots along its stems and thus spread up trees, on buildings and along fences.


We've discussed relatives of this vine before, namely Jacaranda and Catalpa -- both members of the Bignoniaceae family.

Though it's timely I finally show photos of this lovely summer vine today -- lately I've been doing a fair amount of research on tropical plants, specifically those that thrive in Hawaii, and have been surprised by how many Bignoniaceae family plants feature in this environment. And it's true -- as I realize now -- that the majority of genera in this family are found in the tropics. Catalpa and Campsis are rarities in the family as they are found in such a temperate/cold climate.

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.

Clematis

From the 91st Street Garden in Riverside Park, we have a couple lovely specimens of Clematis.

This one below is a cultivar, though I'm not certain which one. It could be 'Forever' or 'Pink Fantasy', though I doubt it's 'Pink Champagne.' I'm pretty terrible at keeping up with cultivars, especially of herbaceous plants.


Actually, that preceding statement requires correction; technically Clematis is a liana. Lianas, aside from being ubiquitous in crossword puzzles, are upward growing vines with woody bases. The word Clematis itself is Greek for vine or vinelike. This said, a majority of the plant dies back each winter.


These two specimens are most likely Clematis x. jackmanii, a very, very popular hybrid in the nursery trade. I imagine most people think of this plant when they hear the word Clematis, though there are over 250 species in the genus, many of which have smaller, more diminutive flowers.

I'm guilty of pronouncing the genus wrong, over and over again. The correct pronunciation is KLEM-uh-tiss, but I always end up saying cluh-MAT-iss. To me, the former pronunciation sounds a tiny bit like a skin condition one would wish to avoid. Alas.


During a brief google search for some extra information on Clematis, I came across this site. Then I found this site and then this one. It quickly became clear that, while I think Clematis plants are just great, I am in no way capable of matching the enthusiasm others have for thsi genus. They all deserve a shout-out.

Parthenocissus quinquefolia

Parthenocissus quinquefolia, or Virginia creeper, growing up along the boardwalk rail on the Jersey shore.


Chances are you have noticed Virginia creeper these days. It is a climbing vine and while it's inconspicuous growing along the trunk of a tree in the summertime, it's hard to miss right now, as the leaves are turning a brilliant crimson red.



It's fruit are also maturing and will soon be eaten up by birds. The fruit on this native vine are high in oxalic acid and can be fatal to mammals. It's apparently also awful-tasting, so deaths by Virginia creeper are fairly rare.


Parthenocissus is literally Greek for virgin ivy. 'Parthenos' means 'virgin' and the Greek work for ivy is 'kissos.'