Gothic Monarch Church

On an early March day in 2010, I walked into a Gothic cathedral. Not a typical one, this one was in the High Sierra of Michoacan, Mexico. As in entering Chartres, my eyes were immediately drawn towards the heavens. The ceiling though was an indigo sky and the walls and buttresses were conifers. Best of all, living creatures — monarch butterflies in the tens of thousands – made for glorious stained glass windows.

Here, in El Rosario, a protected sanctuary near the town of Angangueo, these bright orange, black and white butterflies were clustered like hanging nests in the upper branches of the oyamel conifers. As the sun emerged and the air warmed, some began fluttering about like colorful snowflakes, a few even landing upon our heads, arms and backs. Unlike the magical silence of a snowfall, however, I could perceive a subtle, yet distinctive murmur, coming from their delicate wings. These butterflies without borders were preparing to embark on their long and arduous trip towards El Norte.

We have all heard about the remarkable migrations the Eastern monarchs perform each year. They are the most famous migrating Lepidoptera known, traveling up to three thousand miles in each direction and faithfully returning to the same over-wintering sites in the central Mexican highlands. This phenomenon, that includes a span of three to four generations in one year, has intrigued scientists and laymen for decades. (West coast monarchs follow a different itinerary, heading to southern California/northern Mexico.)

Many theories abound. Flight patterns appear to be inherited and based upon the position of the sun as well as a circadian clock in the butterflies’ antennae. The earth’s magnetic field most probably contributes to their sense of orientation as well.

My own antennae now piqued has led me more than ever to be on the outlook for monarchs both in New England and in Mexico. Sadly, last summer, fewer monarchs appeared in my northern garden. (And this is despite encouraging the milkweed to multiply by mowing our field much later in summer.) While returning south again this fall, I wondered how the monarchs might also be faring. After all, we seemed to be following a similar path — albeit at a different tempo…

Mating monarchs

Unfortunately, their voyages spanning a few months are getting tougher. The devastating drought on their migration paths in the Southwest most certainly has had a deleterious effect on their survival rate. With little nectar from flowers and compromised sources of water, these migrants are being seriously challenged.  As Monarch Watch, a prime research and conservation program based at the University of Kansas stated last fall: “The migration is just beginning to navigate a 1000 miles of hell – a nearly flowerless/nectarless and waterless expanse of central KS, OK, TX, and NE Mexico.”

Notwithstanding the effects of climate change, other major factors are affecting their numbers: loss of habitat and food sources. Beginning with roadside management practices involving herbicides and frequent mowing and ending with the worst of all culprits: industrial agriculture that uses Monsanto Round-Up Ready genetically engineered crops, the odds are stacked against them. Round-Up Ready is so selective, so “perfect”, that it was developed to ignore crops such as soy beans and corn, while killing the weeds, e.g. milkweed or Asclepias. Since monarchs lay their eggs upon this “weed” and their caterpillars rely upon it exclusively for food, much is at stake.

Asclepias (Swamp Milkweed)

For the entomologist expert Lincoln P. Brower, Round Up Ready is “like absolute Armageddon for biodiversity over a huge area.” In Iowa alone, according to an agronomist expert, the amount of milkweed on farms declined 90 percent from 1999 to 2009, due to the adoption of herbicide tolerant (HT) crops.

Experts like Dr. Chip Taylor, an insect ecologist and the director of Monarch Watch, believe strongly that the explosion in genetically modified crops is threatening monarchs by depriving them of their prime larval habitat and food source. As it turns out, milkweed also acts as a protector, infusing the monarchs with what to birds is highly unpalatable, a typical miracle of nature. Indeed, other butterfly species such as the Queen and Viceroy evolved to visually mimic the monarch, thereby staving off potential predators.

Low monarch numbers implies that the integrity of the overwintering sites in Mexico is now more important than ever. Unfortunately, evidence that monarch populations are in decline has come from a recent study showing a drop of the monarchs’ geographic spread. “The amount of land occupied by the monarchs is thought to be a proxy for their population size”, according to the NY Times article. That amount is decreasing.

While the monarchs are being challenged up north, the monarch sanctuaries that have been established by the Mexican government may not be enough to protect them. The exclusive oyamel trees on which the monarchs cluster are valuable lumber sources that many local people depend upon for income. Although such logging is prohibited and ecotourism is promoted as an alternative, challenges remain since lumbering, at least for some, continues to be more lucrative.

Michoacan lady

Unlike in the United States and Canada where monarchs are more dispersed, the problem in Mexico revolves around a high population clustered in just a few small sites. This makes the possibility of habitat destruction here as well very serious. “Conservation organizations, in particular the Mexican group Monarca, A.C., worked with governmental agencies and local people to establish land protection, sponsor research, initiate education about monarch conservation, and enhance alternative economic development in the region. Despite the establishment of five sanctuaries in 1985 and the opening of tourist trade, these efforts have not yet assured the continued survival of the overwintering monarch population,” according to Monarch Watch.

Fortunately, conservation organizations, such as the Mexican group Monarca, A.C., continues to work with governmental agencies, NGO’s and the local population to establish land protection, sponsor research, initiate education about monarch conservation, and in general enhance alternative economic development in the region.

http://www.audubonmex.org/

Preparing tortillas for the visitor

For more information on MonarchWatch: www.monarchwatch.org/

Lute Wired to Plants

Click the arrow to listen (it is very quiet) You can also hear more at the end of this post.

When I first wandered into the The Conservatory of Mexican Plants at El Charco del Ingenio, an impressive botanical garden in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, I was met not only by a vast panoply of cacti and other succulents native to the Sierra Madre, but by music as well. The soft, melodic, haunting sounds appeared to be emanating from a sitar.

Drawn towards the source of the sound, I discovered a sensuous wooden, handcrafted lute. But no one was playing.  Plants were. To be more specific, small cacti within a 20 inch terracotta pot. To be even more specific, these were cucumber-sized Echinocereus pentalophus forming a circle around a spiky barrel shaped Echinocactus platyacanthus. Looking back towards the lute and perplexed by the lack of any visible movement on the strings, my eye was led to three yellow, blue and green wires buried into the gray rocky soil and also connected to the lute reclining on a stand covered with a small striped, peach-colored cotton fabric. An electric wire was connected to a small solar powered panel outdoors.

“Music for Plants” by Ariel Guzik, a Mexican artist and inventor, is a one-piece installation recently on view at El Charco del Ingenio, an extensive botanical garden in the Sierra Madre. It is known for its impressive collection of native plants, some previously rescued from the wild and on the endangered species list. Side by side with the current exhibition, “Land Art”, it offers an exciting, new take on environmental art à la Andy Goldsworthy. In this case, the work is “auditory sculpture”.

In his piece, Ariel Guzik, the founder of the Laboratory for Research in Resonance and Expression of Nature, features the central “performer” plant connected through a network of roots to electrodes inserted like acupuncture needles. The smaller surrounding cacti play a role as emitters to the lute. What I couldn’t see was the amplifier under the fabric.

Guzik’s mission is to create “an empathetic language, universal and direct, between human beings and their environment …to wake up in the collective consciousness a profound emotional understanding of nature.” The effect of the subtle sounds conveyed was certainly haunting.

In his title, “Music for Plants” one might notice the term  “for” and not “from” plants. Intrigued, I suddenly recalled my first experience upon hearing dolphins and whales communicating in recordings by Paul Winter back in the 1970’s. Here, in the Conservatory, we are also being asked to consider that plants might communicate through sound. Guzik calls the surrounding ones in the Conservatory “ambassadors”. Hmm… where do I fit in? I pondered.

Cacti and Wires

Asking the opinion of a few others mammals such as an Englishman that had strolled in, he responded: “you have to see it to believe it”. And hear it. A friend used the word, “other worldly”. Others, such as two neurobiologists approached this phenomenon from a somewhat more skeptical angle.

As one of them, Alison Fleming, Ph.D and Professor of Psychology and Research Chair in Neurobiology at the University of Toronto suggested: “It is not clear that the vibrations, clearly produced by electrochemical changes in the root systems, could generate enough energy to move the strings of the lute. It would be in any case impressive if the lute were indeed being used as a ‘speaker.’ It is all very mysterious and maybe it doesn’t have to be. I would much prefer knowing what is actually going on than thinking it magic,” she said with her sparkling, inquisitive eyes. As a professor who shares with her students how science reveals nature’s marvels, she felt learning more how the string vibrations create the music would add not detract but would add to our experience.

And so, where is the line between art and science? Does it matter?

It did to me. To learn more, I returned to interview Martita Garcia, the Curator of Mexican Succulent Plants at El Charco  (“small pool” in Spanish).  Shedding a ray of light on the subject, she explained that indeed an amplifier rests below the lute thereby enabling vibrations within the instrument.

What kind of symphony might occur if a larger group, say a chorus of plants, were all plugged in? On a smaller scale, she confirmed that different plants emit different patterns. Times of day matter too. If I understood correctly in my somewhat limited Spanish — not to mention scientific knowledge — louder and higher pitched sounds occur at night due to photosynthesis. Having absorbed and accumulated energy during the day, the plants convey more electromagnetic energy at night. Who would have thought? And where is the role of circadian rhythms?

The biggest eye-opener however, occurred when Martha Garcia pointed out a few independent plants in the “audience”. Over the course of several weeks she had observed that a couple of these succulents were displaying visible physical changes. For example, one cactus had begun producing small pink flowers. Nothing strange here. It’s just that they had blossomed in the summer and were now re-blossoming, an unusual phenomenon at this time of year.

Reblooming Cactus

From here, I began to dig a little deeper. I discovered ongoing research on “plant perception” and “bio-communication”. For over a century, scientists and laypeople have been making experiments on how plants, on some level, may be sentient creatures despite their lack of a nervous system and a brain.

In the early part of the 20^th century, a Bengali polymath, Chandra Bose, pioneered the study of remote wireless signaling. Also fascinated by plant physiology, he invented a “crescograph” ( later perfected at Stanford University), that could show how various stimuli produce responses in plants — at times even expressed in visible physical changes.

Recently, I came across, “Do Plants Have Minds?” on NPR where Alva Noë, a philosopher at CUNY wrote: “There is, in fact, a substantial and developed scientific literature … on plant behavior and intelligence, a literature that sometimes goes under the heading “plant neurobiology.”

Of course, a number of writers, artists and filmmakers have also been captivated by the mysteries of nature and “self-expression “. For example, the English author, Roald Dahl’s short story, “The Sound Machine” deals with a scientist who develops a machine enabling one to hear the auditory expression of plants. Focusing on how plants “experience” pain, the device relayed the scream of roses being cut or the heart-breaking moan of a tree being felled.

Finally, I was reminded of “The Secret Life of Plants” by Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird. In addition, a documentary came out by the same name with the soundtrack, “Journey through the Secret Life of Plants” by Stevie Wonder. With time-lapse photography we could see flowers opening, mushrooms expanding and vines twining.

Today, we have Ariel Guzik further inviting us into this vast world that explores the physical, emotional, and spiritual relations between plants and other plants, and, by extension, plants and animals such as humans.

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/31877773 w=400&h=225]

laúd plasmaht Ariel Guzik from Ariel Guzik on Vimeo.

Asters

Snow is on the horizon. And we haven’t even had a “serious” frost. Two days ago I headed out to the garden on a warm afternoon to capture a last shot of my vast array of bloomers on these late days of autumn.

Like the Dia de los Muertos that I will soon be participating in south of the border in San Miguel de Allende, this is the time to bid farewell to the garden.  And so, just like in Mexico,  I am honoring a few friends that have come along for such a colorful ride this fall.

Some, like the asters and monkshoods are your typical late season new kids on the block.

Monkshood and Grass

Most unusual to witness is an iris blooming in October!  The pure white ‘Infinity’ iris puts on a display twice a year. Although it makes an appearance in the spring it makes a huge splash in the fall. For good reason. Why would an iris bloom as the days grow short and the nights cold?

'Infinity' Iris

The dahlias are perhaps the most spectacular of the bunch. Not only are their colors gorge0us but they begin blooming in mid-summer and persist until the frost. All are stalwarts. My firetruck red ones  that grow along a split rail fence are often mistaken for roses. They happen to grow next to them too.

Dahlia and Rose

Dahlias!

Hand-made fence and arbor at Hortylus, PA.

Fall provides a perfect opportunity to take a good hard look at our gardens. It’s the time when a garden’s architecture is revealed. (Winter offers the same but it can be challenging when a thick cover of snow is upon us). Like removing one’s clothes at a doctor’s office, the garden can be more easily assessed when the clutter of clothes — no, make that daylilies, asters, coleus — you name it, has disappeared.

And so, with warmer clothes upon us as we put our gardens to bed, we can now discover opportunities for change in the garden. Plants will be better “rooted” when accented by structure and mass inherent to stone, wood or metal.

A garden’s bare bones is about the permanent, more enduring hardscape. This includes the buildings, driveway, stone walls, paths, boulders, bird baths, benches and sculptures among other things.

Well-cover sculpture

That said, the less permanent can also now be appreciated in ways that a busier garden doesn’t offer.  These “softer” hardscapes such as woody plants i.e. trees and shrubs call out for attention. In assessing them, think pruning. If lacking, think planting. Until the ground is frozen there’s still time.

Here are three fairly simple things to consider while exploring what comprise our “bare bones” (back to the doctor…).

Optimal viewing sites: These are crucial. For example, do you experience your garden while walking on the path to the house? Is it visible from the kitchen or office window (something we need to consider more as the temperatures drop). Don’t shortchange the multiple angles available to you for appreciating nature. That includes birds that visit the garden as well.

Architecture: This need not be about the buildings but can include details such as gates, fences, arbors, stone walls, boulders and of course, on a larger scale, essential walkways. No matter what the size, structure defines. Focal points, say a birdbath or a marble headstone laid down flat to make it less conspicuous (I found one by my chicken coop with the date, 1831 and the words: ‘Cling Not to Earth’  makes for a more “lively” garden.And, what a lovely feature emerged when I came upon an old iron gate in a dilapidated antique store Hudson, NY, painted it black and installed it at the base of a walkway. We never close it but it sure makes for an inviting visual and tactile statement. You feel you’re entering a more private and privileged place. 

'Cling not to Earth' headstone

Borrowed views: How I relish once again the opportunity to gaze at my stone walls or catch a hint of the hills beyond. A definite perk at this time of year. How can this be maximized? Editing — as long as it’s on your own land… Pruning a few branches or removing that gangly, diseased looking tree will open things up to offer the landscape beyond. Of course as you move through the land another layer is revealed and calls out for attention. It’s like touching up a wall to discover you really have to paint the whole thing.

Just an added note: I just went on a magical mystery tour with the Berkshire Botanical Garden (which is how I got to see the Hortylus garden shown at the top)

Our three day trip was filled with great tours such as Chanticleer and Longwood gardens as well as a day’s conference on gardens at Swarthmore College. Thank you  BBG for inaugurating these trips! Thank you Elizabeth Cary, the Director of Education.

Hopefully more small trips will be on the horizon!

http://www.berkshirebotanical.org/

https://picasaweb.google.com/108472619394772375120/HighlightsPABBGTrip

Credit: Reinout van Wagtendonk 'Berkshots'

This time of year, hard work in tandem with mother nature bring us the best of the Berkshires’ bounty, from late apples and sweet corn to hearty crops like winter squash and earthy root vegetables. It’s time to savor what can’t be stored until we’re sated, then, put up, dry, store, freeze and forage what we can.  For me, fall is bittersweet, our abundant harvest tempered by memories of the long freeze ahead.”

Amy Cotler, Author, “The Locavore Way”

For many of us, the harvest season invariably conjures up images of glorious foliage, hay rides, and pumpkins as well as delicious scents: baked apple pies, acorn squash with a dollop of maple syrup, roasted chestnuts and turkeys. In our more ornamental gardens, it’s the turn of amethyst purple asters, hot pink fall crocuses (Colchicum), ornamental kales and mums that look more like cramped carnations.

Credit: Reinout van Wagtendonk:'Berkshots'

Even though the days are painfully shorter and Jack Frost is wiping out any of our lingering tomatoes and basil, we still have plenty of ways to indulge in the warm earth’s bestowals.

In old English, the word ‘harvest’, originally ‘hærfest’ was equivalent to ‘autumn’ and still the case with the German, “herbst”. From eons past, harvest time is about celebration (although some of us, particularly farmers, may even concede there’s a sense of relief. Come November, things are finally winding down).

Harkening back to pagan times, an autumn festival, like a pole dance on May Day, is a tribute to seasonal change. Here, in our community, we’ve enjoyed the annual Berkshire Botanical Garden’s Harvest Festival begun in 1934 and, a few years later, provided for in part, by a Victory Garden.

More recently, Berkshire Grown’s Harvest Supper, begun in 1998, has burst upon the scene with an evening where a panoply of over 25 local restaurants and beverage makers offer samples of their culinary prowess. Come November, Thanksgiving, the traditional American holiday par excellence, gives families their own turn to indulge in the season’s bounty.  And, it also happens to be our own non-political and non-religious holiday. A pleasant time indeed.

Credit: Reinout Van Wagtendonk

Returning to our own gardens, here are a few things I suggest for this transition time:

• - Perennials: Enjoy your sedum ‘Autumn Joy’, Cimicifuga, Joe Pye Weed and other late season flowering plants into the winter. Not only are they beautiful  but many contain seedheads that attract song birds.
  

• - Bluebird nest boxes: Remove any nesting material and scrub the insides with a mild detergent and water. Either leave the boxes up over the winter or wait to set them up by March. Just make sure they’re located in an open field or meadow.

• - Bird feeders: Bring them back out if they’re not already. Clean them well with a little detergent and water. Suet is another important source of energy during the winter.

• Soil: Lightly aerate and add compost. This applies to bare lawn zones which you can still re-seed while the soil is warm. Water and cover with straw to keep moist.
• Grasses Keep them through the season — and not only for esthetic appeal but for future bird nesting material. Just cut them back and divide if necessary in the late spring.
  

Credit: Reinout Van Wagtendonk

(For the complete story including two interviews with local farmers, see October’s Berkshire HomeStyle issue.)

http://www.berkshots.com/

http://www.amycotler.com/

I invite you all to wander through some beautiful, fun and/or traditional Berkshire gardens this coming Sunday ,the 31st. (Seekonk Farm happens also to  be included… ).

Here at Seekonk Farm, we have a plethora of mid to late bloomers like the tall elegant Cimicifuga ‘Hillside Black Beauty’ and the orange butterfly loving Asclepias tuberosa aka Butterflyweed, silver/green Sea Kale, red Dahlias and more. A few mauve colored poppies are still around and I’m hoping like crazy that a profuse display from my red gladioli will still be in bloom! Below it’s from a previous year when the oriental lilies were happy – not so now…

Crocosmia 'Lucifer' with Oriental Lily

Cephalanthus or Buttonbush with butterfly

And then there are my best friends: native plants. This one is called Buttonbush and thrives in wetlands. It’s also a butterfly “attractant”.

Echincea with grass

Honey's Pool garden - Credit: Rich Pomerantz

Come and visit more gardens on 7/31 in both Williamstown and Stockbridge, MA. Very close to my heart is the Fitzpatricks’ family, ‘Hillhome’, at 9 Prospect Hill in Stockbridge. Jack just passed away last weekend and the garden will still be open to the public. “Those would have been his wishes”, I was told. I’ll miss you Jack but will see you in your garden.

For more information, please go to:

The Garden Conservancy Open Days

¡Bienvenido a Casa Miel!

Walk in through this old wooden door on a small and quiet, cobblestoned street, and you will enter a secluded jewel of a home in the historic heart of San Miguel de Allende, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Relax in the Mexican tiled living room that sits off our main courtyard with a fountain, hot pink bougainvillea and a tall “Fridha Kahlo blue” wall — a perfect site for an intimate breakfast or lunch.

Living room

Living room with view to the courtyard

Notice the handsome native cantera stone fireplace, inviting linen white chairs and couch, a bright Kazakhstan wall-hanging and a Kilim rug.

Main courtyard with fountain

Dining room

Contemporary kitchen

A state of the art kitchen with the latest appliances and conveniences, including purified tap water. Just beyond is the dining room with a boveda ceiling from which hangs a hand-crafted chandelier. The antique table and chairs easily seat six. Colors throughout the house reflect San Miguel’s well-known ochres and deep salmons.

Guest bedroom with two twin-sized beds and a Central Asian theme that includes an Afghani wall-hanging and Bedouin robes for wall décor. The small courtyard with a fountain makes the space all its own.

Powder room with Guatemalan textiles

“My wife and I can’t imagine a nicer place to stay! It’s a peaceful haven right in the heart of the town. A perfect location with wonderful neighbors. The owners have a great sense of style and the staff is most helpful and thoughtful.” Jonathan S., NYC

Typical Mexican style guest bedroom with a queen sized bed and a green-tiled bathroom

Walkway "bridge" to the master bedroom

Master bedroom with four poster bed

From the wrought-iron four-poster bed, look out to the balcony and the courtyard where small birds come to visit our fountain. Or just peer up to the tall boveda ceiling with its Mexican-tiled and glass cupola .

Azotea (roof top) garden sitting area

A perfect place for a glass of wine (or a margarita!) during the gorgeous sunset with views to the hills beyond and the sound of the church bells.

Sunset with views from the azotea

“Beautiful, warm, happy house; conveniently located to walk the town. Perfect for easy elegant entertaining or total privacy. Would highly recommend for a family or a couple, or two couples.” Naomi, NY, NY

For more images, please visit our Picasa photo album.

Picasa Web Albums – Honey Sharp – Casa Miel San Miguel

Picasa Web Albums – Honey Sharp – San Miguel de Allende

Hostas and Ferns

This aphorism popped into my brain upon waking up one morning in early June and contemplating summer’s work ahead. Sure, upon arising, my wrist and back provided a keen reminder that indeed I had gained a handle on things. After all, by now the garden looked “presentable.” I had raked winter’s debris, yanked out dandelions and garlic mustard and spread the Moo Doo and mulch. How long would this last though?

Heading to my kitchen that looks out on the garden, I was contemplating the tasks ahead: cutting back columbines, bleeding hearts, and irises while digging out some of the alliums that multiply ad infinitum. Sure, they had all been a joy to behold but by now they had come and gone. To “go” any further though they would need my help…

Strolling out on the lawn with my mug of steaming coffee, I couldn’t help but hear the nagging words: “oh dear, those irises also need dividing” or: “ the time has passed to dispose of the drooping, yellowing daffodil leaves…” Glancing towards the peony buds, I could already envision them teeming with ants and soon turning brown and wilted. I rushed back into the house for another cup of coffee.

Although the British are known for their cottage gardens with ebullient colors galore, further south the Italians are credited with by their elegant outdoor rooms with peastone pathways following symmetrical lines, strategically placed emerald cypresses, fountains and, if you’re lucky a cool, hidden grotto. The borrowed landscape from rolling Tuscan hills doesn’t hurt either. On the other side of the globe, the Japanese are quintessentially minimalist with their carefully chosen and planted rocks and meticulously pruned woody plants. Splashes of hot colors can still emerge in key focal points when spring brings azaleas and fall chrysanthemums. And, yes, April’s cherry blossoms may also come and go, however, one of their “moments” includes carpeting the ground below with their delicate pink and white petals.

“Flowers have long been admired and used by humans to beautify their environment but also as objects of romance, ritual, religion, medicine and as a source of food.” (Wikipedia). However, in my book, they need not be a source of painstaking labor. How true this is as both we — and the garden, grow older. As so many landscape styles and traditions including contemporary trends show, less is more.

On a more practical level, where do we go from here? Shrubs, grasses, ferns and other foliage plants, set within attractive — and enduring — hardscapes such as stone walls, small granite boulders, bird baths or other water features, generously make up for the more labor intensive and ephemeral flowers. Of course, not all are difficult and summer annuals will splash us with blossoms until late September’s frost. Ah,…but don’t most annuals demand deadheading, watering and fertilizing? And while most deciduous shrubs do flower (after all, most plants rely on cross-pollination), they need not require painstaking deadheading to look attractive. And they certainly don’t require staking.

With abundant and subtle shades of green that  run the gamut from silver blues to lime greens, a garden will look lush and distinguished. It is even exciting when jazzed up with variegated patterns and textures. Let’s not forget that many deciduous shrubs also come in shades of yellow (think Spirea ‘Mellow Yellow’), burgundy (think Smokebush) and even black. Sambucus or Elderberry ‘Black Lace’, aka “the poor man’s Japanese maple” is a knockout in any garden.

Smokebush

Finally, deciduous shrubs have the added advantage of participating in fall’s hot colors while evergreens hold their own and provide a reassurance that all is not lost.

This brings me to the loveliness of a garden with year around interest. As colors fade from the summer garden, I know I can look forward to splashes of color from the bright stems of my red-osier dogwoods (Cornus sericea ) or the less utilized lime green ‘Flaviramea’. And let’s not overlook berry producing shrubs such as cotoneaster, winterberry, and inkberry. Endowed with orange, fire engine reds or black shiny berries from fall to spring, they grow all the more stunning when seen against a carpet of white snow. Birds also love winterberries!

To expand the palette in the garden with colors reminiscent of straw, amber, copper and rust, ornamental grasses will always remain high on my list. Their summer inflorescences (grass flowers and seed heads) are dramatic and long lasting. Such inflorescences couldn’t be more graceful as the plants gently sway in the wind. With a little backlighting from a setting sun, grasses are pure magic. A visual delight.

Credit Rich Pomerantz

An Indonesian Fountain in my Berkshire Garden

What could be more soothing and delicious than walking out in your garden on a sun-packed, sweltering day and listening to the sound of water? Almost as good as a merry brook in your backyard, it’s the next best thing: a fountain.

After spending years scratching my head about how to incorporate water into my gardens — and not simply with a bird bath but something more “alive”, the answer  came from  Java.  Well, not quite. It came from an old high school friend and artist, Beck Balken who hops back and forth from Bali to the Berkshires. Having helped design his garden last year, we made a trade. Maybe Bali is next???

Upon seeing this elegant, 5′ high vase/fountain I was reminded of ancient Greek urns and Cycladic figures I’d once seen in an Athens museum. And although this fountain may look ancient in both form and color, (in this case, rust), it reflects the best of modern technology. With a silent little motor from below, the water almost imperceptibly trickles from the top, subtly bathing the vase’s walls. They glisten in the sun. All the senses awakened and assisted by a touch of imagination, one also might feel bathed in cool water.

To see more of Beck’s imports, check out: http://bagong.us/.

PS When our winters bring ice, hail and snow, these creatures won’t crack or disintegrate either. Not built of terracotta, instead they’re made from an ingenious mix of hardy fiber with a touch of cement.

Fountain in A Formal Garden

Masdevallia genus. It is found in the wild in northwestern Peru, where it is known as Gallo-Gallo, meaning "rooster" after the rooster-like red comb, crest and wattles of the flower. A national treasure of Peru, it is rumoured to have been cultivated by the Incas centuries ago.

“You can get off alcohol, drugs, women, food and cars, but
once you’re hooked on orchids, you’re finished. You never get
off orchids…never.” Joe Kunisch, orchid grower, Rochester, NY

There are places in Peru’s rain forest where, according to
Stig Dalström, a Swedish horticulturist, no one has ventured.
Such places are home to many yet to be discovered botanical
treasures.

The orchid species, the world’s oldest flowering plant,
dating back to the dinosaur age, is one such gold mine. “Peru
may one day be recognized as number one when it comes to
orchids.” explained Dalström when I met him recently in Peru.
Currently, Ecuador boasts 4000 orchid species with Columbia
and New Guinea next on the top ten list. As a point of
reference, orchids form the largest family of flowering plants,
with between 20,000 and 30,000 species currently identified.
Many more are waiting to be discovered.

Today, Dalström, a passionate orchid connoisseur,
botanical illustrator and former Curator of the Orchid
Identification Center at the Marie Selby Botanical Gardens in
Sarasota, Florida, is working on a documentary film series
entitled, “Wild Orchid Man”. Collaborating with Darryl Saffer
an American documentary film maker, composer and musician,
the two are gradually making their way into this rich and
diverse Peruvian biosphere. They also belong to the growing
number of people who are sharing the stories orchids tell.
Back in April, I had the good fortune to come across
Dalström and Saffer filming in Machu Picchu, the world-
renowned Inca site, considered one of the seven wonders of
the world. Also known as “The Lost City”, it was discovered just
a hundred years ago by Hiram Bingham, a Yale University
archeologist.

Working on their film “The Journey to Machu Picchu”,
the two happened to be staying at our ecolodge, Inkaterra
which also serves as headquarters for the ‘Reserva ecologica’.
With over 42,000 acres teeming with flora including 372 orchid
species and fauna such as an Andean bear on the endangered
species list, Inkaterra is an ecological success story. Formerly a
clear-cut tea plantation, it has reverted to its natural state
thanks to the vision of its founder, Joe Koechlin, an ardent
conservationist. Also a businessman he was the Peruvian film
producer for Werner Herzog’s films, “Aguirre, The Wrath of
God” and “Fitzcarraldo”.

While pointing out some of its botanical treasures, the
conservation program’s director, Carmen Soto, concurred with
the film makers that Peru’s biodiversity is one of the richest on
the planet.  Designated A Sanctuary for Natural Conservation in
1981, Machu Picchu has also been privy to the research of  the
Harvard University biologist and conservationist,  A.O. Wilson,
as well as the prestigious Missouri Botanical Garden. For the
film team, invited by Inkaterra, it was both a destination and a
gateway.

Until now, I had envisioned Machu Picchu,  (“Old Peak”, in
the native Quechua), as an Inca site, comparable to Angkhor
Wat in Cambodia. Built in the 15th century, just prior to the
Spanish conquistador, Pizarro’s invasion, as a majestic royal
city surrounded by terraces cascading down the steep
mountains, its cloud forest, host to countless species of birds,
butterflies, trees and epiphytes, is breathtakingly beautiful. As
Hiram Bingham romantically put it: “Not only has it great snow
peaks looming above the clouds more than two miles
overhead; gigantic precipices of many-colored granite …
foaming, glistening, roaring rapids, it has also, in striking
contrast, orchids and tree ferns, the delectable beauty of
luxurious vegetation and the mysterious witchery of the
jungle.”

Orchids indeed are bewitching. Susan Orlean’s book, “The
Orchid Thief”, about a man’s obsession with a rare and
mysterious orchid in the swamps of southern Florida was a
bestseller. And then there is the film, “Adaptation” starring
Meryl Streep.

Upon first meeting Stig Dalström in the Andes, I
wondered if he just might be “the” orchid thief. After all, as his
film associate, Darryl Saffer pointed out, he is known by
friends and associates as the “Wild Orchid Man”. In addition,
Orlean’s very same Florida orchid (Dendrophylax lindenii) is
the star of the first film of their series,“The Ghost Orchid
Swamp”. As a professional orchid taxonomist, however, it
should come as no surprise that Dalström would find himself
in the eye of a Florida hurricane, in this case, a famous
botanical legal hurricane in 2002 at the Marie Selby Botanical
Gardens in Sarasota.

It revolved around a Peruvian lady slipper,
Phragmipedium kovachii, that had been smuggled into Miami
by a Michael Kovach (and hence “baptized”, kovachii ). Not
wasting any time, Kovach brought it for official identification to
the Selby Gardens, known worldwide for its collection of
exquisite orchids. It seemed to be the perfect place; the
procedure however, was less than perfect.

According to a reporter, Craig Pitman, who covered the
story in depth for the St. Petersburg Times and is now writing
“The Scent of a Scandal”: “When Kovach carried that lady
slipper orchid into a roomful of scientists at Selby Gardens …
he was greeted by a simultaneous wave of eye-widening and
mouth opening.” No wonder. This was a gargantuan,
flamboyant, fuschia colored orchid.  And, it was like hitting the
jackpot for Selby.

At the time, Dalström was working as a volunteer
research associate on the Selby team that identified it and
published their findings thereby giving it official status. Not so
fast. The Peruvian Government soon asked the U.S. Fish and
Wildlife Service to investigate the matter and return the orchid.
(All species of Phragmipedium are protected under the
Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species or
CITES which prohibits their trade without proper supervision).
The legal saga which became a major scandal for the Gardens
dragged on for a couple of years. Numerous board members
resigned and the director of Selby was ousted.

In 2004, the U.S. District Court in Tampa, Florida fined
Kovach $1000 and placed him under probation for one year. A
colleague of Dalström’s wound up with two years of probation
and a fine of $2,000 and Selby was hit with a $5,000 fine. A
couple of ironies remain: the orchid still bears Kovach’s name
and — not surprisingly, the returned orchid died in a Lima
museum.

My curiosity piqued, I asked the film makers if one of the
lady slipper’s relatives might be lurking at Inkaterra. No such
luck. To encounter it one must travel deep into the Alto Mayo,
a large protected area that borders the Amazon in
northeastern Peru. While it’s not easy to penetrate, it will be
the location for another film, “The Mountains Of Amazonas”.
When asked if the renowned orchid might be included,
Dalström responded: “We tried to film the story about it but it
was not allowed. We were not able to secure permits from the
Peruvian government in time”.

How was the film series first conceived? “For years, Stig
and I talked about doing a series about orchids. We wanted a
different angle than the Discovery Channel’s. Our approach is
to cover environmental issues from a human interest
perspective. We want to combine art with science. Even though
Stig is a scientist, he is also botanical artist and I’m a musician
and composer.” Their hope is to see The National Geographic
Society take on the series for distribution. .

After Peru, where? Manitoba, Canada where they plan to
shoot: “Bears, Belugas and Wild Orchids”.

It should come as no surprise that in her 1995 article for the New Yorker, “Orchid Fever” Susan Orlean wrote: “… orchids seem to drive people crazy. The people who love orchids love them madly, but the passion for orchids is not necessarily a passion for beauty. Something about the form of an orchid
makes it seem almost more like a creature than a flower.”

Orchids — or, rather, peoples’ attitudes towards them
—are also the raison d’être of a multi-billion dollar industry. If
we can’t own a rare one, at least in films we can marvel at
them in their natural habitat.

"Ghost Orchid" by Stig Dalstrom