Spring in Black and White

Spring is all about growth and the return of color: fresh greens, sparkling blues, deep purples, cheerful yellows. But black and white can also convey the message of renewal.

These photographs were taken in various gardens and parks in the last month or so, all in the Pacific northwest. It’s been an exceptionally wet, cool Spring, conditions that suit our plants just fine, but we humans tire of the endless days of mist and rain and long for the warmth of the sun.

Still, if you dash out between the heavier showers, the wet conditions can be rewarding for outdoor photography. Overcast skies do not create harsh, distracting shadows. The even light enables you to see shape and form. And if the sun does break through, maybe you’ll catch a ray of light in the forest or a sparkle on the raindrops.

It’s challenging to look over my photographs with an eye towards which ones might work well without color, and we know challenges bring rewards. Sometimes color is the story, and sometimes color can distract from the story.  This selection is a reminder to look for more than color, and enjoy.

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  1. A Trillium (probably T. ovatum, the Western Trillum) at Heronswood, a botanical garden and nursery in Kingston, WA.
  2. A pair of Trillium buds at Heronswood. Heronswood grows many different trillium species, so I hesitate to guess which it is when the flower is still in bud.
  3. A beetle on a woodland wildflower that hasn’t bloomed yet, at PowellsWood Garden in Federal Way. This plant, probably False Solomon’s Seal (Maianthemum racemosum) or Star-flowered False Solomon’s Seal (Maianthemum stellatum), has name problems! Why false? I get that people named another plant (Solomon’s Seal) first but really, honor the plant with its own name next time. It’s not false anything, it is completely itself. And the Latin names for those two plants vary. The genus used to be Smilacina but is now Maianthemum, and not everyone has caught up. And don’t doubt for a second that there aren’t a myriad of common names for both plants –  Solomon’s Plume, Starry Solomon’s Plume, Feathery False Lily-of-the-Valley, Starry Lily-of-the-Valley, etc. Well, there’s work to keep botanists busy.
  4. A fern fiddlehead, possibly a Lady fern (Athyrium Filix-feminia), at Rhododendron Species Garden, Federal Way, WA.
  5. Peering through the fronds of an Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris) at the Rhododendron Species Garden. The species name, struthiopteris, comes from the Greek: struthis means ostrich, pterion means wing (says Wikipedia). Obviously the scientific name was given because the fronds rightly reminded someone of ostrich plumes (see the photograph below). That means ostrich plumes had to be pretty well known in Europe back when the plant was given its Latin name. Indeed, Linneaus published his Systema Naturae, the groundbreaking book whose binomial Latin name system for plants and animals enables speakers of all languages to communicate clearly about the natural world, in the mid 1700’s. By then the distinctive flora and fauna of Africa was familiar to Europeans. In fact, Pliny wrote about Ostriches almost two thousand years ago, and sultans are said to have made gifts of them to European rulers. The Ostrich fern grows in northern locations in Europe, North America and Asia.
  6. A large planting of graceful Ostrich ferns at Rhododendron Species Garden.
  7. New Ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba) tree leaves at Bellevue Botanical Garden. Many readers probably know that Ginkgo trees are the oldest living “fossil trees” in the world, having survived on earth for many millions of years. Rarely if ever found in the wild, they were cultivated at monasteries and temples in China, where they once did grow wild. Now they are planted in many cities as street trees – they survive pollution and rough conditions admirably. Was it all the good training they received in Buddhist monasteries? Here is a terrific Ginkgo website. And here, a scientist argues against continuing to plant Ginkgos for a number of sound reasons – though I am very fond of them!
  8. A Sword fern (Polystichum munitum) fiddlehead at Paradise Valley Conservation Area, Woodinville, WA. Why do Sword fern fiddleheads take that odd turn south on their journey of unfolding? I love it!
  9. Fawn lilies (Erythronium oregonum) at Kruckeberg Botanical Garden, just outside Seattle. This native beauty blooms in the woods here in April or May.
  10. Bleeding Heart flowers and foliage at O.O. Denny Park in Kirkland, WA.
  11. Unidentified plants grow out of the shallow water of a retention pond in Redmond, WA.
  12. An old Douglas fir tree that split into two trunks early on, at Paradise Valley Conservation Area. The tree’s Latin name is Pseudotsuga menziesii – another “false,”  this time false hemlock – psuedo, and tsuga (Japanese for hemlock). Classified and named in the 1800’s, it is not a fir, a pine or a hemlock, but another kind of conifer. Of course, native peoples had their own names for this grand tree, which can grow to well over 300 feet and live to perhaps a thousand years.
  13. Another Sword fern fiddlehead takes a turn on the dance floor, at Meerkerk Gardens on Whidbey Island, WA.
  14. Tulips at Bellevue Botanical Garden.
  15. A fading tulip at Bellevue Botanical Garden.

 

 

In the Garden, Rain and All

In between April showers I’ve been visiting as many public gardens as I can.  I’m not kidding about in between – it’s been so soggy that we’ve broken a hundred and twenty-two-year record for the wettest October through April (our wet period). But if you watch the forecast and the skies carefully there are breaks, and that’s when I duck out to visit a garden. The destination may be an hour’s drive or a ferry ride away, or it may be closer to home. Either way, my impromptu garden tours are pure pleasure, even if I have to drive home in a downpour and wall to wall traffic.

I avoid carrying a tripod or backpack. The camera bag with extra lenses, filters and what have you stays in the car. A Blackrapid camera strap goes over my left shoulder and across, so the camera rests at my hip by my right hand.  I find it’s the most comfortable way to carry my camera, which is a little smaller than a standard DSLR.  I have small velcro pouches on the strap that hold an extra battery and SD card. They’re lifesavers, except when you forget to resupply – oh well.

I carry one or two extra lenses in a pocket or a pouch hanging from a belt loop. A snack is always handy, too. There’s a running joke about getting me one of those many-pocketed photographer’s vests, but I’m not going down that road. I have been grateful for the hood on my sweatshirt lately though – and grateful that my camera’s weather-sealed. Eventually the incredible Seattle summer will arrive and rain won’t be a worry, but the beauty of our rainy Spring is that overcast skies often bring out the best in flowers.

Here’s an assortment of photographs taken at six different public gardens this month.

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The photographs were taken at Heronswood, the beloved garden and specialty nursery founded by plant explorer Dan Hinkley, the Kruckeberg Botanical Garden, another garden that began with the passion of a collector and grew into a nursery-cum-public garden, the University of Washington’s Center for Urban Horticulture in Seattle, Bellevue Botanical Garden, the Rhododendron Botanical Species Garden, and Powellswood, yet another garden that grew out of a private collection.

The pretty magenta and yellow nodding flowers are fawn lilies (Erythronium oregonum) which grow wild in the woods in the Pacific Northwest and are popular Spring garden plants. The photo that looks like an orchid (with dark background) is a Formosan Lady’s Slipper (Cipripedium), a hardy orchid from Taiwanese mountain forests that does well in our climate, too. The white three-petaled flower with the black beetle is a trillium (T. ovatum), a native woodland Spring flower that does well in gardens. Below it is the flower of the Akebia, an Asian ornamental vine.  The small blue flowers are Corydalis flexuosa; the blue bud is Meconopsis, the Himalaya Blue poppy. The last photo is of a Disporum, or Fairybells, probably our native species (D. smithii) at Heronswood.

I’m off to explore the “Big Empty” – a region in Oregon that is mostly range and desert, dotted with ghost towns and fossil beds. Maybe I’ll have a few desert landscapes to post when I return, and there are still desert photographs from my January trip to Arizona to post. Also, a selection of black and white garden images. Stay tuned…

Spring being…

…the deep, ragged

edge

between solstice seasons, where

light

changes quickly, it carries us

forward

on cool, stuttering

breaths.

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Photographs taken at Kruckeberg Botanic Gardens in Shoreline, Washington, just outside of Seattle. The garden is a small local treasure. Originally the home and garden of Art Kruckeberg and his family, this deeply shaded spot in a residential neighborhood is now a mature public garden. Dr. Kruckeberg taught Botany at the University of Washington, and  with his wife Maureen, was active in local botanical groups. The couple collected plants that feel right at home in the Pacific Northwest, blending seamlessly with native species. Though set with exotic trees from Asia and other unusual specimens, the garden retains a natural woodland feel.

An early outgrowth of Kruckeberg Botanic Garden was the MsK Rare Plant Nursery, a rambling collection of cuttings, seedlings and plants that keeps the garden supplied continuously with new material and offers area enthusiasts locally grown natives and exotics. Set on a steep hillside, the four acre site’s winding paths slow you down and invite closer looks. Not a place for grand vistas, it is an intimate, quiet experience.

In the midst of a very busy week I was able to squeeze a restorative hour at the Kruckeberg into my schedule last week. Surrounded by green on all sides, I felt my shoulders drop as my breathing slowed and tension subsided – a welcome respite. Sun filtered down through immense trees, highlighting a patch of tiny cyclamens on the ground here, and budding branches above there. Only a few other visitors were around, and a gardener or two. Joy made a small clearing amidst the day’s worries.

Look Up, Look Down – Early Spring Delights

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Photographs taken this spring at Bellevue Botanic Garden, Everett Arboretum, Washington Park Arboretum, Camano Island, and Kirkland, Washington (yes, we had a little snow the other day, but it melted fast).

Early Spring

I took a walk through Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle…Spring’s beauty is here.

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At the top of the stairs are Sword ferns (Polystichum munitum), an evergreen native fern that’s characteristic of the Pacific Northwest.

The unfurling green fiddleheads are Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). When I crouched down among them it was like being in a miniature forest. I just about ruined my boots in the muck!

The cherry blossoms after the bench photo are Nanking Cherry (Prunus tomentosa), native to parts of China. Its delicacy reminded me that hybrids may be spectacular, but species plants have their own beauty, often more subtle than the bright, beefy plants one sees at nurseries.

The twisted little unfurling ferns are Maidenhair fern (Adantium pedatum). One of my favorites, and how happy was I to find that they’re common in the woods here?

The white three-petaled flower is a Trillium (Trillium grandiflorum). It was my FOS. What’s that?  Well, birders call birds they see for the first time each year, like a swallow returning in the spring, their First of Season, hence “FOS”.

As a child in upstate New York I haunted the woods behind our house, sometimes finding wild trilliums – white and a few times, pink. I really wanted to transplant them to our back yard, but I found out they were disappearing from habitat destruction and over picking, so I let them be. They must be gone now – a computer bird’s eye view of my old house shows only a thin, poor band of woods between it and a newer development.  When I moved here last year I was thrilled to find wild trilliums (a different species but very similar)  regularly in the woods. It seems that respect for the wild comes more naturally to people here than in New York.

Along the stream, moss and Skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) grow happily. In the east Skunk cabbage is white but here, its bright yellow color lights up the early spring forest floor. The eastern variety has a different smell to me. Plants here smell more fragrant and less “skunk-y”, but it’s a heavy, strangely intoxicating, almost-perfume-but-almost-unpleasant odor. I like it.

I don’t know the names of the other cherry trees I photographed.  They’re well labeled, but once again I was caught up in the excitement and forgot to check.  The Prunus genus include almonds and peaches as well as cherries, and the Washington Arboretum lists over a hundred different Prunus varieties growing in the 230 acre park – all within Seattle city limits!

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It was still early

for cherry blossoms, and

it snowed a bit today, so I expect to

see more,

before the bloom is off

the branch

(but oh, the glorious, transient beauty of fallen cherry blossoms!)

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