Flowers for the Bard

On Saturday, May 4 and Sunday, May 5, the Arboretum will host Shore Shakespeare's production of Twelfth Night. Unsure of the connection between plants and the Bard? Consider the following: In his plays, Shakespeare mentions 181 plant species. The list includes many plants that are native to the Eastern Shore, such as blackberry, ash, birch, fern, elm, cypress, and holly. Enthusiasts of the playwright and of gardening can combine their passions by planting a Shakespeare garden composed of plants from their favorite plays.

Plants play villain as well as hero in Shakespearean literature. Juliet beseeches Romeo to forsake family ties for true love with the famous words "What's in a name? That which we call a Rose by any other name would smell as sweet," then later uses mandrake to feign her death. Root of hemlock and slips of yew are placed into the witches' cauldron in Macbeth, along with eye of newt and fillet of fenny snake.

Like many of his time, Shakespeare was well versed in the language of flowers. In Hamlet, he writes, "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance, pray you love, remember" as well as "...and there is pansies, that's for thoughts." Shakespearean sonnets are as rich in botanical metaphor as his plays. The famous Sonnet #18 reads:

               

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Rough winds notwithstanding, I plan on welcoming May with Shore Shakespeare's production of Twelfth Night and a picnic under the stars. Consider joining me at the Arboretum, "Where flowers do paint the meadow with delight."

by Jenny Houghton
Youth Program Coordinator

Read more: http://davesgarden.com/guides/articles/view/2601/#ixzz2QxMIwlme

The scourge of spring

Traveling in early spring along the Washington Beltway is always a reminder of the unstoppable blob that is wreaking havoc across the landscape.

I am not talking about a tsunami of boiling mud from a 1950s black and white horror movie, but the modern scourge of Bradford pear. When these ornamental pear trees are blooming, we realize how prevalent they are in the landscape. They once only lined city streets. But now those urban renewal plantings have escaped into natural areas. Planting street alleés of Bradford pear has changed the landscape of major byways in the region, lining them with woodland thickets of Bradford pears. Is there a budget large enough to stop the march of Bradford pears across the landscape?

A decade ago I asked a horticulturist, whose family owns one of the region’s oldest and largest retail nurseries in a DC Beltway community, how he had become so exorcised about invasive non-native plants. He said a walk through Rock Creek Park convinced him the problem is urgent. The banks of Rock Creek are covered in the worst offenders: Japanese honeysuckle, multiflora rose, knotweed, Oriental bittersweet, stilt grass, and garlic mustard are invasive non-native plants that threaten the survival of native plants. A spring drive along Route 50 and around the Beltway should be enough to convince the most uninformed that something sinister is spreading white blossoms everywhere. What can we do? Refuse to be a culprit and stop growing, selling, and planting Bradford pears.

by Ellie Altman

Executive Director

Experiencing Adkins' Habitats in Silence

The Stream (the Little Sally)

by Tony Pascal

The frogs have awakened from their winter slumber. Every 20 feet or so, I see a frog sailing into the water. It looks like a Northern Green Frog that frequents shallow streams and wetlands of the Eastern Shore. Some launch from a height of 24 inches. The frog is about 3 inches long, so it would be like me jumping off a 40-foot bridge. No problem for the acrobatic frog.

The stream now has more fish (fathead minnows) and water striders in residence. The water temperature is approaching 60 degrees, so the fish spawning has begun. It is a little windy today, sun warming up the woods. I see the black gnats, hatching in the stream. Flitting about the surface, the fathead minnows, in feeding position below me, slurp in the careless insects who hesitate too long on their fleeting moves across the water.

Dancing Mayflies in the air. Next to the butterfly, I think the Mayfly is one of the most beautiful flying insects in the woods. My two pairs of Mayflies dancing above my head unfortunately share the heritage of being one of the most short-lived animals in the world. An adult lifespan is 30 minutes to one day! Their immature days are spent in streams and rivers, in the larval stage. They can be in this stage for a year or so, and they feed on algae or diatoms. Before they emerge, oftentimes in the late afternoon, as today, they will float along the surface, test their wings, and take off. This is the most vulnerable time for them, in more ways than one; the fish downstream come up to take the fly in the surface film, and the fish’s telltale dimple is known as “the rise.”

The wind has stopped; the late afternoon sun feels great on my face. I lie back on a cushion of soft dead bracken, the tulip poplars rising 100 feet above me, their buds itching to pop. The sound of quiet. What could be better than this?

  

Wetlands

by Anna Harding

The mandala welcomes me this month, like an old friend for whom a place has been laid at the table. A mandala is the still center in a turning world, where one finds tranquility and peace. Today is bright sunshine, 51 degrees, breezy, vague high cloud cover. Algae scum creep across the vernal pool, feeding on this new, strong sun. Skunk cabbage continue to burst up from the leaf litter and march like an army across the wetlands. Small buzzing gnats hover around my face and bite my ears. They flit over the low watery pond that saturates this section of the Arboretum.

The buds on saplings and mature trees that were just beginning to show intention last month are beginning to plump out. A strawberry bush sends up a small vine, and a rainbow spider web shimmers in the bright sun. Green and vigorous plants, unknown to me, are pushing up, up, and beginning to display flower heads: purple, white, pink. The anemic grass clumps of February are bright and vigorous now. Even ‘the fallen’ have their place in this order: rotting stumps, broken branches, toppled trees, leaf litter, and boggish water….all belong here just as they are. What potential lives within these wetlands..besides lots of mosquito larvae!?

The bigger, more prolific skunk cabbage emits a soft, putrid fragrance. Simplocarpus foetidus: native to eastern North America, also known as polecat weed, skunk cabbage (or swamp cabbage) is a low growing plant that favors wetlands. While it emits a foul odor, it is not poisonous, and the odor serves to attract its pollinators—flies, stoneflies, and bees. It may also discourage animal foragers from destroying or damaging it. The speckled purple flowers I photographed in February were at the end of their yearly cycle, and now the leaves, which follow flowering, are emerging in lush, showy greenery. The roots are contractile, meaning they contract after growing into the earth. As the stem grows deeper and deeper into the soil, the plant is actually growing downward, not upward, making it nearly impossible to dig it up. The seeds are dropped into the mud and carried away by water or animals. The skunk cabbage can generate temperatures of 50 to 95 degrees, thawing surrounding ground so it can emerge in the winter (thermogenesis). Skunk cabbage was used in past centuries medicinally for dropsy, rheumatism, and nervous and respiratory disorders.

Elsewhere, the greenbrier is greener, and tiny mosses reach up with fragile hairy arms as if asking the sun to fill them with life!

  

Meadow

by Cindy Beemiller

With much anticipation, I head to the meadow. The chill of winter has loosened its grip, and I am looking forward to the changes of spring. I settle in to find not much has changed. The grass is greener, new flowers have appeared, and more birds are discussing the morning news. The long trailing Vs of geese are gone. I remove a layer of clothing and lie down. I close my eyes and enjoy the bird chatter. Woodpeckers hammer looking for breakfast, redwings “conkereee,” and I breathe in fresh cool air. Spring is so near. I open my eyes, sit up, and look around. I notice the path that has been there all along, but yet I paid no mind to it. I look around more, farther, and notice more paths...a network of roads outlining a small town of huts made of grass domes or, I imagine, apartment flats for deer to curl up in at night. Although the meadow’s lack of greenery disappointed me, the meadow never completely disappoints. There is always something to discover, to imagine about. Imagine wildlife with their own ways of life and personalities moving about foraging, interacting, and carving out their own lifestyles in the meadow.

Upland Forest

by Wendy Jacobs

It's April 4 and a sunny 50 degrees in the early afternoon. The ridge is slowly awakening, with a subtle greening of vines and of the bare canes near the forest floor. This greenish mist blurs the understory, making the trees look less green than they did in February. Buds are not visible on the giant oaks, but there are soft golden brushes at the top of the beech trees, and a bright red mohawk on a tall tree down below by the stream. There is a brown spider with two stripes down his back, cutting a wide circle around me on the leaf litter.

Behind me and visible across the trail is a younger forest, dominated by tall conifers. Some of them still bear a multitude of seed cones, reminders of the 2012 mast year (super-productive). There are over two dozen large trees down on the ground in a small area of about a half acre. They have fallen in all directions. A hurricane? Some have snapped off at the trunk, having already been dead and rotting when downed. Others have probably been killed by the wind, being broken mid-trunk. One long trunk has sprouted a hedge! Another has side-by-side holes in its upended root ball, indicating mammal dens. Are all these downed trees a sign of the slow ending of conifer domination as this area of the forest matures? Or just a fluke of nature?

"Experiencing Adkins' Habitats in Silence" is a project conducted by a team of students in the Maryland Master Naturalist program currently underway at the Arboretum. The team will observe each of these four ecosystems monthly and record what they experience.

Wild beagles beware

All I needed was a quiet walk in the woods to sooth my hyperactive brain. The brisk and sunny air was perfect, and as I entered the forest, I took a deep, rejuvenating breath. The wind was blowing enough to make me look up and watch the treetops sway. The voices in my head were lowered to whispers, and I began to feel peaceful as I headed for the Ridge Walk.

It was at this moment that I spotted animal movement up ahead on the path—the frantic circling of five beagles! They saw me and ran into the woods, barking and howling in harmony.

"Wild beagles? Really? What are you guys doing here? Where's your human?" I called after them as they scrambled toward the ridge. Then I decided to chime in.

"Houw-houw-houwwwwww," I cried. They stopped at the top of a hill and turned toward me, and howled right back. I cracked up.

At this point, they had retreated behind a fallen tree and three of them lined up with their front paws on the trunk and howled at me. They looked like a small choir, and their two backup singers barked as they climbed the hill, signaling that it was time to move on. I sent them on their way with a final howl. 

(I later learned that the beagles were likely on a rabbit hunt and had strayed onto the Arboretum grounds.)

by Meg Gallagher

Advancement Assistant

A Day at the Races

         

“On your mark, get set…go!” These words ushered in the eighth annual Arbor Day Run, which took place on Saturday, April 6. The first runners to cross a finish line were not seasoned veterans but children taking part in the Kids’ 100-Yard Dash. Their young age did nothing to diminish their fervor—as runners raced from ladybug to bumblebee balloon, small faces were set in fierce determination. One five-year-old confided, “I’ve been training for this race all week.”

In all, the 2013 Arbor Day Run was attended by over 70 running enthusiasts, most of whom took part in a 5K race traversing the Arboretum’s scenic meadow and woodland trails. Courtney Leigh was the overall champion of the 5K at just over 22 minutes. Microchip timing was provided by Bluepoint Race Timing and Management.

Many families enjoyed a more leisurely one-mile Fun Run, followed by refreshments and the 5K awards ceremony. In keeping with the Arboretum’s mission of environmental stewardship, awards were hand-crafted from slices of invasive Tree of Heaven. 5K runners also received sweetbay magnolia saplings, the Arboretum’s Native Tree of the Year, in honor of Arbor Day.

The Arbor Day Run was sponsored in part by Judge Anthony, Consulting Arborist, and Julio Ramirez, a pediatrician practicing in Centreville and Chestertown.

by Jenny Houghton
Youth Program Coordinator and Race Director

            

Plants with an appetite

My youngest child’s most recent favorite book is Elizabite: Adventures of a Carnivorous Plant, by H. A. Rey, author of the Curious George series. The book begins with these words:

“You would not think that plants like meat.

Well, some plants do. They catch and eat

Small insects, such as flies and ants,

And they are called

Sarracenia purpurea in a bog at Laurentian
Environmental Center, Minnesota

CARNIVOROUS PLANTS.

One of them came to world-wide fame;

ELIZABITE, that was her name.”

Imagine my surprise upon learning that the Arboretum will carry a native carnivorous plant, Sarracenia purpurea, at the spring plant sale. More commonly known as a Purple Pitcher Plant, the cold-tolerant Sarracenia purpurea is the most widely distributed member of its genus, with a range that spans the entire seaboard of the United States, as well as southeastern Canada.       

Unlike the ravenous Elizabite, the Purple Pitcher Plant does not eat beards, tails, bottoms, or robbers. It does, however, obtain most of its nutrients from prey capture. A host of insects fall into the pitcher, drowning in the rainwater that collects at its base. In the first year of life, the pitcher plant produces digestive enzymes to consume prey. By the second year, digestion is aided by a community of bacteria residing in the base of the plant.  Mosquitos and midges also make their home in the watery pitcher, where they dine upon flies, ants, spiders, and moths.

Purple Pitcher Plants thrive in full sun to light shade and require acidic, moist soil. Joanne Healey, the Arboretum’s nursery manager, recommends planting them in containers. They are also a good choice for terrariums. To purchase your own Elizabite, visit adkinsarboretum.org for information about the annual spring plant sale. For the first time, purple pitcher plants will be available for sale this spring.

by Jenny Houghton, Youth Program Coordinator

WOW: The Wonders of Worms

I recently taught a “Wiggly Worms” lesson to a class of three-year-olds. Though enthusiastic, their earthworm identification skills were in need of honing. Despite my emphasis on the program’s worm theme, which included worm visuals, worm races, worm songs, and a worm craft, when we encountered actual earthworms in the Arboretum’s Funshine Garden, they were met with squeals of “Run! Snake!” followed by an attempted beheading of the creature I had just praised as “a gardener’s best friend.”

Obviously, these kids had little prior worm exposure. Which is a shame, because earthworms really are a gardener’s best friend. Their tunnels aerate the soil, and their movements help mix rich topsoil into lower soil layers. Worms dine on organic matter, like leaves and grass, breaking them down into castings (which is a pleasant way of saying worm poop) that fertilize the soil.

Just as importantly, earthworms are fun. Digging for worms offers the thrill of the hunt, and most little ones (the aforementioned three-year-olds being an exception) are giddy with delight when a squiggly worm is placed in their palm. Give children two worms, set some parameters, and voila, it’s worm race time. Not the fastest race (maybe because worms don’t have eyes or legs?), but still amusing. If worms are not easily found in the soil, try turning over bricks, tree stumps, or stones—worms thrive in dark, moist places.

Once your outdoor worm adventures are over, cuddle up with your little one and enjoy the sweet “Wiggle and Waggle” story collection by Caroline Arnold. Or, for an even sweeter treat, decorate a batch of “dirt” cupcakes with gummy worms and watch your child dig in.

Looking for more kid-friendly nature experiences? Registration is now open for Adkins Arboretum’s spring preschool and homeschool programs, as well as for summer nature camps. Click here to learn more! 

by Jenny Houghton

Youth Program Coordinator

Report on Soup 'n Walk: March 23, 2013

Welcome to our two-hour walk at Adkins Arboretum. The delightful sunny weather was in the 40s and got to the 50s by afternoon. There were 15 guests, but most chose to do the one-hour walk with Mary Jo K. and not have to come early at 10 a.m.

skunk cabbage

We took the long walk out the South Tuckahoe Valley trail. Some of the earliest ephemerals can be seen where the hilly trail captures some south sun. It has been a very cold February and March, and many plants are about a week to two weeks behind last year. The sassafras were barely showing any yellow buds, and the pinxterbloom azalea had some nice pink buds showing. Their pink buds will continue to swell for another month before they bloom. The cool weather has also kept the shadbush and blueberry bush from showing their colors. Further along, we did see a tiny speck of yellow on the spicebush buds at the next bridge. As we approached the later skunk cabbage bridge, we caught sight of green skunk cabbage leaves basking in the sun. Our very alert eyes finally found a patch of shy spring beauties. Actually, we ended up seeing three small patches of these beauties. In among them were some leaves of spring cress, but no blooms here either. We did spot a fair number of cranefly orchid leaves with their lovely purple underneath.

spring beauty

 

spring cress

Getting to the path down by the creek, we spotted two types of green ferns, the Christmas fern and some wood ferns. Another keen eye saw the tracks where raccoons had waded in the sandy-bottomed stream. We proceeded to the trout lily patch and saw only young leaves, but we marked it with some branches, and hopefully others will monitor when the blooms appear.

Christmas fern

wood fern

raccoon tracks

With the long walk, we were happy to get back to the Visitor’s Center to our decorated room filled with the delicious and colorful cabbage and beet soup, black-eyed pea salad, dill rye bread with strawberry jam, and cranberry apple cobbler. Nancy B. decorated, and Mary A. H., Shirley B., Zaida W., and Pat B. helped with the setup and cleanup. Shirley B. and I brought cobbler. Mary Jo K. led the one-hour group. We had a short discussion on nutrition using the recipes and some info on myths about fats. Our guests mentioned that walking in the woods is such a delightful experience, no matter what we see. When I mentioned the upcoming Soup ’n Walks, there was concern that none was planned for October, and one of the guests started creating a guest list that would have at least 15. It was good to see such excitement. Some new ones from Annapolis at my lunch table said they would be back and had already signed up for April. Many thanks go to the volunteers and staff that make this event so enjoyable.

by Julianna Pax

Arboretum docent naturalist

The next Soup 'n Walk is Saturday, April 27.