Stay tuned.... Perhaps more to come?

hmmmm.....

testing... 1... 2... 3

is this thing on and still working?

Autumn faces...

"No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,

As I have seen in one autumnal face"

--John Donne, 'Elegy IX: The Autumnal'

One of my all-time favorite shrubs is Disanthus cercidifolius. This Asian member of the witch hazel family is one of the most spectacular for autumn leaf color.
















The heart-shaped leaves, reminiscent of redbud, Cercis spp. (and reflected in its specific epithet), are deep blue-green throughout the summer. But, like other temperate woody plants, around the middle of September (at least in northeastern North America) the leaves respond to the lengthening nights and cooler temperatures by breaking down the chlorophyll for future use.

At first, what is revealed are the various yellow pigments (mainly carotenoids and xanthophylls). These are actually present throughout the growing season, but because of the over-abundance of green chlorophyll, one cannot see them.

Solar radiation can be pretty intense on autumn days, even in Ithaca, NY, leading to the production of free radicals that damage leaves. Plants have a way of dealing with this, however. Certain pigments like anthocyanins, which are reddish, are produced and act as antioxidents, nullifying the impacts of excessive solar energy. If the autumn season is cloudy, without any bright days, fall leaf color will remain yellowish, for there is no reason to produce the expensive red pigments. Bring out the sunshine, though, and there can be an explosion in orange, red and purple leaves.


To illustrate this, look at the following sequence of Disanthus leaves:















The little hearts are green to purple, indicating that the days must have been pretty intense to illicit the production of anthocyanin.















But remember, it only happens when the leaves are being bombarded directly with high irradiance. Spread the leaves apart, and what is revealed?















Bright yellow splotches where the leaves had been covered up.

All of this likely took place in a single afternoon. This just goes to show how fascinating and dynamic plants are, and how intertwined the science and aesthetic can truly be.

Dissertating...

Sorry about the lack of posts of late but I've been funneling what little creative juices I have towards the dissertation. It is an interesting process, for sure, but not one I ever want to repeat!



Parthenocissus tricuspidata

Hints of autumn...

Mid-September, the nights are getting cooler, the mornings are crisp when I awake, and dusk seems to be arriving just a bit too soon. That means just one thing, that autumn is around the corner. I've been spending far too much time dissertating (a new word I coined, meaning the act of writing one's dissertation) to really notice the changes in the plants. A few things I have noticed...

Hydrangea arborescens 'Annabelle', backlit yellowish leaves and drying flower heads

Lindera benzoin (spicebush) fruits and leaves shifting color

Malus 'Honeycrisp', plump, sugary, and ready to be picked

Acer triflorum (three-flowered maple) with its characteristic fruits (samaras) in groups of 3

What will next week bring?

Life is a beach (plum)...

Yesterday, I helped harvest a bunch of beach plums (Prunus maritima).

Unless you are well versed in the prose of Vladimir Nabokov, you are likely wondering what they heck a beach plum is (or as he called it, a beech plum).

Cornell has the largest collection of them in the world, although that isn't really saying too much as it is a pretty obscure fruit; it is like that lady in Missouri who has the world's largest collection of creamhorn molds. Beach plum is native to the eastern coast of the US, from New Hampshire down to Maryland, and the Cornell repository represents populations from throughout this range. On Cape Cod, beach plum is harvested (mostly from the wild) and made into preserves and jams. The tourists love 'em.

The fruits are small, about a half-an-inch in diameter, and usually on the tart side even when fully ripe. However some bushes out in the field produce fruits that are VERY sweet. Part of Cornell's program is to evaluate the genetic diversity within these (and other) traits, and select genotypes that are consistant, high yielders. To date, nobody has ever done any selection; this is the first step.

One set of traits that I think would be great to select for is color variation. Usually, the fruits are purplish-blue, yet there are some bushes out in the field that produce cherry-red or even pinkish-yellow berries when ripe. Yesterday, we bulked everything together, as we didnt have time to sort them. But, it would be great to sort them separately in the future and have different colors of jams. Those would be great selling points!

Or, I have a better idea... Prunus maritima is similar to a European species, Prunus spinosa, which is what sloe gin is made from. Why not distill beach plums? I bet it would be quite tasty, and a heck of a lot better return!

The Scent of Cotton Candy in the Air...

This afternoon, as I wandered past several Cercidiphyllum japonicum, I was bowled over by the amazing aroma produced by their leaves this time of year: a crazy and intense cologne of cotton candy, carmelized brown sugar, and fermented raspberries.

That means but one thing, that autumn is fast approaching, and the katsura trees are cannibalizing their chlorophyll, producing maltol in the process.

If you have not had the opportunity to surround yourself with senescing katsura leaves, then you have not lived.

Go.
Find the nearest tree.
Sit beneath its branches.
Close your eyes; inhale deeply.
Dream of childhood memories, cookies fresh out of Grandma's oven.















Scattered katsura leaves, photo taken at the Morris Arboretum