Botany

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The Sundews

Earlier this year, I wrote about northern pitcher plants and how they are helping us to better understand food webs. At that time I promised future posts about carnivorous plants, so I have decided to write about sundews, the only carnivorous plant that I currently have in my collection.

Sundews are members of the genus Drosera and are in the family Droseraceae (the same family as the Venus flytrap). With as many as 194 species, Drosera is one of the largest and most diverse genera of carnivorous plants. Sundews can be found in a wide variety of climates and on nearly every continent, from subarctic Alaska to tropical Brazil. They can be as small as a penny or as big as a small shrub. Their leaves form rosettes and come in numerous shapes and sizes, including circular, wedge-shaped, oval,  forked, fern-like, and grass-like. Drosera flowers are also quite diverse, but typically they are flat, five-petaled, white or pink, and appear in clusters at the top of a tall stalk.

As described so far, you may be thinking that sundews sound quite simple and innocent, but this is certainly not the case. Covering the surfaces of Drosera leaves are dozens of hair-like filaments. At the end of each filament (or tentacle) is a gland, which produces a small drop of clear and very sticky dew. Attracted to the glistening dew and mistaking it for plant nectar, insects fly into it and find themselves instantly stuck. Struggling to get away, an insect may tear off body parts as it flails about, only to fall into other nearby dew droplets, worsening its ensnarement and ensuring its fate.

In his book, The Savage Garden, Peter D’Amato describes it this way:

“Sundews are innocent-looking and pretty, their delicate leaves sparkling with the promise of sweet nectar, but the foolish insect curious enough to give a sundew the slightest touch will suddenly find itself caught in a living nightmare. Doomed to a horrible death, the insect may struggle for a blessed few minutes or suffer for untold hours as it tries to break free of ensnaring, suffocating glue, grasping tentacles, and burning acids and enzymes; meanwhile, its precious bodily fluids are being slowly sucked dry.”

As the sticky dew attracts and then traps the insects, and the tentacles that support the dew help to further ensnare them, imminent death comes in a variety of ways. The most common for small insects is suffocation, as the glue almost immediately covers up the breathing holes on their abdomens. Larger insects that manage to avoid bodily contact with the glue will instead dangle from the plant and die of starvation or exhaustion. Those that break free, losing an appendage or appendages in the process, usually don’t last long after that and are often trapped and killed by spiders who build their webs around sundews in order to take advantage of such occasions. The leaves of some sundews curl up around their prey, not necessarily to further ensnare them, but to surround them with the largest possible number of glands which will help quicken the consumption and digestion process. By now you can see that as innocent and delicate as they may appear, sundews are in fact about as brutal and unforgiving as they come.

If you’d like to learn more about sundews and other carnivorous plants, including information on how to grow them, I highly recommend D’Amato’s book (The Savage Garden). It’s a fascinating and informative read, and the reality of the natural world described therein will astound you.

Drosera chrysolepis

Drosera chrysolepis, photo credit: wikimedia commons

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Book Review: What a Plant Knows

What a Plant Knows: A Field Guide to the Senses
by Daniel Chamovitz

Humans commonly anthropomorphize non-humans. It just seems easier, for example, to say that a plant “likes” a particular type of soil, even though we know that a plant doesn’t “like” anything because a plant does not experience emotion. What we really mean to say is that a plant is adapted to and therefore performs best in a particular type of soil. However, knowing this, is it plausible at all to say that a plant can see, smell, feel, hear, sense its location, or remember things? Daniel Chamovitz argues that it is, and he has plenty of credible research to support his thesis.

In short, plants have senses very similar to human senses and are far more aware than we might initially think. To be clear though, Chamovitz states early on in his book that his “use of the word ‘know’ is unorthodox. Plants don’t have a central nervous system; a plant doesn’t have a brain that coordinates information for its entire body.” Nor do they have noses or ears or eyes. Instead, when Chamovitz uses words like “see,” “smell,” “hear,” and “know,” he is referring to various chemical reactions and physiological phenomena that occur in plants which produce reactions that are analogous to human senses. When a willow tree is damaged by tent caterpillars, a neighboring willow tree becomes unpalatable to the caterpillars and thereby resists a similar fate. Why? Because the damaged willow tree releases a gaseous substance that nearby willow trees can sense (or “smell”). This is a signal for them to protect themselves by building up toxic chemicals in their leaves.

Another example offered by Chamovitz involves the ability of some plants to remember winter. Cherry blossoms appear in the spring because winter has passed. A certain period of cold temperatures is what induces this response. If the trees bloom too early, the blossoms will freeze. If they bloom too late, the fruits would not have time to mature before cold temperatures returned. The seeds of winter wheat are planted in the fall and germinate in the spring. They also require a period of cold temperatures in order to germinate. This process is called vernalization, and it involves a specific gene in the plant called flowering locus C (FLC). After vernalization, this gene is turned off which signals the plant to flower (provided that other environmental conditions, such as light and soil temperature, are conducive to flowering, etc.).

A common myth is that plants grow better when people say nice things to them or play relaxing music for them. Chamovitz thoroughly debunks this myth and concludes that no evidence has been found for plants being able to hear. Plants do however possess many of the same genes that humans possess, including several genes that when not functioning properly can result in deafness in humans. These genes encode proteins called myosins. Myosins in humans help form the hair cells in our inner ears which are essential for hearing. Myosins in plants help form root hairs which are essential for absorbing water from the soil. While the functions of these proteins are quite different in humans and plants, mutations in the genes code for these proteins can have drastic results for both.

All this talk about chemistry, genetics, and physiology may sound a bit intimidating…but don’t worry. While Chamovitz endeavours to tell the science accurately and in detail, he does so in a very approachable manner, making this an easy read for anyone with a basic understanding of biology. Even if you don’t fully comprehend the technical stuff, the anecdotes are well told and captivating, and after you finish reading this, you are certain to have a greater appreciation for plants and all of the fascinating things that they can do. While we should be careful to be too anthropocentric, this book makes it clear that plants are a lot like us…or should I say, we are a lot like plants? Either way, we have many things in common (including much of our DNA), which is all the more reason to appreciate plants for the amazing organisms that they are.

This is a video (recommended by Chamovitz) of a dodder plant sensing the location of a tomato plant. Dodder is unable to photosynthesize, so after attaching itself to the tomato plant it will feed on the nutrients that the tomato plant produces.

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– Excerpt from What a Plant Knows

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American Penstemon Society Field Trip

This past weekend, the American Penstemon Society held their annual meeting in Boise, Idaho. I was fortunate enough to attend their meeting and join them on one of their field trips. We visited Mores Mountain in the Boise National Forest, which is a short drive north of Boise. The hike was so much fun! There were tons of great plants to see, and the views from the top were incredible. My favorite sights were all the magical rock gardens that were scattered along the trail which were loaded with a diverse number of small plants eking out an existence on lichen splattered outcrops. If you ever find yourself in the Boise area, this is a spot that I am certain you don’t want to miss.

rock garden

Rock Garden on Mores Mountain, Boise National Forest

lewisia sacajaweana

Lewisia sacajaweana, Sacajawea bitter root

ceanothus velutinus

Ceanothus velutinus, snowbrush ceanothus

penstemon humilis

Penstemon humilis, low penstemon

penstemon fruticosus

Penstemon fruticosus, shrubby penstemon

calochortus macrocarpus

Calochortus macrocarpus, sagebrush mariposa lily

calochortus eurycarpus

Calochortus eurycarpus, white mariposa lily

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Wildflower Walk: June 2013

Camping recently with family and friends affored me the opportunity to explore some early summer wildflowers near Grimes Creek in the Boise National Forest. Despite the noise and dust presented by regular ATV and dirt bike traffic, I had a very enjoyable weekend in the woods. What follows are some of the wildflowers I saw while exploring the area.

erigeron pumilus

Erigeron pumilus, shaggy fleabane

geranium viscosissimum

Geranium viscosissimum, sticky purple geranium

ipomopsis aggregata

Ipomopsis aggregata, scarlet gilia

penstemon deustus

Penstemon deustus, hotrock or scabland penstemon

penstemon payettensis

Penstemon payettensis, Payette penstemon

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Pac Choy in Bloom

Earlier this year I planted some Shanghai Green Pac Choy (Brassica rapa var. chinensis) seeds in a container outside. I harvested and ate them as they became ready, and they were delicious. However, I was a little slow at harvesting one of them and it began to bolt. I decided to go ahead and let it bloom so that I could admire its flowers and possibly collect its seeds. Unfortunately, seed collecting may be out of the question because, even though the flowers on this species are perfect (having both male and female parts), the plants may be self-sterile, meaning I would need a second plant for cross-pollination in order to get viable seed. We’ll see.

Pac Choy is in the Mustard Family (Brassicaceae), which is a relatively easy family to identify. The flowers have four petals and six stamens, and the four petals form a cross, which explains the old family name, Cruciferae. The inflorescence is a raceme, and the fruits are capsules called siliques or silicles. The walls of the capsules dry and break away to reveal the seeds of the fruit housed in a translucent sheet. There are several species in the mustard family that are common vegetable crops, including radish (Raphnus), turnip (Brassica spp.), horseradish (Armoracia), and cabbage, cauliflower, kohlrabi, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and kale, which are all cultivars of the same species, Brassica oleracea. There are also several annual and biennial weeds in the mustard family, as well as a very common ornamental flower, sweet alyssum (Lobularia maritima).

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Idaho State Flower

In 1931, the Idaho state legislature officially designated Philadelphus lewisii as the state flower of Idaho, several decades after it was originally selected by a committee of Boise women. Affectionately referred to as “syringa” by Idahoans, P. lewisii occurs from British Columbia down into northern California and across into Idaho and Montana. Its native habitats are the bases of rocky slopes, rocky crevices, and stream banks. It was among many plants collected during the Lewis and Clark Expedition (1804-1806) by Meriwether Lewis. Lewis collected two specimens while in north Idaho and eastern Montana – the first near the Clearwater River and the second near the Bitterroot River. The species was later described by Frederick Pursh and named after Meriwether Lewis. Another widely accepted common name for this species is Lewis’ mock orange.

P. lewisii is a deciduous shrub that reaches 6 to 10 feet tall. It has opposite leaves and white, four-petaled flowers that appear in clusters of 3 to 11 on lateral branches. Young branches have reddish-brown bark that eventually peels off to reveal gray bark as the branches age. Many flowers in the genus Philadelphus emit a scent similar to the blossoms of citrus plants and have a general appearance akin to orange blossoms, giving them their common name “mock orange.” The attractive flowers and their sweet aroma are reasons why many people look forward to these shrubs blooming each year. Additionally, Idahoans can be certain that when their beloved state flower is in bloom, summer is imminent.

Philadelphus lewisii

The leaves and bark of P. lewsii contain saponins and can be used to make soap when they are crushed and mixed with water. This quality also makes the plant fire-resistant. The branches and hollow stems of P. lewisii were used by Native Americans to make a variety of useful items including snowshoes, bows, arrows, and pipes. The common name “syringa” was derived from the greek word “syrinx” meaning “tube.” This helps explain why lilacs, an unrelated group of plants that also has hollow stems, was given the latin name Syringa.

Philadelphus is a genus in the Hydrangea family (Hydrangeaceae) that consists of at least 60 species found throughout North America into Central America and in various parts of Eurasia. All are shrubs – some growing to 20 feet tall while others only reach 3 feet at maturity. Most have deciduous leaves, but a few are evergreens. Many cultivars of Philadelphus have been developed by the horticulture industry and are commercially available. Cultivars are often selected for their compact growth habit, abundant and sometimes double flowers, and their strong, sweet aroma.

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Check out this article in Pacific Horticulture to learn more about the genus Philadelphus.

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Mountain Kittentails

Spring has sprung, which is evidenced by warming temperatures, lengthening daylight, and plants turning green and producing flowers. For those of us living at low elevations, signs of spring have been around for a while. Our landscapes are green again and gardens are coming to life. However, up in the mountains (and at higher latitudes), spring takes a bit longer to manifest itself. Snow is still the dominant groundcover, and freezing temperatures remain the norm. Yet even in these harsh conditions there are signs of spring. The flowers of the perennial forb, mountain kittentails (Synthyris missurica), are one of those signs.

Mountain kittentails are one of the earliest plants to flower in the mountains, often flowering while there is still snow on the ground. For this reason, their flowers are not commonly seen in the wild. Their range extends from Washington and Oregon down into northern California and across into Idaho and Montana. They occur in rocky, shady areas at mid to high elevations. Mountain kittentails are low growing with rounded, toothed leaves. Their flowers appear in tight clusters on upright stalks and are blue to purple in color. They are a member of the figwort family (Scrophulariaceae), sharing that distinction with a popular group of flowering plants that is common in the west, the penstemons. Mountain kittentails were first collected during the Lewis and Clark expedition in 1806. The expedition discovered this plant as they passed through the mountains of northern Idaho.

Mountain kittentails are not a commonly cultivated plant, but the Idaho Botanical Garden in Boise, Idaho happens to have a few growing in one of their native plant collections, giving more people an opportunity to see them in bloom. Because the garden is located in a valley, their mountain kittentails flower a few weeks earlier than their native counterparts, which means you’ve probably already missed them – but there’s always next year!

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Spring Arrives

Spring is finally arriving in the Treasure Valley. Evidence can be found at Idaho Botanical Garden.
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Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Dianne’ – Witch Hazel

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Alnus viridis ssp. sinuata – catkins on Sitka Alder

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Crocus spp.

iris_ibg

Dwarf Iris (photo credit: Ann DeBolt)

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Cushion Plants and Species Richness

Cushion plants are in the news. A study published in the journal, Ecology Letters, has demonstrated that cushion plants can help increase species richness (the number of unique species in an ecological community) by modifying their micro-environment, which in turn allows certain species to exist in the community that would otherwise be unable to survive the harsh conditions. Other studies have had similar conclusions, but what is unique about this study is how extensive it was, involving 77 alpine plant communities on 5 continents.

The term “cushion plant” refers to a specific growth form. It describes a plant that grows low to the ground, has numerous small leaves and a closed, tightly-packed canopy with dense non-photosynthetic living and dead plant tissues below the canopy. Above ground it appears as a lush, thick, spreading, green mat; below ground it has a long taproot and an extensive root system. There are around 338 species of cushion plants, spanning 78 genera and 34 plant families, which can be found around the world mainly in alpine (high-altitude, tree-less) environments. Around half of the cushion plant species are native to the Andes in South America.

So, how are cushion plants able to increase species richness in their communities? There are a few unique characteristics of cushion plants that lead to this result:

– The tightly-packed, low to the ground growth form of cushion plants helps to modify the temperature of the underlying soil, working as a living mulch to keep the ground warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer. Plants that otherwise could not abide in extremely cold soil conditions, can thrive inside of a cushion plant due to this modification.

– The shading and covering of the ground also helps to maintain a higher level of soil moisture below cushion plants, resulting in more available water throughout the growing season, which is especially important during warm months of the year when water becomes scarce elsewhere.

– Cushion plants may also increase nutrient availability in the surrounding soil. This could be due to their long taproots and extensive root systems allowing them to “mine” the soil and pull up nutrients (and water) that would otherwise be unavailable to shallow-rooted plants. It could also be due to the high degree of dead plant material found within cushion plants that leads to an increase in the amount of organic material in the soil below. The warm, moist conditions of a cushion plant’s underbelly could speed up the rate of decomposition and nutrient cycling, making essential nutrients available to plants growing within them.

Because of these features, cushion plants act as “nurse plants” to species that grow within their mats, providing them with more accommodating soil temperatures, greater access to water, and a higher level of nutrients compared to the surrounding open ground. Some of these plant species would have little or no chance of survival in the harsh environment outside of the cushion plant. Cushion plants are also considered foundation species or keystone species because they play such a strong role in structuring their ecological community, affecting the diversity of species found in the landscape and the abundances of those species.

Silene acualis

A common and popular cushion plant: Silene acaulis. Common name: moss campion. Plant family: Caryophyllaceae. Occurs in high mountains of North America and Eurasia. Photo credit: wikimedia commons.

cushion plant as nurse plant

An example of a cushion plant with another plant species growing within it. Photo credit: wikimedia commons.

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Consider yourself introduced…

Winter is in full-force (at least for us northern hemisphere dwellers), so it may seem like an odd time to start blogging about the plant world. Everything has gone dormant. All color is gone. From now until the first signs of spring, we mostly just have gray days and frozen ground to look forward to – little in the way of life. But a blog has got to start somewhere and at some point, right? Especially when it’s been brewing in the back of my skull for so long. So why not now? And why not with this measly post announcing its arrival?

Plants have been my passion for years now. They have also become my career. This general obsession I have with them has led me to start this narrowly (yet in some ways quite broadly, as you will see) focused blog. My intention is to write about plants…but what about them exactly? A quick brainstorming session yields this list of topic ideas for posts: the science of plants, rare and endangered plants, the wonders of plants, my favorite plants, tips on growing and caring for plants, places to go to see plants, the benefits of plants, plants in the news, etc. It turns out there is a lot to say about plants – they are an extremely fundamental part of our existence on earth after all. Without plants, we certainly would not be here.

Whether the things about plants that you enjoy most include the science, the cultivation, the recreation, or simply just the aesthetics, there really is something that anyone can relate to when it comes to the world of plants. This blog will attempt to explore all of those things from the perspective of an educated yet still amateur and awkward botanist. I will endeavor to be approachable, interesting, and entertaining. Please feel free to post any comments and suggestions that you may have along the way, and let’s all have a friendly conversation and enlightening experience as we explore the endlessly fascinating and wildly rich world that is plant life.

white oak