Tag Archives: garden

Sunflower Power

10 Mar

Lately, we have been lulled into thinking spring is around the corner, with a warm day or two and lots of sun — only to be brought back to our cold, overcast, wet or sometimes snowy reality. This state of affairs got me thinking about (ie, longing for) flowers, and sunflowers in particular. If you grow sunflowers, you may know all there is to know about them. I did not, though I did learn very early on that our intrepid squirrels could scale our giant sunflowers under cover of darkness and chew off the beautiful heads, leaving decapitated 9-foot stalks in their scheming rodent wake.

I did know a few other things, such as the origins of the scientific name for the common sunflower: Helianthus annuus. Helianthus comes from the Greek “helios,” meaning sun, and “anthos,” meaning flower. Sunflowers are also heliotropic, ie, young sunflowers follow the sun’s position from sunrise to sunset. They do this until they reach maturity, at which point they stay facing East, which allows the sunflowers to get warmer more quickly (and thus, to attract more pollinators).

Another thing I knew was that each sunflower head is made of hundreds and maybe thousands of smaller flowers, which means it is an inflorescence (same as alliums). The bright yellow (or sometimes, red or rusty orange) petals surrounding the sunflower head are called ray florets. The real, tiny flowers are in the central part of the flower head and are called disc florets. In the photos below, you can see the dark brown anthers of the disc florets topped with pollen; each of these flowers will produce a sunflower seed.

Finally, one last thing I knew, but did not really think about until now is that the sunflower’s disc florets are arranged in a spiral pattern that follows the Fibonacci sequence, a mathematical sequence in which each number is the sum of the two preceding ones. If you count the spirals in a sunflower head (which can be done in different ways), you will usually end up with a Fibonacci number (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, …). Why? Because the pattern makes efficient use of available space for seed formation. The growing seeds press on each other, creating geometric patterns. The Fibonacci sequence is found everywhere in nature (such as in pineapples, pinecones, broccolo romanesco, sea shells, tree branches, storms, galaxies, and even the distribution of seeds in a raspberry, to name just a few occurrences).

This is where my knowledge of sunflowers ended. Then, I discovered a couple more reasons to admire them:

    1. Every part of a sunflower — not just the seeds — can be eaten:

    • Sunflower sprouts can be used in the same way as alfalfa or bean sprouts, in a stir fry or a spring salad or Thai salad.
    • Jerusalem artichokes (aka sunroots, sunchokes) are a type of sunflower whose roots are edible; prepare them as you would other root vegetables: roast, sauté, fry, mash, or puree them — or shred or slice them raw.
    • Sunflower stalks can be eaten like celery when small and slender. You can also make flour from the stalks. (OR… dry the stalks and use them to support other plants in the garden the following year.)
    • Younger, smaller sunflower leaves can be eaten in salads, and older, bigger leaves can be boiled and sauteed like collards or other leafy greens; removing the central rib may make them a little less bitter. Some people also prepare tea from dried sunflower leaves and/or petals.
    • The flowers (ie, ray florets) are edible; try them in a salad.
    • The opened (giant) sunflower heads (not fully mature, with seeds that are still white) can be grilled, if you are feeling particularly adventurous.
    • The unopened sunflower heads can be prepared in a way similar to artichokes.

    2. Sunflowers can absorb some serious toxins. Because of this ability, they are called hyperaccumulators. When a reactor exploded at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant in Ukraine in 1986, it released radioactive elements into the environment; thousands of sunflowers were planted to help remove these elements from the soil and ponds near the disaster site. Using plants to cleanse the environment is called phytoremediation. Today, sunflowers are the international symbol for nuclear disarmament (and as the national flower of Ukraine, they are also symbols of solidarity, resilience, and hope).

    Day Trip from Rome: Garden of Ninfa

    19 Mar

    Spring is in the air and that means the Garden of Ninfa, which has been called the most romantic garden in the world, will soon be open for its limited 2017 season. Ninfa is the Italian word for nymph. It is an apt name for this sylvan place that time forgot, with its flowers, trees, and gurgling streams, and its ruins covered in vines.


    Located near Cisterna Latina 75 km (46 miles) southeast of Rome, Ninfa has a long and colorful history. A thousand years ago, it was a small town by a flowing stream, home to a temple dedicated to the water nymphs from whence it got its name. By 1100 it had become an important and wealthy place next to the only north-south road that was passable when the Appia Antica was flooded.

      
    Pope Alexander III was crowned there in 1159, but the town’s honor and glory would not last long; the Pope’s enemy the Emperor Barbarossa sacked the town. It eventually passed into the hands of the Caetani family, though it suffered a long and steady decline starting in the 1300s. During subsequent centuries, nature took its course, engulfing the abandoned medieval town, which faded from sight.


    But not from memory. In the early 1920s, Gelasio Caetani decided to reclaim the swampy land via a custom-built drainage and irrigation system, and establish a garden amid the ruined town with the help of his English-born mother and American-born sister-in-law. Gelasio’s’ niece Leilia Caetani and husband Hubert Howard continued the family’s work. They imported plants from all over the world; the 8-hectacre (20-acre) site is home to more than 1,000 plant species, including dozens of roses, clematis, climbing hydrangea, water irises, ornamental cherry trees, cypress, magnolias, oaks, and poplars, among many others.

     
      

    Today, a foundation maintains the garden, which is only open on certain dates and is accessible only via a guided tour. In 2017, visiting season kicks off on April 1. The majority of open days are in the spring, though the season runs through November 5. Check online for dates and to buy tickets–and if you are going to go, get there early. If you have a few minutes before your tour starts (or after it ends), you can cross the road and visit the Horti Nympharum, a classic citrus garden across the lane complete with fountain, a family of swans, and castle ruins to wander through. There is a separate entry fee for that garden, but it is worth the price.

      
    Finally, if you are making a day of it, head up to the walled hill town of Sermoneta for lunch; the town itself is charming, and the views of the valley from above are gorgeous.

      
      

    View of Garden of Ninfa from above

    Cypress Knees

    14 Dec

    I’d heard of a bee’s knees, but not a tree’s knees. Turns out cypress trees have knees, as we discovered when walking through the gardens at Historic London Town last weekend. We rounded a corner and stumbled upon an eerie landscape: a tall Bald Cypress tree surrounded by what looked like little stumps or treelets poking up from a blanket of leaves. It was almost as if we had been transported to the Island of Misfit Trees.

    Turns out these little* woody projections are called cypress knees, and they are a bit of a mystery. The knees grow vertically from the tree’s roots, but no one quite agrees on what function they serve. Normally, they are found in swampy areas. This Bald Cypress and its knees were in Historic London Town’s Bog Garden–a very moist area, but not one that was under water (or at least not when we were there).  One theory is that the knees may help get oxygen to the tree’s roots, especially in the case of trees that are growing in several feet of water. But scientists who tested this theory found that the knees aren’t very good conveyors of oxygen, as one might expect from what is essentially a very woody stump. Another theory is that the knees provide the tree with stability. But no one really knows for sure; there is another school of thought suggesting that perhaps these knees serve no purpose at all…. Except to keep us wondering.


    *These knees are still relatively little — but they can actually get quite tall.