midterm week

On a bit of a hiatus this week, as the midterm crunch has descended. I will return next week with more photos. Meanwhile, look at this:

 A yellow lady slipper orchid, at the Philadelphia flower show. I'd never seen this species grown in a pot before. I love its graceful leaves.

Philadelphia Flower Show 2011

Let the kitsch-fest begin! A replica of one arch of the Eiffel Tower, at shrunken scale, looms ahead as you enter the show, surrounded by pink blooming cherry trees and tulips.

I am a sucker for flower shows. I love the combination of theatrical kitsch and delicate plants. I love the marvel of forcing all those plants on time, and then keeping them going indoors for two weeks (not to mention transporting them). Yes, it is probably a huge energy suck. Yes, not all of the plants make it to good homes afterwards. But it is a heaping dose of spring at a time of year when it seems to many as if spring is still far away (at least for Ithacans).

spring tease

It really is terribly ironic:  I drove south to Philadelphia hoping to find more springlike weather, and I found that in spades. What happens in Ithaca while I am gone? It snows, also in spades (shovel-fulls, to be precise). A foot and a half of heavy snow. Ugh. I should post a snow photo, to contrast with the spring-flower-filled photos below, but I don't want to give the snow any more publicity. Snow now completely covers the windows of my basement room, blocking out all but a thin, blue light. I want to flee again.

I am way too tired this evening to post anything more exciting, but I'll give you some eye candy.

They just look like they're singing, don't they? Since I recently posted some (comparatively thin and sad-looking) crocus photos, here is something different (not yet blooming in Ithaca, not for another month).

Winter aconite. I always forget the name of this flower, for some reason. Very sweet, with its little ruff of leaves.

photo credit: Kelly Shipman

Kelly snapped a photo of me taking a photo of the winter aconite. A characteristic pose, for me.

Souvenirs from the flower show, now decorating the bulletin board above my desk. I do not yet have a garden of my own (tragedy), so the seeds are for my parents. Other bulletin board accessories include a photo with friends from Senior Ball circa 2004, and the label of a mineral water from the town in Italy where I am returning at the beginning of April.
It was a wonderful weekend, all in all, and despite the snowy welcoming, I do feel invigorated, or I will right after I... zzzzz... snor... zzzz... wha... oh yes, hi. On Saturday, Kelly, Alice, and I roamed around Mt. Airy (me in cotton blouse and light jacket!), making highly satisfactory visits to the Trolley Car Diner (most impressive beer selection of any diner I've ever seen, wow), a yarn store, and a used-book shop, chronologically. I picked up some spicy red sock yarn and a lovely hardcover edition of The Annotated Alice in Wonderland, to replace my battered and coverless paperback version.
Last night in Philly it rained, hard, and the sound of the rain on the windows of Kelly's apartment made me feel cozy as we talked late into the night over mugs of tea. I am lucky to have such beautiful, intelligent friends and relations!

blue memory

*Sigh*    No current flowers today, as it is much more wintry outside, with a stiff wind all day. Back to the memory files. This Campanula was growing wild along a rail-turned-trail in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, near the Bois de Boulogne, last summer. Mike and I had a wonderful picnic later that day, while watching a coot family build their nest.

here they come!

Finally, the moment you've been waiting for: photos of flowers that I actually photographed today, outdoors, in Ithaca, NY. Sure, those little crocuses look a bit anemic, but they're doing the best they can!

Okay, okay, a bit of a caveat: there is a little hill on Tower Road (near the landscape architecture studio), between Garden Ave and East Ave, adjacent to the Azalea Garden, which seems to be sheltered enough that the snowdrops and crocuses bloom there first. A microclimate, perhaps. I've been keeping an eye on this hillside, and on my way to the library today noticed snowdrops poking through the leaves in between clumps of snow. I love the French name for snowdrop: perce-neige, which literally means "pierce snow." It evokes for me the feeling that this tiny plant is dealing a blow to winter. En garde, hiver! Le printemps avance!

As I was kneeling in the mud and leaves with my camera, I heard a shout from across the street. "Liz!" I turned. "Ha! I knew it was you," said my classmate Matt. "Who else would it be?"

Ha, it's true.

Dendrobium kingianum 'Roy'

I purchased 'Roy' in spring 2009, at the Smith College Botanic Garden orchid sale. He has fragrant purple flowers in abundance when he blooms. The drawing at left depicts only one of his "branches." What are they really called? Bulb-lets?

To be honest, though I painted the picture on the left last night, the underlying pencil sketch was done last winter, when Roy sent up numerous spikes of flowers. This winter, he has not bloomed, though it is prime orchid blooming time and all my other orchids (except for the teeny baby Phal, which is still nor more than the size of my thumbnail) are blooming. Why? Well, it's my own fault. While he was blooming last winter, I overwatered him, thinking that surely putting up so many flowers must be taxing. As a result, instead of storing up flower-energy during the summer, Roy sent up a huge crop of clonal babies (keikis). This, I read, is a dendrobium's response to receiving surplus water during what is supposed to be its dry season. Oops. Those babies, however, after they sent down lots of fibrous white roots, were transferred to tiny pots, and given to friends (I still have one unclaimed. Any takers in Ithaca?). I'm keeping him dry right now, in the hopes that he will bloom next year. On the right is a color photo of my D. kingianum 'Roy,' alongside Oncidium Twinkle 'White Twinkle.' Twink has been banished to the corner of the kitchen under the grow-light, where she is now blooming her silly head off, because her flowers smell like cheap vanilla perfume, with top-notes of putrid fruit. Roy (coincidentally, also the name of my future father-in-law) smells like fresh iris and violets.

Edit: Since writing this post, I have taken a look at my orchids, and one of the offspring of Roy is growing a flower stalk! Hooray! The parent plant is also showing some swelling buds. There will be flowers after all, just a little late. 

poppy, Château d'Acquigny

Very full weekend, excuse the lack of posting recently. Last Friday-Saturday were spent riding the rails of New York state, for a studio project. Sunday was greenhouse work. Mondays are just crazy-busy for me. Man, I love teaching, but it is exhausting!

I'm working on some watercolors to post here, but (bien sûr) with all that's been going on its been really hard to find a non-exhausted moment when I can paint. I'm always stealing time from something else to have a wee moment of pause. Like now, I am supposed to be in class... A tout à l'heure!

tiger lily, Parc André Citroën, Paris

Isn't this orange color just magnificent? This lily was glowing in one of the modernist bosquets of the Parc André Citroën, a wonderfully geometrical park in the XVe arrondissement in Paris.The park was designed by a group of architects and architectes-paysagistes (landscape architects) in the 1990s. While we were there last summer, there was a weather balloon mounted in the center of the park (is it still there? a semi-permanent fixture?). Square screens on four sides of the balloon changed color to indicate air quality (red=bad quality, green=good quality). The immense balloon was tethered to the ground with cables, and visitors could ride in its basket for an incredible view of Paris and of the park. I had never been in a balloon before, and the idea of a balloon view of Paris seemed too perfect to pass up. After a moment of extreme vertigo as we climbed higher and higher, and the basket swayed queasily, I steadied myself and snapped as many photos as I could manage (double click on images for larger views).

 

In the second photo of the three above, you can see the Tour Montparnasse off in the distance.  As you can see in the photo immediately above, there were ugly construction gates set up throughout the park, as the water system was being refurbished. Some of the water features were not functioning, but I am sure the work is completed now (if anyone reading this is heading off to Paris soon and wants to visit a really neat park, and if so I am envious). At the "head" of the park are two large glasshouses housing strange tropical plants, complete with informational placards. Several other, smaller glasshouses are placed near the bosquets (you can just barely make them out in the middle photo). Despite the construction work, many people were using the park, including a full-blown birthday party going on in one of the bosquets, and these adorable kids kicking a soggy football through the fountain between the two big glasshouses. 

passionflower

This tiny passiflora was blooming in Cornell's Liberty Hyde Bailey Greenhouse (now sadly closed due to its deteriorating condition) last February. The elaborate flower pictured here was only about the size of a dime.

Rose, Parc et Jardin d'Acquigny, France

The Parc et Jardin du Château Acquigny has some beautiful roses, of the old, fragrant, billowy variety. My fiancé and I visited here the day after he proposed this past summer. The family to whom Château Acquigny belongs are friends of mine, ever since I stayed with them for two weeks in 2004, during a horticulture internship. It was romantic and nostalgic to visit again, as this was one of those places I knew I wanted to take Mike to, but never really thought it would happen. Aside from roses, a very pretty orangerie, and peaceful pastoral scenery, the park also includes some enormous, amazing trees, including two Sequoias and some immense London Plane Trees. If you ever find yourself in Paris and wanting to take a day trip, Acquigny is 45 minutes from Gare St. Lazare, though when you get there you'll need to take a bus into Louviers or call a taxi, though Acquigny is close enough to Louviers that you could bike the rest of the way. The d'Esnevals are really lovely people and may show you around in person. They have recently converted a graceful old carriage house into a gallery space, and frequently hold art events and concerts. Parc et Jardins d'Acquigny

Cherry Blossoms, Kelvingrove Park, Glasgow, Scotland

Geez, way to drop the ball already, Liz. That's okay, I know you understand. Maybe I should change the name of this posting event to "flower-every-day-I-can-manage-to-post." Nah, too long.