Sailing to Ravenna

 

Cupola mosaic in the Baptisterio Ariano 

I confess, we rode a train--we did not sail into Ravenna. I must admit I am a devout secular humanist, but have a peculiar (and very real love) of Medieval Greek art--especially fresco, architecture and mosaic work. Coming to Ravenna, I felt much of the awe Yeats describes so well in his immortal yearnings in "Sailing to Byzantium". As irony has it, Ravenna hoards the lion's share of early Byzantine art: eight stunning masterpieces of mosaic (there was a ninth that was taken to Berlin--a story for another time). The only other comparable mosaic of the Justinianic period is on Mount Sinai, in Egypt. 

I don't know that anyone could determine accurately, but I suspect there may have once been a hundred--or far more--such churches across the Mediterranean--all of which had their artwork removed by Iconoclasts between 726-843 when there was an all out effort to destroy all religious imagery involving humans. The only comparable mass destruction of art I can compare it to would be the Cultural Revolution in Red China when trillions of dollars worth or ancient art, manuscripts, buildings were smashed, burned and destroyed.  Ravenna's remaining mosaics survived when the Lombards ousted the Byzantines--and St. Catherine's survived because it was such a backwater. My Byzantine art professor (John Hoag of the University of Colorado) described walking ankle deep through fallen tesserae in ruined Byzantine cathedrals in North Africa.

I photographed the image above yesterday (April 8)--it was the last of the 8 Unesco World Heritage Sites in Ravenna we visited--and I think the oldest. It was constructed during the reign of Theodoric, who believed in Arian Christianity--the smallness of Christ in the river Jordan reflects the Arian conviction in Christ's subordination to God. Theodoric grew up in Constantinople and likely used artisans from that city both for construction and decoration of his baptistery. When Ravenna was re-captured by East Rome ("Byzantium") the baptistery was decommissioned and a very similar "Orthodox" baptistery was built not far away. Below you can see what the cupola mosaic looks like at that building.

Cupola of the Baptisterio neoniano 

There are numerous stylistic differences between the two cupolas (aside from the size of Jesus)--the principal one I would naturally notice was that the Arian date palms were replaced with very stylized Acanthus plants.

I have known about the Ravenna since I was a child and then studied these in Dr. Hoog's incredible class 52 years ago. As I have gradually, over the decades, visited and revisited the dozen or so Byzantine churches with wall mosaics in Greece and Turkey that survived the nearly a millenium or more, I am left with only a handful yet to visit--mostly 10th Century masterpieces in Sicily (and of course Egypt).

Each time I do so I experience some of the ecstasy Yeats describes so well--particularly powerfully in the third verse I transcribe below:

III

O sages standing in God's holy fire

As in the gold mosaic of a wall,

Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,

And be the singing-masters of my soul.

Consume my heart away; sick with desire

And fastened to a dying animal

It knows not what it is; and gather me

Into the artifice of eternity.

O Captain! my captain!

 I am not sure why I decided to carve a woodblock with the face of Agamemnon almost 60 years ago. 18 years ago on April 1 (a day I never forgot) I saw a very tall man come striding a bit gingerly  through a forest of cacti and succulents in Mitchell Hall at Denver Botanic Gardens (the last hours of the annual Spring sale of that Society) and someone said "That's your new boss!" My first glimpse of Brian Vogt. 

I never dreamed I'd see the enormous positive changes he would bring to DBG (and all of us on staff). His many accomplishments will be publicized and sung for a long time to come. But all of us who worked with him can share the other bonds we'd formed. For instance, Brian and I share a love of Classics (both studied with Hunter Rawlings III at the University of Colorado--later three times president of Cornell University). And our biweekly meetings often veered into the ruff of politics or Roman or Greek history. I was astonished by his memory for detail and incredible intellect.

I told Brian about the woodblock I'd done, and how I thought it resembled him. I hesitated to have my niece (who has it on her wall) photograph it since the face looks so tortured and gaunt--so unlike this extraordinarily positive man. I am startled to see how the cancer, radiation and chemo--not mention two heart attacks accelerated the resemblance.

 I don't have the heart to seek out and share an actual picture of him.  R.I.P. Brian. My sadness will never obscure the love, respect and awe I will forever hold for you, Boss.

Inklings of spring

Townsendia hookeri

Easter this year doesn't officially occur till April 20--almost a month away, Easter daisies don't really pay attention to religion however--these may even be in seed in a month! We were blessed with a visit from Sean Hogan--owner of Cistus Design--and one of the greatest specialty nurseries on the globe. We subjected Sean to a conference and endless partying--but his heart resides in nature.  We had to take him to a favorite spot north of Boulder in compensation! 

Townsendia hookeri

I have visited this site dozens of times over the decades (as has every botanist hereabouts). It is full of a great variety of treasures. But it's also very fragile. So, please, no big field trips or tours come here! The townsendias were rather sparse this year--as was the local Physaria. One thing about nature (or humanity for that matter): stasis is anathema.

Viola nuttallii

Found from the Great Plains to nearly alpine heights, like so many common plants, I haven't found this as easy to grow as I'd like. Funny how rare endemics often grow like weeds and common stuff doesn't!

Physaria bellii

There were a few of these scattered about (not the hundreds I'm used to)--this was the only one blooming!

Physaria bellii

I almost prefer it in just its rosette! Although the swollen seed pods are pretty cool. 

Sean Hogan photographing Townsendia hookeri

Here's the Master at it: his pictures are always better than mine! Harrumph.

Niobrara shale outcrop

This formation outcrops from Wyoming well down the Front Range--circumscribing the range of the Physaria above. This spot is especially rich--and the crevice garden style outcrops are irresistible.

Mahonia repens

We ventured up Lefthand Canyon a bit further on: I predicted we'd find mountain ball cactus on any south-facing rocky slope. But first we found this rather photogenic sprig of "Oregon grape"--obviously sent to greet our Oregonian. I know the genus has been subsumed by Berberis by gene jockeys. They are a distinctive subset of that giant genus--so I like to still acknowledge that. So THERE, gene jockeys!

Pediocactus simpsonii

 At first I thought we'd been skunked--but of course it was Sean who spied a little colony a bit further up the slope. Our Front Range pedios are some of the best, often with dark pink (wonderfully fragrant) flowers, and spines that are sometimes dark brown, or golden--or right west of Denver they're snow white. THIS should have been our State Cactus (don't you agree) rather than the more widespread claret cup.

Now we can officially say Spring has sprung! The magnolias, forsythias and Prunus and more around Denver agree! It's gonna be a heck of a glorious week for color!

Jackalope: bioengineering joke?

Intrepid rock gardeners from the Rocky Mountain Chapter in Wyoming

Hard to believe ten years have passed since we took this picture--in Douglas, Wyoming, I believe. We were returning from a magical five days in NW Wyoming (a tour--filled up now--will do the same this June). That trip was memorable--the tour was designed for the American Public Gardens Association--and no one signed up. [Poor them!] Since we'd contracted with the St. Thomas the Apostle Retreat Center for rooms and board, I felt obligated to follow through--and persuaded 8 dear friends to cough up enough money to cover costs (van, gas, room, board). It was an outrageous success!

Eritrichium elongatum on the Bighorns

 None of us suspected at the time that the predictably good flower displays of Wyoming would be off the charts that year. I have never had a harder time driving a vehicle: the vanload of flower lovers were screaming "STOP THE VAN" every ten minutes. Had I heeded their calls, we'd probably still be up there...as it was I was glared at a lot for not stopping enough. We did have a schedule you know!

I can't promise you Superbloom (yet! The snows have been good and the promise is there)...and I am sure bioengineering has yet to produce a Jack Rabbit-Pronghorn hybrid. I am afraid the tour to Cody, the Bighorns, Beartooth and Yellowstone is SOLD OUT! But there is still our AGM in Cheyenne to look forward to:

But I can assure you that if you sign up for Peaks and Prairies this June you'll have a wonderful time--great talks, great field trips and fantastic venues. Click 

here https://www.ticketleap.events/tickets/cheyenne-botanic-gardens/nargs-conference

Sign up, and I'll see you there!

Crocus season of remembrance

Crocus vernus v albiflorus

Snowdrops are starting to go over. Snow is predicted for this evening--and of course the brunt of spring crocus blossoming is just begun.

Everyone is a gardener in March--and most of us have way too many pictures of the early flowers--like crocuses (snowdrops, winter aconite, pasqueflowers). And even so we keep taking pictures of them.

White flowered forms of Crocus vernus are sold everywhere in the fall. But these are not what you see above (the true wild form) but what Reginald Farrer called "the Dutch Fatties". At least I'm pretty sure he did--or something demeaning along those lines. The Dutch Fatties are what Nurseries usually have in their bins, and what most people plant.

This is one of the most "hallowed" crocuses I grow--tracing back to 1983 (Click here to see more information about it) planted in late October. I must inquire where we got the plant--I can almost guarantee the nursery is no longer in existence (Mars of Haslemere? Avon Bulbs?). Check back in a week--I might have figured it out. [Boy! Was I wrong or what? see below]*

It thrived in its little alcove in the Rock Alpine Garden and a corm mysteriously migrated to my garden where it was similarly happy and has begun to spread.

But that is not the end of the story! In June of 1986 I co-led a tour to Switzerland for Denver Botanic Gardens with Ed and Hope Connors. This was just a week (or perhaps days) before the Second Interim International Rock Plant Conference I helped organize in Boulder that attracted over 400 registrants and perhaps 150 volunteers and locals...very busy times, those!

The bus was driving over Maloja pass towards Pontresina in the Swiss Engadine (my first trip there--I keep dreaming of returning). I saw a few primulas out the window, flickering past, and lots of snow. Things were going by too quickly! At one point I said "let's stop the bus: I think there are some crocus here" (a ridiculous thing for me to say. I had never been to the Alps hitherto, and honestly didn't know beans about crocuses). It was a bit chilly, but all twenty or so participants got off the bus--all of them following me--and I was thrilled to be treading the alpine turf--seeing some gentians here and there...we kept walking. And walking...and I realized I better pull a rabbit out of my hat or SOMETHING... and a quarter mile or so from the bus I spied a snowbank. I vaguely recalled they liked snowbanks. As we rounded a bend--sure enough all around the base of the snowbank there was a carpet of glistening white Crocus vernus v. albiflorus--just like the ones I photographed this week in my home garden. (See above).

For decades Ed would smile that bright smile of his and praise my clairvoyance about this incident. Ed is a hero of mine I have never properly acknowledged hitherto in my blog: he was bigger than life and his memory shimmers whenever I think of him. Yes, I must blog about this tall, handsome man who has had such a profound impact on Denver (and beyond) that's never been properly celebrated.

And needless to say when my little (but burgeoning) colony of white crocus blooms, it brings with it a gust of alpine breeze and I'm transported for a few moments to Switzerland and I shed half my years!

Funny, isn't it, how almost every plant we grow has a story attached. And often memory of a smile of a friend long gone.

*I asked our indefatigable (and awesome) Plant Records office where the bulbs came from and they responded: "PJ Christian Minera Wrexham Clwyd," which in turn brought forth a rush of memories: I visited Paul Christian in April of 1981--hard to believe it was 44 years ago! And most amazingly, he is still in business as https://www.rareplants.co.uk/   How cool is that?

Yuccarama! The untold story

Yucca faxoniana (left) and Y. thompsoniana (right) [2010]

Most first time visitors to Denver Botanic Gardens have been surprised to the large yuccas that flank the entrance to the main Boetcher building. There is a pretty good story behind them. The accesson number indicates it was accessioned in the year 2000--here you can see how much it grew in ten years--hang on to your hat--it grew a lot more subsequently!

Yucca faxoniana (lef), Y. thompsoniana (center)  and Y. rostrata (right) (2005?)

I think this is an even earlier picture--you can see the Y. faxoniana barely reaches the top of the door--maybe 7' tall. Yucca rostrata has photobombed on the right--there are a wealth of yuccas in what USED to be called the Crossroads gardens--six or more species--and a dozen or more treeform yuccas, almost all of which were donated to us by Mountain States nursery in Arizona.

Anoher view from 2010--Faxon's yucca grew well above the door here...back to history: Dan Johnson--now Assistant Director of Horticulture at DBG overseeing much of the outdoor gardens--has always had a love of Arizona. So much so that he now has a gorgeous second home in Tucson. For decades, however, he'd dash off to the desert whenever he could. He was planning a trip to the Sonoran when I suggested he drop in on Mountain States (I'd spoken at a conference with their CEO, Ron Gass) and see if he couldn't get a few of their new offerings for us to test...

Now we're at 2013--starting to leap up a tad!

I was thinking they'd give us a few gallons of novel Hesperaloes, for instance. Dan arranged a visit and was surprised to be greeted by a number of very interested MSN staff: "We've been thinking about Denver and would love to send some plants for trial" or words to that effect. Neither Dan nor I expected a very large semi-truck to park in front of DBG with a dozen or more enormous yuccas in large boxes. "Surely the most expensive annuals we'll ever plant here" I thought. Of course MSN knew they'd be hardy--and in the quarter century they've grown here they've thrived, some blooming spectacularly every year--even after our occasional Midwestern winter with lows below -20F!

We're up to 2020--after a typical March 21 snowstorm. That's Hesperaloe funifera on the right hand side, incidentally--another of their gifts that's performed fantastically.

TA DA! Here they are now!

I just took this picture on February 19: we thought the yuccas were enormous when they arrived in their boxes--maybe 5' tall at most. Faxon's now must rise to at least 20' and still growing. Mountain States (and their competitors) have had a field day selling these in the Denver area. A lot of visitors think they're palm trees! 

Yucca rostrata

All the various gardens clustered around the Crossroads (effectively the overture to a walk around the York Street gardens) have large groupings of various tree yuccas. Informally, gradually the whole area was dubbed "Yuccarama" by the staff--a name that seems to have stuck. I even saw it on the Gardens' handout map once. It is an appropriate name after all!

They are lovely any time of year, but when the Y. rostrata bloom on full moon nights the effect is magical!

They even upstaged the Chihuly exhibit when it was here! Of course, they are a wonderful biogeographical reminder that our Colorado flora has a large element of Madrean plants--plants whose center of origin is in Mexico. Much of Colorado was a Spanish colony once, and try as we may to exile and deny immigrants from the South--that's where much our characteristic flora--cacti and yuccas especially--have their centers of Origin. The orange fellow notwithstanding, we're really just North Mexico floristically! And these are proof...

Three more good reasons to attend "Peaks to Prairie" in Cheyenne this June!

Mike Kintgen and Kenton Seth

Two of the keynote speakers at Peaks to Prairie--the North American Rock Garden Society's annual meeting in Cheyenne this June--happen to live in Colorado. I know I am a good person, because these two relatively young (compared to superannuated me) gardeners have gone far ahead of me when it comes to what I treasure most. And I'm not TOO jealous or resentful...(just a tad)...

 Mike Kintgen has been Curator of the Rock Alpine Garden (something I did myself for quite a while): I am humbled by his extraordinary knowledge of all manner of hardy plants--he's eclipsed me by far with North American natives and woodies for instance... And he possesses many other dimensions...too many to touch on! His skills at presentation are incredible--he just spoke last weekend in Germany to the prestigious Perennial symposium at Grünberg--for the SECOND time! He gets around...

Kenton at the NARGS conference in Steamboat Springs

Thanks to the Crevice Garden, which he co-authored with Paul Spriggs (another stellar talent) Kenton is no longer a secret. What most people do not know is that his knowledge and curiosity extend far beyond crevices gardens--he is a pioneer in no-water gardening in a borderline desert region--and has a passion for bulbs, succulents, grasses and all manner of woodies extending far beyond the tiny rock garden realm. His design eye matches his plantsmanship. I have heard him speak a dozen or more times--always fresh and new and full of wisdom far beyond his years. Kenton is one to follow! And one not to miss!

Connor Smith

A Scotsman gardening at a great Dutch Garden, I became aware of Connor through Social Media (the same way I met "Liberto Dario"--one of many reasons I can't be too hard on "Farcebook"). Although I have not met Connor face to face, I've traveled on a tour to Armenia with his partner and fellow gardener, Marloes Adamse--doesn't that count?

Connor's resume includes stints at RBG Edinburgh, The Alpine Garden at Schachen and now Utrecht--all gems.  Like his American counterparts, Connor is an amazing traveler: I have learned much from the posts he shares, and it's obvious he is at the forefront of a new generation of great plantsmen. 

And there are more fantastic speakers in the lineup for this conference! Don't forget, in addition to hearing the latest (and best) of what they're up to, you get to rub shoulders and chat at dinners, on buses at the plant sale and wonderful places we shall tour.

There are no end of issues in our lives. We can fret about politics (lots to despair of should you choose to wallow in the mire). We can agonize over climate change. The world has always been full of problems--greater or lesser--and suffering never solved them.

I believe that empowering and learning from the new vanguard will be key to beginning to get a handle on the only thing in the world that matters. And that's the future!

Hope to see you in Cheyenne! Sign up right here.