This entry of Botany Photo of the Day honours Judy Newton, who is officially retiring today from UBC Botanical Garden. Judy worked at the garden for seventeen years, and ended her career as the garden's education coordinator. She will be sorely missed, particularly for her warmth and spirit.

When I asked Judy what plant she would like on Botany Photo of the Day for her retirement, she replied “Dierama” (they are in full glory in the alpine garden right now), so here's one for you, Judy, though the photograph was taken last year, I must admit.

I could write more about this plant, but it would pale in comparison to the account written recently by Hugh Glen of KwaZulu-Natal Herbarium for the South African National Biodiversity Institute. Check it out: Dierama reynoldsii.

I am a richer person for having experienced Ponderosa pine, if the measure of wealth is the accumulation of delight.

Perhaps Pinus ponderosa is too commonplace to warrant such praise, but for all the tens of thousands of trees of it that I have seen, I've yet to regard it with the contempt of familiarity. Instead, I find some interest in each one that I can afford some attention to, which makes me a distracted driver on highways surrounded by it (I shouldn't be allowed to drive in the region of Spokane, Washington...).

Why the effusive praise? I love the warm, cinnamon plates of bark interrupted by the black vertical fissures, which I appreciate both from a distance and right up close (I'll feature a close-up photograph of the bark someday soon). I like to explore the stands of the trees; they are generously-spaced and airy, allowing sunlight to reach the forest floor. But most of all, I delight in walking up to a tree that is baking in the sun, sticking my nose right against the heated bark no matter who my company might be, and inhaling deeply the rich scent of vanilla with a hint of butterscotch. To me, this is priceless.

Photograph taken near Merritt, British Columbia, just outside of the Harmon Lake Demonstration Forest.

Dotted here and there amongst the sagebrush along the south side of Lac Du Bois Grasslands Provincial Park is this beauty: Calochortus macrocarpus, or sagebrush mariposa lily. In the book Plants of Southern Interior British Columbia, the authors point out that “mariposa” means butterfly in Spanish. You can likely see the resemblance.

Unfortunately, the authors also point out that Calochortus macrocarpus is a tasty plant for cattle, one of the reasons it is now quite uncommon. To whit:

“Sagebrush mariposa lily is highly palatable to livestock and it will disappear from highly grazed areas. This species was once widespread, but it is now considerably less common and harvesting the flowers or bulbs is discouraged because it destroys the entire plant.”

Miller, Allen and Antos, in the Canadian Journal of Botany 82(12): 1790-1799 (2004), observed that individual plants of Calochortus macrocarpus can remain dormant (i.e., not emerging above ground during a a growing season) for a period of one to four years (source / abstract: Dormancy and flowering in two mariposa lilies (Calochortus) with contrasting distribution patterns.). This seems to be a strategy by the plant to avoid unfavourable environmental conditions in a particular year, allowing it to instead grow within an environmental regime that is more favourable to eventual reproduction.

In Botany Photo of the Day news, “The Golden Swamp”, a weblog that showcases open content for learning, featured this site on June 21.

Ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa) is seen in the distance, eking out an existence. It is perched on the eroded bottom of the long-gone, ancient Tranquille Lake northwest of present-day Kamloops, British Columbia (Google Maps link centred on the area where this photograph was taken - zoom in for a close-up). This is the 15 000ha Lac Du Bois Grasslands Provincial Park, one of three provincial parks that protect British Columbia grasslands.

Photographed while on a southern ascent of Mara Hill (in the southeast portion of the park) I was struck by the lines of both the near and distant rockforms. The pine appearing in the groove was the icing on the cake.

I wasn't searching for any specific plants, but I did find one I've always wanted to see (I'll feature it tomorrow - it's cool). The point of the trip was to see hoodoos, naturally-formed columns of rock. The hoodoos of this area do not seem to be well-known, perhaps overshadowed by the Deadman's Creek Hoodoos further northwest. I still thought they were impressive, including the one that I've dubbed Rabbit Eating Douglas Fir Hoodoo.

I was planning on using this entry to also highlight the BC Grasslands Blog, but I see that it is being abandoned, and they are pursuing a newsletter instead. Somewhat disappointing.

Guest-blogging today is Douglas Justice -- Daniel.

Carrierea calycina is a rarely cultivated deciduous or semi-evergreen tree native to southern China known for its large, glossy leaves and extraordinary flowers, which are comprised of large, creamy, cup-shaped, densely pubescent calyses (there are no petals), surrounding either fuzzy, spindle-shaped carpels (on female trees) or masses of stamens (on male trees). Until very recently, it was only known in the West from a very few old plants in British gardens. These were originally derived from seed collected by E.H. “Chinese” Wilson in the early part of the last century, and although Wilson thought the species had great promise as a garden plant, his optimism evidently did not prove well-founded (according to the commentary in W.J Bean's seminal Trees and Shrubs Hardy in the British Isles). Recently, however, Peter Wharton, Curator of the David C. Lam Asian Garden recollected this species in the Dashahe Cathaya Reserve in Guizhou, China. Seed of this collection was disseminated widely, both locally and in the UK.

Plants of Carrierea calycina in the Asian Garden at UBC (planted in 1995) have not flowered, though they are growing very strongly and look wonderful. One of the local seed recipients was Francisca Darts, who raised a fine specimen in her garden in South Surrey (near Vancouver). Her tree, a multi-stemmed specimen planted in the open, flowered heavily this year, to the delight of all who saw it, and showed itself to be a female. We recently learned that a female plant in the Hampshire garden of esteemed horticulturist and plant collector Roy Lancaster, flowered last spring, as did a male plant in a garden two counties to the east (in Kent). We learned this from Roy himself, as he was visiting UBC during his stay for the Hardy Plant Society Study Weekend in Vancouver and saw our plants. We hope that when our plants flower at UBC that we'll have a suitable pair close enough to transfer pollen successfully. These handsome trees appear to be quite adaptable in this area, although their hardiness has not been thoroughly tested. Perhaps Wilson's reputation can be salvaged, yet.

Fifth in a series of five photographs featuring plants showcased in UBC Botanical Garden's newly-released book: “The Jade Garden - New and Notable Plants from Asia”.

Kashmir sage, as written by Brent Hine in “The Jade Garden”:

“Every gardener I know loves Phlomis. There is something about this genus's soft, fuzzy look that gives it universal appeal. Phlomis cashmeriana is almost unknown in North American gardens, perhaps due in part to the long standing reliance on P. fruticosa and P. russelliana, both large yellow-flowered plants from the Mediterranean. For something quite different yet equally easy to grow, P. cashmeriana is an obvious choice. Technically classified as a subshrub, it performs as a woody-based herbaceous perennial at UBCBG. It hails from the drier, western Himalayas and Kashmir, as its species name suggests, so it is best suited to sunny and well-drained garden sites.

Phlomis cashmeriana has plenty of appeal as both a focal point in a dry border (it performs best here in the E.H. Lohbrunner Alpine Garden), and as a mingler and a softener among flashier drought-tolerant subjects. Like other Phlomis, it is a natural for the xeriscape garden, and is already being recommended by Denver Botanic Garden. Emerging suddenly into the spring sun with intensely silver and hairy new leaves, it quickly establishes its handsome architecture. By summer it puts on about 60cm of growth, although it can reach 80cm or more in favourable gardens. In this exuberant, grey-green mass are many sturdy, white-felted stems that bear, in the peak of summer, several verticillasters (whorled clusters) of exotic lilac-purple flowers.

This plant, with its subtle colour combinations of silver mixed with pink and purple, calms the senses and invites our touch, while standing uniquely apart from other dazzlingly bright summer flowers. After a few weeks, flowers finish blooming and stems may be cut back, leaving a superb foliage plant, untouched by insect or disease problems, for the rest of the growing season. Stems also may be left on, providing textural interest into the fall and winter seasons. This Asian perennial is both showy and not easily bothered by extremes of climate. Its appeal centers around its strong form, combined with a touch of the exotic.”

The account in the book continues on to include hardiness, cultivation and propagation information.

Interested to learn more about “The Jade Garden”? Read an interview with the authors! Or, visit the publisher's web page about the book.

“The Jade Garden - New and Notable Plants from Asia” is available locally in the Shop in the Garden and other fine bookstores. As UBC Botanical Garden doesn't have an online store, you can purchase online from Amazon.com, Amazon.ca or Amazon.co.uk .

Fourth in a series of five photographs featuring plants showcased in UBC Botanical Garden's newly-released book: “The Jade Garden - New and Notable Plants from Asia”.

Sikkim larch, as written by Douglas Justice in “The Jade Garden”:

“The general public variously tolerates deciduous conifers. In cold climates they are grown because of lack of available variety in plants generally, and in temperate gardens often for their venerable lineage, such as the primitive and exotic pair Metasequoia glyptostroboides (dawn redwood) and Taxodium distichum (bald cypress). The benefit of a deciduous conifer in the landscape should not be overlooked, particularly in a dull climate. As for any deciduous tree, it provides more light on the garden floor in winter. By far, the most common deciduous conifers in the Northern Hemisphere are the larches, but since they are, with few exceptions, a scruffy lot, they are generally a much-maligned group. Larix griffithii is an exception.

Individual needles of Sikkim larch are long, and among individuals they range from green to steel grey. The tree's habit is regular, narrow, and tall, with pendulous, golden brown branches somewhat reminiscent of Larix occidentalis (western larch), from the mountains of southern British Columbia and the northwestern United States. Like that species, the autumn colour of L. griffithii is pure, flaxen yellow. Sikkim larch cones are perhaps the largest of all Larix species (9 to 15cm long) and among its most interesting and ornamental features. They are purple-brown with reflexed scales and are held stiffly upright when ripe. The young, developing cones are extraordinarily large and are coloured either chartreuse or red-magenta. Both forms are exceedingly showy in the spring.

Sikkim larch is native to the high subalpine regions of the eastern Himalayas. Specimens at UBC Botanical Garden were grown from seed collected in Bhutan by Keith Rushforth. The closely related Larix griffithii var. speciosa ( syn. L. speciosa) is found in northwestern Yunnan and the southeastern Xizang Zizhang (Tibetan Himalayas). That variety differs primarily in the broader needles and shorter cones.”

Some other photographs of this plant have been posted to the garden's discussion forums.

Third in a series of five photographs featuring plants showcased in UBC Botanical Garden's newly-released book: “The Jade Garden - New and Notable Plants from Asia”.

Large-leaf dogwood, or Cornus macrophylla, as written by Douglas Justice in “The Jade Garden”:

“It is difficult to successfully introduce trees that appear diminished in some respect to more spectacular relatives. Among tree aficionados, for example, Cornus kousa (Japanese dogwood) and Cornus controversa (giant or table dogwood) are currently acknowledged as the most desirable dogwoods for general planting in Western gardens. Both are relatively problem free and exceptionally attractive trees: C. kousa for its long-lasting blooms and striking, starburst habit,among myriad other superb qualities, and C. controversa primarily for its stunning, frosted wedding cake looks. While it is nearly impossible to identify serious shortcomings for either tree, it must be admitted that neither is small after 20 or 30 years or easily accommodated on a typical residential lot. Large-leaf dogwood, however, is well suited to such a situation and one never tires of its subtle good looks.

Large-leaf dogwood forms a small, often low-branched or multistemmed tree, usually no more than 8 or 10m in height when grown in the open in gardens. The species is known to top 20m in the wild, but such plants would have been heavily shaded and very old. In cultivation, branching is much like that of Cornus controversa (table dogwood), with strongly upright stems and horizontal tiers of branches. Each branch terminates with a handful of curving, shortly ascending twigs with prominent pointed buds. The grey-brown bark is smooth and attractively mottled in youth, eventually becoming plate-like with age.

True to its name, the leaves of Cornus macrophylla are large (about 17cm long by 12cm wide), and handsome, with prominent veins and slightly wavy edges. They are often creased down the midrib, making the lighter coloured underside visible. Creamy white flowers are individually tiny, but borne in broad, flattened corymbs at the tips of the branches. Blooming in June or July, they are highly visible against the fully expanded leaves. Once flowering has finished, small (6mm) blue-black drupes form; cross-pollination is usually a prerequisite for fruit development.”

This is the second in a series of five photographs featuring plants showcased in UBC Botanical Garden's newly-released book: “The Jade Garden - New and Notable Plants from Asia”.

I'd like to mention a couple things before I go into the comments for today's plant. First, it'd almost be impossible for me to write what you are reading with the book excerpts, so I hope you don't get too spoiled reading them! Second, immediately after the series on “The Jade Garden”, Sunday's featured plant (if all goes well - I haven't taken the photograph yet) will be the second plant so far on Botany Photo of the Day that has only been seen by a few people outside of Asia in flower until this year. Quite a coup!

On to today's entry, with a photograph that was taken in early May. Paeonia rockii, as written by Peter Wharton in “The Jade Garden”:

“The genus Paeonia comes from the Greek name Paeon, the physician of the Gods and the discoverer of medicinal properties. This shrub has great popular distinction for its bold, distinctive foliage, vigorous form and exquisite flowers of grand proportions. The tree peonies in general and this species in particular have been especially esteemed by ancient and modern Chinese societies; they symbolize love, affection, and feminine beauty, as well as having a notable position in Chinese pharmacopoeias. This species is known as the zi ban mudan (the purple-blotched tree peonies) in China.

The specific epithet acknowledges Joseph Rock (1884-1962), the Austro-American explorer, geographer, plant hunter and linguist. The introduction of this plant to the West was fittingly romantic, with a figure no less passionate than Reginald Farrer first describing its charms as “the huge expanded goblets of Paeonia Moutan, refulgent as pure snow and fragrant as heavenly Roses” (Farrer, 1917). Farrer saw this plant in southern Gansu in 1914, but Rock introduced it into Western cultivation in 1926. His discovery of the seed plant in the Choni (Jone) Lamasery in southwest Gansu led to seed being sent to the Arnold Arboretum in Jamaica Plains, Massachusetts, with seedlings eventually being sent to growers in the United States and Europe.

Our plants appear to be the typical American form of Paeonia rockii originating from Reath's Nursery in Michigan. The distinct English form, originating from Highdown Garden in Kent is another seedling raised from the original Rock introduction.

This imposing shrub can grow into a huge sprawling specimen 2.4m tall by 3m across with a distinctive bronzing to the young leaves before they assume a delightful bluish cast. The foliage contrasts superbly with up to 50 blooms on mature shrubs. The leaves are 2- or 3-pinnate with 17 to 33 leaflets. The leaflets are variable, ranging from lanceolate or ovate-lanceolate, entire leaves to mostly ovate-orbicular and lobed leaves (2-11cm long by 1.5-4.5cm wide). The leaf is glabrous on the upper surface and slightly tomentose on the undersides, sometimes locally dense along the leaf veins.

The solitary, captivating flowers (13-19cm) are borne terminally with 3 leaf-like bracts and sepals. The flower consists of 10 white petals, showing conspicuous dark purple blotches at the base. The filaments and flower disc are pale yellow. Flowering usually occurs in May. The fruits are delightfully reminiscent of a jester's hat, consisting of five oblong, densely yellow, tomentose, spindle-like follicles that split to reveal two rows of jet-black seeds.

The Qin Ling is the core area for this king of flowers -- from the Loess Plateau area of Shaanxi-Gansu border, to the northern slopes of the sacred Taibai Shan, and finally to the diverse forests of Hubei's famous Shennongjia Forest District. This species grows in a wide range of ecological conditions, including sunlit openings in deciduous broad-leaf forests, margins of Pinus armandii forest and dense scrub, shady north-facing slopes and limestone crags (Wang, 1961). Forms with red and pink petals occur throughout the shrub's native range, so there are rich opportunities for further flower selection.”

This is the first in a series of five photographs featuring plants showcased in UBC Botanical Garden's newly-released book: “The Jade Garden - New and Notable Plants from Asia”.

On Alangium platanifolium, Peter Wharton writes:

“This outstanding understory shrub can become a small, wide-spreading tree of considerable beauty at maturity. At UBCBG, we received this species from Hilliers Nursery, United Kingdom, under the variety macrophyllum (Sieb. & Zucc.) Wangerin. The plant is better placed into Alangium platanifolium as part of the natural variation within this species. The profile of this large shrub is initially vase-shaped in youth and gradually broadens with age to form a flat oval top up to 4 or 5m high by 5m across. It can have a short bole before dividing into several horizontal laterals that may display an undulating muscular appearance. The main branches then divide into dense clusters of twigs at the extremities. These characteristics contribute to a winter silhouette that is both distinctive and ornamental. The shrub adapts well to semishaded forest edges or as a shade-tolerant understory plant in the wild or in cultivation.

The large (16-21cm long by 13-15cm wide), broadly ovate yellowish green leaves resemble those of the London plane (Platanus × hispanica). They are variable in shape but are generally tri-lobed, forward pointing toward the apex, with cordate bases. Often the acuminate lobes are twisted, adding to the distinctive foliar texture of this plant. In the spring the leaves unfold in the manner of hands in prayer and then turn a glorious yellow in the autumn. The flowers are white and appear in late June along the undersides of main horizontal branches often hidden by the verdant foliage. They are borne in 1- to 4-flowered cymes from the leaf axils of the previous year's growth. Each flower consists of 6 petals narrowly strap-shaped and slightly twisted, forming a corolla tube at the base. Each petal reflexes to the midpoint to expose the bright yellow stamens and style. The pendulous, fleshy, egg-shaped fruit, coloured porcelain blue to dark violet, provides a stunning contrast to the golden fall leaf display.

The larger leaf variants occur widely throughout the species' native distribution, growing as an understory shrub in Japan with a host of ornamental forest dwellers such as Cornus kousa, Lindera obtusiloba and Helwingia japonica. The huge natural range of this plant could provide horticulture with a broad spectrum of ornamental variation and environmental tolerance.”

This plant is commonly known as horned rampion - no, I do not make these names up! If you were to visit the Dolomites at high elevations, you might see it tucked close to the ground - it's only 10 cm high or so.

It is a member of the Campanulaceae, or bellflower family. Plants in this family can be found in nearly every part of the world, with the exception of tropical Africa, Antarctica and northern Greenland (source).

Most of the Campanulaceae, including Phyteuma, are herbs, but there are woody plants. Unfortunately, many woody Campanulaceae are threatened or endangered. A sad statistic is that 25% of the woody Campanulaceae once native to Hawaii are now extinct (Mabberley, The Plant-Book 2nd ed., 1997).

Tomorrow, I'll begin a five-part special series on Botany Photo of the Day.

Today's photograph was contributed by a co-worker, Eric La Fountaine. If you participate on UBC Botanical Garden's discussion forums, you'll know Eric as a frequent contributor and helpful administrator.

Eric visited Australia last year, and snapped this photograph of bird's nest banksia (also known as woollybear banksia (or not, see comments)). Banksia baxteri grows natively in tall shrublands with sandy soils along the south coast of Western Australia. This region is one of the world's “biodiversity hotspots”.

We've successfully (if temporarily) grown species of Banksia at UBC, and to our knowledge, the flowers we saw on Banksia marginata in 2002 and 2003 were the first occasions that a Banksia has flowered in Canada. Sadly for us, the plants were tender to the harsh winter of early 2004 and have since died. That hasn't stopped Brent Hine from acquiring other banksias which he believes will be hardier - all in the spirit of science and horticultural experimentation.

On occasion, I like to share more than one photograph about a plant - this is one of those days. The previous occasion was Babiana ringens, if you're new to the site.

Gum plant, or as it is known in its native Patagonia, Bóton de Oro (gold button? - someone please correct me if I'm wrong. Thanks Dana for the correct translation - it means “golden blossom”) contains high levels of resin in its leaves (hence the English common name), so much so that it has been researched for potential use in industrial applications. The resin contains a class of hydrocarbons known as terpenes.

I think it's fair to say that the general consensus is terpenes are quite foul-smelling (Nope, I'm wrong! See floater's comments below this post. Thanks for the correction!). If you visit UBC's Alpine Garden or see this plant elsewhere, touch the white glossy surface on the flower heads (note of caution: I'd avoid doing so if you are allergic to rubber or latex). It has a gummy texture, although from its appearance you'd think it would be slimy. If you smell your fingertips after, I think you'll find yourself mildly disgusted. As an aside, I wish that the language of smells was easier to evoke, so I could be more descriptive.

Spikes, racemes, corymbs -- these are a few of the many types of inflorescences. Of all the different possibilities for the arrangement of flowers, my favourite is this: the helicoid cyme, an inflorescence often seen in members of the borage family.

This common bugloss grows in UBC's Physic Garden, which is thematically centred on ancient European medicinal plants (hint: whenever you see a specific epithet on a plant that says “officinalis” or “officinale”, you can be assured that it was used in herbal medicines hundreds of years ago by Europeans).

Update (June 17, 2005 9:30 AM PST): Dr. Scott Russell at the University of Oklahoma, author of the daily (and highly recommended) Scott's Botanical Links, sent me a note with the news that Botany Photo of the Day was highlighted by the Internet Scout Project in this week's “The Scout Report”. A reader of The Scout Report (which you can subscribe to via email), Tim, also sent along the news. Thanks Scott and Tim!

Bang! I was inspired to photograph this alpine yucca after Judy Newton, UBC Botanical Garden's soon-to-be-retiring education coordinator, featured it in a lecture on Tuesday. Despite being native to New Mexico and Arizona, this plant does quite well in our well-drained alpine garden. Not the typical sort of plant one expects to see in Vancouver!

Yuccas have only one group of pollinators: yucca moths. The two sets of organisms have a special kind of relationship called obligate mutualism, in which both organisms benefit from each other, and indeed rely on each other - if one were to go extinct, the other would follow.

The yucca moths are highly specific pollinators for the yucca (not just any insect will do!), so they are necessary if seed production is going to occur. While pollinating the flowers, the yucca moths also lay their eggs. The hatched moth larvae are picky eaters, only feasting on developing yucca seeds (and leaving quite a few behind to germinate into new yucca plants). In short, no yucca seeds, no yucca moths. No yucca moths, no yucca seeds.

If you're interested in further reading on the topic, I'd suggest reading Tegeticula, the yucca moths from The Tree of Life Project, as well as the web page of Dr. Olle Pellmyr from the University of Idaho. Dr. Pellmyr has published a paper asserting that there is evidence to believe that the yucca - yucca moth obligate mutualism relationship has existed for forty million years.

In other news, the latest edition of Tangled Bank is out: Tangled Bank #30 via The Geomblog. Tangled Bank is a “gathering of science weblogs” that promotes the best science weblog writing on a bi-weekly basis (and now switching to weekly). The Botany Photo of the Day submission for this edition was the entry on Raoulia australis, since I figured a shape-heavy photograph would have at least a little relevance to a weblog devoted to computational geometry.

Lastly, I hope everyone reading this is alright with the moderation of comments. For yesterday's photograph, about 25% of the comments were spam, but none of them slipped through because I deleted them before they were made public. I'm not going to moderate out criticism and pointed questions (both of which were received yesterday), but I am going to try and keep out anything inappropriate.

Featured by Martha Stewart in 1999 as one of her “Plants of the Month”, Mandarin honeysuckle is a UBC Botanical Garden Plant Introduction. While at UBC, Dr. Wilf Nicholls crossed Lonicera tragophylla and Lonicera × brownii 'Dropmore Scarlet', and 'Mandarin' was the result. Dr. Nicholls is now the Director of the Memorial University of Newfoundland Botanical Garden (and a kinder man you cannot meet).

If you are interested in horticultural or gardening information about 'Mandarin', a factsheet for nurseries was made by UBC Botanical Garden. It's available online: Lonicera 'Mandarin'.

I hinted yesterday that today's plant would be in the same family as Linnaea borealis - well, things have changed from how I learned these plants! While Lonicera remain in the Caprifoliaceae, researchers have determined through studies in the late 1990s and early 2000s that Linnaea is too distantly related to the main members of the Caprifoliaceae, so it ought not be in the same family as the honeysuckles. Instead, twinflower is part of a family that is named after it, the Linnaeaceae.

Commonly (and aptly) named twinflower, this is one of my favourite plants. For me, it provokes memories of when I started to learn about botany and plant names, as it was one of my early “discoveries” in the woods near my home.

As I mentioned in a previous entry, the epithet borealis refers to “of the north”, and fittingly, this is a plant of the boreal forests of the northern hemisphere. The genus name, Linnaea, refers to the scientist Carolus Linnaeus, the “Father of Modern Taxonomy”.

Twinflower is a small shrublet, reaching perhaps 15cm (6in.) in height. The stems creep along the ground of coniferous forests, creating small mats of evergreen leaves awash in pink when in flower. I've only noticed it in soils with seeping near-surface water, but it apparently can also grow in sites that are quite dry.

A couple words I'd use to describe this plant are dainty and subtle. Tomorrow's photograph will feature a plant in the same family that is anything but dainty or subtle.

Update (June 15, 2005 12:02 AM PST): While reviewing the relationships between the various members of the honeysuckle family (to which I thought Linnaea still belonged), I see that Linnaea is now a member of a family named after it: the Linnaeaceae. So, the picture for June 15 still features a relative, but a more distant one perhaps than originally suggested.

Believe it or not, this Chilean plant is in the same family as the previously featured Iochroma australe, and therefore a relative of tomatoes and potatoes. As I mentioned a few days ago, we are surrounded by amazing diversity; botanical gardens are great places to appreciate that.

There seems to be much confusion as to whether this lilac-flowered form is actually a cultivated selection (in which case the name would correctly be Fabiana imbricata 'Violacea' - this is how it is often sold), or whether it has been scientifically published and described as being a naturally-occurring form (hence forma violacea). We've opted to use the latter at UBC, despite not being able to verify that the plant was ever properly published under that name, because a few well-respected information sources like the RHS Plantfinder suggest it.

It doesn't have the longest plant name in UBC Botanical Garden, but it comes close. As you can guess from its cultivar name, Merrist Wood Cream rockrose is the yellowish flower with red markings. The purple flowers are a type of Spanish lavender, Lavandula stoechas subsp. pedunculata, I think.

Why the × in front of Halimiocistus? It's there to denote that this is a hybrid between two genera (an intergeneric hybrid), Halimium and Cistus. Typically, hybrids are between two species of the same genus (an interspecific hybrid), and in those cases, the × symbol to denote a hybrid is placed between the generic name and the epithet, like so: Rosa × odorata.

The Cistus and Halimium web site goes into some detail about this rockrose, as does Paghat.

In Botany Photo of the Day news, I was kindly emailed by Sharyl to inform me that Botany Photo of the Day was the Yahoo! Pick of the Day for June 10, solving the mystery about all the web site traffic from Yahoo!. Fred (thanks, Fred) also emailed me to let me know that Botany Photo of the Day was added to the front page of Refdesk in the “Daily Pictures” section, nestled among daily photos from organizations that are anywhere from five to a thousand times larger than UBC Botanical Garden. Humble thanks to both of those sites, and I hope we at the garden can continue to live up to those standards.

I know this is getting long, but I do want to reiterate for new readers that Botany Photo of the Day owes much credit to two people: Tim Bray, who seeded the idea in a technology lunch we had at the garden; and Dr. Quentin Cronk, the garden's director, who has fostered a garden that allows seeds of ideas to grow.

Columbia lily is native to the Pacific Northwest of North America. Fittingly, this plant is located in UBC's Native Garden, alongside the main path. If you are able to step in to the garden sometime in the next couple of weeks, be sure to stop by this plant and drink in the fragrance (the lilies are also starting up in the Asian Garden).

Dr. Richard Hebda, Curator of Botany at the Royal BC Museum, has written a Natural History Research Paper on Lilium columbianum. Dr. Hebda writes that the bulb of the plant apparently has a peppery taste, and was used by First Nations for flavouring, much like the modern use of garlic.

Photo note: I didn't use the “flower photographer's trick” of spraying with a mist bottle to produce water droplets; they were already there from afternoon showers.

As a final note, if you are one of the hundreds of people reading Botany Photo of the Day because it was featured in a Yahoo! Group email sent on Friday, please drop me a line to let me know the name and purpose of the group, as well as the name and email of the mailing list admin so I can send her or him a thank you note.

Before I get into the details of this New Zealand native, a word about australis / australe since the word appeared yesterday as well. Contrary to what I've read on some nursery sites, this is not Latin for “of Australia”, but rather for “south”, as in the southern hemisphere. Aurora borealis - northern lights, Aurora australis - southern lights: that's how I remember it.

To put this plant in context, you first need a few more facts than what this image can provide. Start by checking out this perspective image of Raoulia australis, which will give you an idea of just how small this vascular plant really is when you compare it to the nearby gravel. Second, you need to know that this plant is in the family Asteraceae. Third, you also need to know that the Asteraceae also includes sunflowers, which are perhaps two thousand times as high as this little mat-forming plant. For comparison's sake, that's roughly the difference between my height and the tallest building in the world doubled.

If you're like me, you can only marvel, simply marvel, at the amazing diversity of forms and structures that have evolved.

So what are the ecological advantages of being low and small? In this case, I suspect it has to do with prevention of water loss. Raoulia australis, or scabweed, grows in dry, rocky areas of the South Island of New Zealand, ranging from high coastal elevations to alpine. Mat growth forms are ideal for water conservation: a low surface area prevents wind dessication; water requirements for nutrient transportation are low due to compact growth; and, in this case, water is “stored” in the peaty decaying layer of older leaves below the fresh growth instead of draining away into the rock or sand. In the perspective image, you can see a black fringe surrounding the mat, particularly the bottom left - these are exposed decaying leaves. It seems to me that this might be an indication that the plant is not doing well, and is contracting instead of expanding.

I only took this photograph at the prompting of Joe Keller from the Alpine Garden Club of BC, who said it would make a great “Stumper” for UBC's online forums. The calibre of the people on the forums is just too good though, and it was answered by the second person to reply. Stumpers is a new forum where the most active forum members can challenge everyone's plant knowledge by asking a plant-related question with only a few clues. Yes, we're plant geeks, but it's fun, and everyone can learn something.

If you've read this far, you deserve a reward. Here's a near full-size image of Raoulia australis for you to use (subject to the Creative Commons License, of course).

Update (June 10, 2005 9:45 AM PST): Two small bits of book-keeping. First of all, I was displeased to note that a trackback ping from an unsavoury site was received only a few hours after posting this, so I've taken off trackbacks for the time being. Second, thanks to Neil for pointing out to me that relative links don't work in Bloglines (and I assume some of the other feed services), so I've made the necessary changes.

Another beauty from South America (the woods of Argentina and Bolivia), there are a few plants of “mini angel's trumpet” in the Alpine Garden. Conventional wisdom was that this plant would only be hardy to -5°C, but it survived the winter two years ago which dipped to -13°C. Admittedly, much of the above-ground part of the plant died, but it seems to have recuperated.

Iochroma is a member of the plant family Solanaceae, one of my favourites. I can't help but admire a group of plants that includes potatoes, tomatoes, tobacco, hot peppers and deadly nightshade (Atropa belladonna).

A few notes for locals. First, tomorrow is the last day for commenting on the proposed Vancouver-UBC Transit Plan through the online workbook. If you haven't already, please consider adding your input after reading that page.

Secondly, the Vancouver Garden Show starts today and runs until Sunday, (warning if you visit the web site: it doesn't render correctly in Firefox and there are a number of typos, but you can still get the relevant info from the site). Despite the web site, the positive buzz I've heard from people setting up exhibits is that the garden show is returning to its roots, meaning a renewed emphasis on plants and gardening. Attending is a great way to support VanDusen Botanical Garden. I'll be checking it out myself. Also, if you want to step in and say “Hello”, I'll be volunteering at the UBC Botanical Garden booth on Sunday at 2pm.

Quite a few gardens and nurseries cite this commonly as the Chinese sweetshrub, but I prefer the name used by Dr. Gerald Straley, Chinese wax shrub. The tepals of the flower are rather thick and, as you guessed from my preferred common name, waxy in texture.

You can see an end-on perspective of the fruit of Sinocalycanthus chinensis posted on the garden's discussion forums.

Despite there being roughly eight thousand different taxa of plants at UBC Botanical Garden, only a precious few are remarked upon year after year in the lunchroom. The first magnolia blossom in spring. Melliodendron xylocarpum. And this, Embothrium coccineum, from the Alpine Garden.

If you don't know this plant, it will perhaps not surprise you to learn that it is commonly known as Chilean fire bush. The colour, I think, is anything but common, though. It's difficult as heck to photograph well - the reds are so strong that they are often blown out.

This is also one of those plants that gets me excited about the future at UBC every time I think of it (Embothrium creates a vivid enough memory that one doesn't have to see it to recall the experience). UBC Botanical Garden was never “completed”. Any gardener will agree that a garden is never finished, but when I say never completed, I mean that the original design of the gardens (at their modern site) from the early 1970s ran out of funding and areas were left either fallow or planted without an overall landscape scheme in mind.

When the time is right, these sorts of areas represent opportunities for a garden. The time is right. One of the planned new gardens is an Araucaria Grove, featuring the flora of South America: an en masse planting of monkey puzzle trees, punctuated by southern beeches (Nothofagus spp.), exotic South American bamboos and, of course, a number of Chilean fire bushes. It's going to be bold and beautiful.

If you're inclined and able, there are a number of ways you can support the garden and help make gardens like the Araucaria Grove a reality, some of them only requiring a moment or two of your time. Every little bit helps.

Yes, this is a repeat entry; a flower from the same group of plants was the Photo of the Day on May 28, 2005. Still, I think it's worthwhile to compare the two photographs, as the flowers are in different stages of maturity.

The May 28 photograph illustrates bluer petals, developing anthers (the orange oval-shaped structures) without any evidence of pollen, and a stigma (the fuzzy central surface) and style (the slender structure below the stigma) coloured an unexposed-to-sunlight green.

Contrast that flower with this one, perhaps a day or two further along in its development. The petals have faded in colour, although I suspect some of the difference in blueness is due to the ambient light conditions. As well, masses of orange-red pollen have erupted from the mature anthers, while the female stigma and style appear to have accumulated sunshine-transforming chlorophyll and are consequently greener in colour.

Within another day or two, the faded petals will fall off, along with the spent stamens (the anthers and their supporting filaments). The pistil, which includes the stigma, style and blimp-shaped ovary bearing the fertilized ovules, will change from hanging downward at the angle shown in the photographs to being borne upright.

One of approximately one hundred different kinds of maples grown in UBC Botanical Garden, golden fullmoon maple stands out from most others at this time of year, if colour is the criterion. About two minutes after I took this photograph, the evening sun hit this plant at an angle that made it glow (“photographer's light”). By the time I'd set up the camera again and waited for a suitable gap in the light breeze occurring, the light had changed enough that the bottom line of leaves was in shadow. Needless to say, I was slightly disappointed.

Thanks to the convergence of powerful computers, molecular phylogenetics and statistical techniques, a tsunami of change is being experienced in the field of plant systematics. The understanding of the evolutionary relationships between different plants continues to advance, and as that occurs, the conventions scientists use to communicate about the plants must change. Since the names of plant taxa (a grouping of related plants, e.g., similar species or similar families) are one of those conventions, used to symbolically represent relationships between different groups, advancing knowledge often means scientific name changes.

This plant is an excellent example of name changes during relatively recent times. Fifteen years ago, I would have likely learned this beautiful plant as Smilacina oleracea in the plant family Liliaceae. To this day, if you would like to purchase this plant from a nursery, that's the name you'll need to use in your communications. Perhaps five years ago, I would have learned the plant as Smilacina oleracea in the family Convallariaceae, or maybe as Maianthemum oleraceum in the same family. Within the past two years, thanks to intensive study of many of the plants in the traditional Liliaceae, the current understanding of this species is that it is a member of the family Ruscaceae, and it is properly named Maianthemum oleraceum. Will it change again? Perhaps.

I'm comfortable with the notion that the names of plant species can change. I think that it not only communicates a rich scientific history, but that it also represents the dynamism of science: the to-ing and fro-ing of ideas and arguments on how to best reflect reality and truth. Yes, it's messy. It's certainly uncertain. But, life is like that.

An intimate look at the flower of Siebold's magnolia, also known as Oyama magnolia. Magnolia flowers are thought to closely resemble those of the first flowering plants; a spiral arrangement of floral parts, floral parts that are unfused, and stamens that are not differentiated into anthers and filaments are some of the similarities between magnolia flowers and ancient flowers from the fossil record.

Unlike Arthur Evans and Charles Bellamy, I've an inordinate fondness for pendulous flowers (though beetles are cool!). Flowers that hang down, though, can be the most challenging to photograph, if one's goal is to illustrate some of the floral parts. Magnolia sieboldii isn't so bad - at least some of the flowers hang at eye level or below, and the plant is dense enough that you can photograph into the tree without the sky blowing out.

Styrax japonicus, on the other hand, is difficult. Every year I try and photograph it, every year I'm only mildly pleased at best with the results. The good thing about photography at a botanical garden as opposed to the travelling to photograph is that there's always next year...

As an aside, Botany Photo of the Day and the UBC Botanical Garden Weblog were featured on MetaFilter yesterday via Steven (aka plep). MetaFilter is one of the premier community weblogs in the world, so that was a welcome surprise.

Photographed in the Alpine Garden during the early morning. Despite the specific epithet “peruviana”, this plant is actually native to the western Mediterranean. The common names are frustratingly wrong: Cuban lily. Peruvian lily. Caribbean lily. Star of Peru. It does grow “wild” in those places, but that's because it has been introduced and naturalized (there and elsewhere!). For the interesting history of this plant, I recommend visiting Scilla peruviana on the Mediterranean Gardens Society site

One of the reasons for greater plant diversity in the deciduous hardwood forests of eastern North America compared to the coniferous forests of the Pacific Northwest is light penetration to the forest floor. If you've hiked some of the old growth or second growth coniferous forests in British Columbia, you'll know that there can be very few plants growing beneath the trees throughout the year, perhaps only the occasional saprophytic orchid or straggly huckleberry.

This photograph, taken in the deciduous forest of the Old Baldy Conservation Area along the Niagara Escarpment in Ontario, illustrates the opposite. In early spring, before the trees have fully leafed out, the first wave of perennials grow and flower, such as these large-flowered trilliums (more on trilliums). Later in the year, summer sunlight dapples the forest floor, and another wave of flowers bloom. Finally, as the tree leaves colour and begin to fall, asters and goldenrods flower to complete the annual parade of herbaceous colour.

Sam Roberts, also the photographer of Conopholis americana from last week, contributed this photograph. I've set up an area in the garden's discussion forums for Botany Photo of the Day Reader Submissions, if you are a participant on the forums. If you would like to contribute using Flickr instead, I'm still in the process of setting that up (thank you and apologies to Jennifer, who kindly emailed me with an offer of help last week - I'm sorry I haven't replied yet, but I'll be in touch soon!).

Update (June 1, 2005 2:40 AM PST): The latest edition of the Tangled Bank is out, Tangled Bank #29, and it features the Botany Photo of the Day entry on Kadsura interior. For those of you who aren't familiar with Tangled Bank, it is a semi-weekly showcase of science-based writing in weblogs, hosted by a different weblog every edition. It's a great way to discover other weblogs, and well worth a visit.