Category: plants

‘Tis the season of seed cleaning

Posted on by andy.winfield
Weeks ago, Nick suggested I come in on a rainy day to the garden as there was lots of seed cleaning going on in the potting shed. Then it didn’t rain for three weeks. Defeated by the glorious Autumn weather we’ve had, I phoned Froggie, and asked whether I could come in to learn about seed washing…yes, that’s right, I said “washing”. I’m such an amateur! However, Froggie was kind and  refrained from laughing at me and just said, “we don’t really wash the seeds unless they have a particularly fleshy covering”.
We arranged a time for me to come in and, as it happened, it was yet another glorious sunny day. While this made for a nice bicycle commute for me, it meant that the volunteer gardeners were all out in the garden so I would be having an individual, hands-on learning experience with respect to seed cleaning.

So many envelopes

As Froggie and I entered the potting shed, she took me immediately over to a bench lined with trays in which rows of envelopes were stacked up. On the outside of each envelope is written the plant’s latin name, the family name, the year the seed was collected, which collection the plant is from, the accession number and a number that corresponds with its numbered listing in the Garden’s Index Seminum. This is a catalogue of the seeds and spores that have been collected in association with the University of Bristol Botanic Garden. This catalogue goes out annually to the Friends of the Garden, other Botanic Gardens and research institutes. Requests can be made for small quantities of seed for the purposes of research, breeding, conservation and education, or by members of the Friends of the Garden (subject to certain conditions).
The Garden likes to keep three years worth of seeds, but obviously different seeds have different storage potential. Some species, such as those in the Apiaceae family, which includes celery and parsnips, are generally only viable for a year, while other seeds have been found in archaeological digs that are estimated to be thousands of years old and have remained viable (see the 2,000 year old Judean date palm as an example).
Separating the seeds of Salvia forsskaolii. 
“We’ll keep back older years from groups such as the cereals, oats and wheat, as well as beans and peas,” said Froggie, “as they will likely remain viable and it’s good to have a reserve.”
Froggie explains that with the Garden’s involvement in the Seeds of Change project, there are even more demands on their seed stores. Though schools and community groups are encouraged to collect their own seed, the Botanic Garden is sending out lots of seed to start the projects off or replenish projects where collection efforts haven’t been successful.
In the little office at the back of the potting shed there are even more trays of seeds. This is where the staff compile all the seeds that go on the Botanic Garden’s annual seed list. Now having a sense of what the end product looks like, I sense that Froggie is about to show me how much work goes into filling each of these envelopes…

Separating the seed from the chaff

Pouring the Salvia seeds into a sieve to get
rid of the chaff.
I’m shown yet more trays of envelopes – but much bigger envelopes this time – many with stems poking out the top. The gardening staff and volunteers have collected the seed heads and placed them in these envelopes ready for cleaning and this is where the work begins. Froggie picks out the first envelope, it’s Salvia forsskaolii, commonly known as Indigo woodland sage.
We sit at the table, each with a white tray nestled within a larger black tray, which I assume is to collect the seeds that catapult out beyond the borders of my white tray. Froggie doles out a few sprigs of dried plant and shows me that the best technique for this particular plant is a simple flick of the seed head to help release the seeds. I flick and my white tray is scattered in small black seeds. Easy.
With the larger unwanted bits removed, we now pour our tray contents into a sieve to clean the seeds of any smaller bits. The clean seed is then poured into a smaller envelope that is placed back into the big envelope with the remaining plant material that is yet to be cleaned. When all the plant material has been worked, Froggie will then process the seed envelope, doing and final quality control check on the seed and making sure all the information is clearly written on the envelope.  
Nigella damascena before we begin to collect the seed.
We wipe down our trays and spray an anti-static spray to ensure there is no contamination as we move on to our next species – Nigella damascena. This too requires a tapping method, though some persistent seeds need to be squeezed out. There are numerous implements on the table for crushing plant material to get at the seed, but Froggies says they try to discourage crushing as much as possible as it makes for a lot of fine chaff that is difficult to separate out later.
As we work, Froggie fields questions from the volunteer gardeners who are looking for equipment or just confirming that what they’re doing is right. As we work, Froggie relays a few stories about misguided efforts of volunteers – stories of pruning gone awry or cutting back incorrect species – she chuckles about it all and has an ‘it all grows back’ sort of attitude about it. I know Froggie no doubt has a million other things she needs to be doing, but she gives me her full attention and focus and makes me feel as though she has all the time in the world for me. She creates a calming atmosphere, which no doubt comes in very handy when coordinating the efforts of so many volunteer gardeners and teaching new skills.
What my tray looks like after I’ve removed the Nigella seeds
from the seed heads. 
There is quite a bit of fine material mixed in with the Nigella seeds and so Froggie introduces me to another technique for separating seed from chaff. She takes some newspaper and folds it in half and pours seed and fine chaff together onto the paper. Then with a motion not dissimilar from a chef tossing almonds in a skillet, she carefully tosses the seeds in the paper. The fine, lightweight chaff moves to the top of the crease in the paper, while the heavier seeds move down. She can then simply give a very gentle blow to get rid of the chaff off the top of the paper. In the end she’s left with just the clean seeds.
We start on the last one – Avena orientalis – a grass. For this seed you hold the spikelet in one hand and flick the seed out. This particular species has a lovely dark seed, so it is very clear when you’ve got it all separated. 
Froggie uses newspaper to separate the lightweight chaff
from the heavier Nigella seeds.
Not all the seed cleaning is this easy. There are dust masks as some can be particularly dusty – but the staff tend to do the really nasty seed cleaning themselves, letting volunteers do the easier ones. If this were a rainy day, there would be volunteers everywhere working on this and having a good old chat.
Looking at the stacks of envelopes, I ask Froggie when seed cleaning needs to be finished.
“We need it all complete by February at the latest,” Froggie replies. “The seed list goes out in February and people will start to put requests in. We also start sowing at the end of February, beginning of March.”

Checking the lists

Cleaned Avena orientalis seeds with the
lighter leftover spikelets in the background.

In many of my excursions to the garden, the staff have introduced me to the many lists that they keep. There is a seed sowing list, a putting the garden to bed list, and now, I have seen the seed collecting list. This is where the staff make notes against each species – for example, if a plant was too small or late to come into flower. These notes are kept year to year and so if a species is less productive in one area of the garden than another or from one year to the next, all of this information is captured.
“The list is never finished,” says Froggie. “I will just update it when something else changes.”
In years where they are unable to collect seed for a particular species, they draw upon their reserves from previous year so that it can remain on the seed list. Annuals tend to be a priority, but also shrubs. The Garden works hard to insure that there is variety on the seed list.
As a member of the Friends of the Garden myself, I now look forward to receiving the seed list next year and I will have a much better appreciation of the work that goes into collecting the seeds for each of the nearly 200 species listed.

Forests may be more vulnerable to pests and disease in the future

Posted on by andy.winfield
As I sit in my home office watching the autumn rains and winds strip the last remaining colourful leaves off the trees outside, I find myself in awe of the tree. There’s a primary school across the street from my house and there are several huge beautiful chestnuts in its grounds where I watched the children shelter from the sun on hot days. There’s also the spindliest little apple tree that one could imagine, which despite its size produced at least a dozen enormous apples this year!
Trees affect every aspect of our lives – they provide food, timber, pulp and fibre, but beyond this they have important ecosystem functions in the natural landscape. Trees help to regulate our climate, they store and sequester carbon (about 30% of global CO2 emissions are absorbed by forests), they store water helping to prevent floods, they purify water and they provide habitat.
However, widespread pests and diseases have taken their toll on natural forests over the past century with outbreaks seemingly becoming more frequent and widespread in recent years. There has been considerable focus on the devastating effects of these outbreaks on trees with large economic value – orchards and timber plantations for example – but what are the consequences of the widespread death of our forests in terms of ecosystem services?
Oak in its autumn colours.
A review published recently in the journal Science considers this exact issue. UK researchers from the Universities of St. Andrews, Cambridge and Oxford reviewed the consequences of tree pests and diseases on ecosystem services around the globe.  The authors concluded that our current approaches to pest and disease management do not take into account the ecosystem services or the beneficiaries of these services provided by forests and that new approaches are needed, particularly as the likelihood of pest and disease outbreaks increases as a result of global climate change and globalisation.

Who’s attacking our forests?

Trees are attacked by any number of pests and diseases, including bacteria, viruses, invertebrates, water molds and fungi. The effects of these pathogens may be compounded as well; trees that have been defoliated by insects may be more vulnerable to disease.
Millions of years of co-evolution have generally allowed trees to build up natural defenses to the pathogens they encounter in their native environments.  However, the introduction of species or the movement of species outside their historical ranges has opened up a whole new world of pathogens that have been the cause of the most devastating attacks on our global forests in the last 200 years.
The American chestnut (Castanea dentata) was devastated by chestnut blight – a fungus accidentally introduced to eastern North American forests around 1900. In the early 20thcentury, over a quarter of the trees across approximately 200 million acres of eastern hardwood forests were American chestnuts, but by 1993 its frequency had declined to 0.5%. Today the tree is effectively extinct as very few mature trees are producing nuts.
Dutch elm disease – another fungal pathogen, which is transmitted by bark beetles – is familiar both in North America and Europe as it has eliminated mature elms (Ulmus spp.) from much of the landscape. Now there is concern that ash (Fraxinus excelsior) could suffer the same fate due to another fungal pathogen (Chalara fraxinea), which has been killing trees in Poland since the 1990s. Scientists are monitoring its spread to the rest of Europe.
The devastation wreaked on a Canadian forest by the
mountain pine beetle. Credit: D. Huber, Simon Fraser University
Public Affairs and Media Relations (Flickr CC).
As a Canadian I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention the devastating effects of the mountain pine beetle (Dendroctonus ponderosae). It has already killed several million hectares of pine species in Canada and the US and they expect over 37 million hectares of forest to be affected in British Columbia alone before 2020.
Of course, with globalisation and the widespread movement of plants and plant products around the world, the frequency and spread of pests and disease is only likely to increase. Climate change will also improve conditions for pests and disease as milder conditions in some areas may let some pathogens increase their natural range, or may permit pest populations to explode in numbers.

Attack of the Frankenfungus


When pathogens move around the globe they are not only introduced to new hosts and plant prey, they can also escape the natural predators and diseases that keep their populations under control.
This global movement also exposes pathogens to new genes that can make them even more virulent. For example, when the fungus that causes Dutch elm disease, Ophiostoma novo-ulmi, spread across the northern hemisphere, it hybridised with a native fungus species (O. ulmi) and acquired some new genes that decreased the elm’s ability to resist infection.   

What does the loss of dominant tree species mean for our forests?

Widespread loss of a dominant tree species can have devastating effects far beyond any economic value they may have had. A wide range of ecosystem services will initially be harmed, such as retention and purification of water, wildlife habitat and carbon storage. Large stands of dead trees also become fuel for wildfires, which are far less specific about their victims and further alter the ecosystem.
However, inevitably the lost trees are replaced by new species and as this natural succession occurs some of the ecosystem services will be restored – carbon storage and water purification, for example. Unfortunately, other ecosystem services may never be restored. New tree species will create different habitats altering the biodiversity. 
Some ecosystems are particularly vulnerable as they are dominated by a species that plays a critical role in maintaining the structure of that ecological community – known as a keystone species. Boreal forest (or taiga) is an excellent example of this. The conifers that dominate the northern latitudes of boreal regions are adapted to short growing seasons, recurring disturbance from storms, fire and floods, and growing in peatlands. Loss of any species in these regions would have a significant impact on the ecosystem structure.

Climate change packs a one-two punch for forests

Not only does climate change have the potential to increase the numbers and range of pests and disease, it can also make forests more susceptible to these infestations. Though the future is uncertain, predicted increases in extreme weather events – droughts, floods, cyclones, and extreme temperature fluctuations – are likely to put our forests under severe stress, increasing their vulnerability. 
Of course, some pests may also be hindered by climate change. For instance, species that rely on an insulating blanket of snow to overwinter may be more vulnerable if snow cover is reduced in a milder climate scenario.

What is the future of our forests?

Nobody knows the answer to this question. However, the UK authors of the Science paper bring to light the need to do more fundamental research in understanding how pathogens affect natural forest communities. To date, most research has focussed on economically important species, yet the ecological role of forests and the ecosystem services they provide have considerable value also.
The long life span of trees has been a barrier to understanding some aspects of the infection and spread of some pathogens; the time it takes for some trees to reach a reproductive stage could outlive the careers of some scientists. However, new methods in molecular biology are overcoming these barriers these days. Understanding the process behind these pathogens will help in the prediction of their spread as well as how they may respond to climate change.
The authors also call for better management approaches that identify different classes of threat, which are defined by (i) the type of disease-causing agent (e.g. fungus, bacteria, insect), (ii) how it moves (e.g. wind, water, animal, wood imports) and (iii) the type of ecosystem service threatened (e.g. keystone species, timber value).
Management practices can also help build resilience in our forests. For example, practices that help preserve the genetic diversity of species and avoid monoculture will provide the genetic foundation that will help species resist disease. Steps to mitigate climate change may help reduce the abiotic stress on forests and reduce the expansion of pest populations.

Though there remain many unknowns and the future is uncertain, the critical role forests play globally is clear. So, if you are able, get out into a local wood or forest today and appreciate it. Those trees are cleaning the air we breathe and the water we drink. They grew that apple you brought along for a snack! They’re doing a lot as they stand there, so appreciate it…dare I even say…hug a tree?!  Who knows, you might start a trend?!
The original paper is: Boyd IL, Freer-Smith PH, Gilligan CA, Godfray HCJ. (2013) The consequence of tree pests and disease for ecosystem services. Science, 342 (6160): doi 10.1126/science.1235773
The AAAS press release associated with the paper can be found here.

An apple a day

Posted on by andy.winfield

by Helen Roberts

Name three things Somerset is famous for and most people will say cider, Cheddar cheese and the Glastonbury Festival. While I could certainly talk at length about cider and its versatility (particularly having enjoyed a lovely mug of mulled cider recently at bonfire night), it is where cider begins – the humble apple – that is the subject of today’s post. I live near Wells, in the heart of Somerset, and the trees in the apple orchards are positively dripping with fruit at the moment, a welcome sight for orchard growers who had a dismal season in 2012. It was National Apple Day on the 21st of October, and many places around the UK have been hosting events to celebrate England’s national fruit. Humans and the common apple have a long history together in terms of its cultivation and it is a familiar fruit throughout the world. Essentially, the richness of this sweet little fruit lies in its ordinariness.

A brief history of the apple

The (not so) humble apple.
The domestic apple (Malus domestica) is derived from both Malus sieversii (from Central Asia) and the crab apple (Malus sylvestris). The domestic apple is thought to be derived from Almaten in eastern Kazakhstan and the northern slopes of the Tien Shan Mountains. Apple taxonomy is highly complicated, and I shall save you the details, but the Malus genus is included in the Rosaceae family and has approximately 55 species, which are divided into intraspecific groups or cultivars.
Evidence of apple collecting has been found in Neolithic (11,200 years ago) and Bronze Age (around 4,500 years ago) sites throughout Europe and there is evidence for its cultivation as early as 1000 BC in Israel. Carbonized fruits dating from 6500 BC have been found at Çatal Hüyük in Anatolia and remains of both sour crab apples and a larger form, which may have been cultivated, have been found at lake dwellings of prehistoric origin in Switzerland.
It is thought that apple seeds were probably transported along the greatsilk trade routes from Central China to the Danube by travellers, either in saddlebags or in horses’ guts as early as Neolithic and Bronze Age times. The routes passed through Almaten and the northern slopes of the Tien Shan Mountains.
Improved forms of apples are thought to have developed in the FertileCrescent, which covers Israel, Lebanon, Jordan, Syria, and Iraq. Apple trees reached Palestine in about 2000 BC and from there, were taken to Egypt.
Apples were important in Ancient Greece and various writings give evidence of the propagation of apple trees. Homer in the Odyssey, written between 900 and 800 BC, describes a large orchard of both apples and pears. It is the Romans that are credited with developing apple cultivation and storage. They recognized the importance and profitability of orchards and brought apples, and hence orchards, to Western Europe. Many Roman writers mentioned various cultivars of apples in their writings.
During medieval and pre-industrial times monasteries became major centres for apple production, particularly for cider production. King Henry VIII imported many different cultivars during his reign from 1509 to 1547, including pippins from France. In the mid 16th century, Dutch refugees escaping from religious persecution moved to Kent and Surrey to set up market gardens to supply London, and planted orchards for this purpose. During the 16th century and early 17th century grafting was further developed in Europe with specific rootstocks being imported from France and then propagated in English nurseries. European settlers, introduced apple culture to North and South America, South Africa, Australia and New Zealand. The first documented apple orchard in the USA was planted near Boston in 1625.

Cider making

The word cider is derived from the latin word sicera which means ‘strong drink’. The first recording of cider making is from Norfolk in 1205, but it was common in many different areas of England, particularly the western counties of Somerset, Devon, Worcester and Hereford. Apples suitable for cider have a sweet juice and an acid pulp. The names given to cider apple varieties are lovely in themselves, varieties known as “bitter sweets” and “bitter sharps”, such as  Slack-me-Girdle, Foxwhelp, Lambrook pippin, Chisel Jersey, Porter’s Perfection and Royal Somerset.
Cider making takes part in late Autumn and the traditional method was to crush the apples between heavy stone wheels driven by horses. In the West Country the resulting pulp was then spread onto straw or wooden racks and cloths and a large sandwich or ‘cheese’ was made by laying one rack on top of the other. Set into a wooden press, it was squeezed repeatedly and the juice collected. I remember watching this method of cider production at a local farm as a child in Central Somerset. Today cider has made a come back and there are many smaller scale producers cropping up in areas of the West Country.
Bristol University has a long history of research into cider production at Long Ashton. The research station was originally set up to facilitate the development and improvement of West Country cider and formed the National Institute of Fruit and Cider (NIFC). Scientists identified the best apple varieties, growing conditions, and production methods for growers and cider-makers; many cultivars, such as Ashton Brown Jersey, orginate from Long Ashton.   

Weird and wonderful facts

Apples are very much entwined in our culture and history. Many popular apple-based phrases, such as “the apple of my eye”, “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”, “rotten apple”, “rotten to the core” and “upset the apple cart”, are embedded within our culture. Other words also have apples at their core (groan);  costermonger – a street seller of fruit – comes from the Costard apple. “Costard” means ribbed and gave rise to “coster”, while “monger” means seller.
Erika Janik, author of Apple: AGlobal History, said the apple is “Enmeshed in the folklore and history of nations around the globe, apples have been associated with love, beauty, luck, health, comfort, pleasure, wisdom, temptation, sensuality and fertility – all this in addition to good eating and drinking.”

Apples at the Botanic Garden

If you managed to get to the Bee and PollinationFestival at the Botanic Garden, you will have seen a small cider press in action. You may have also seen a potted orchard on display near the pond, featuring a number of varieties of apple, including Bramley, Golden Delicious, Lord Derby, Ashmead’s Kernel, Discovery, James Grieve, Spartan, Fiesta and Greensleeves. It was yet another example of how pollinators are critical to our food security – pollination of our orchards and the production of the (not so) humble apple.

A snapshot of autumn

Posted on by andy.winfield

By Helen Roberts

With autumn having finally kicked in, what better way to spend a sunny Sunday than drinking in the colours of the Botanic Garden and tapping into our creative juices. A few weeks ago, Nicola and I did just this, enjoying the Botanic Gardens’ September colours whilst also taking part in the watercolour course “A Snapshot of Autumn”. It was five hours of uninterrupted, child-free, creative learning for two enthusiastic mums!
‘I straightaway learnt apples are difficult to paint…’ –
watercolour by Helen Roberts.
Annie Morris, an experienced botanical artist and member of The Society of Botanical Artists and Society of Floral Painters, taught 17 of us on the day. The course doesn’t require any previous experience, which was good as Nicola and I are both beginners in watercolours. Though neither of us have ever attended a course, both of us (I think) are confident putting pencil or brush to paper in other media.
Annie started with demonstrations on drawing and basic watercolour techniques. We crowded around her as she worked confidently and swiftly, first drawing the outline of the leaves in front of her, then applying her washes of colour. Annie had brought in a considerable assortment of cuttings as inspirational material; there were lovely sprigs of rowan with bright red berries, clusters of acorns and branches of apples and sloes to choose from as our subject matter. Nicola grabbed an oak cluster and I chose an apple branch and we both steered clear of the rowan sprigs, fearing the complication of all the pointy leaflets.
The majority of people on the course were not new to watercolours and had attended some of Annie’s courses before; some are currently enrolled in the traditional botanical art course being run on Monday afternoons at the Botanic Gardens. Most people just wanted to improve on their technique and enjoy a day of uninterrupted painting.
Nicola’s oak sprig.
After selecting our foliage of choice, we diligently set to work sketching. Annie had endless tips – for instance; how to place the plant in a way so it sits in a natural position rather than like some specimen sprawled on a table.  When we were satisfied we had captured the essence of our cutting in pencil, we then took the plunge with the watercolours. I learnt straight away, as I took the paintbrush in my hand, that watercolour painting is very difficult; Annie made it all look so easy with her demonstrations. You can’t muck about with the paints, you have to think about light and dark before putting brush to paper. You almost paint in the negative, if that makes any sense, thinking about where you don’t want to apply paint rather than where you do. Once you’ve added colour you cannot take it away easily and you don’t use white paint in watercolours to add light.
Straight away I struggled with mixing my colours and my initial apple leaves were an insipid green. Nicola, on the other hand, was struggling with having to work quickly and with small bits at a time to avoid hard edges when the paint dries too quickly. Before we broke for lunch, Annie pulled us back to her desk to demonstrate how to add the finer detail – with a few strokes she was bringing her samples to life and giving them depth.
We spent lunch in the garden, soaking up the sun’s rays. We sat with a woman who had travelled from Monmouth and had done a lot of calligraphy, but not watercolour. She and her husband are members of the Botanic Garden and she thought the watercolour course was a wonderful excuse to visit the Garden.

Helen’s apple branch – the product of five delightful
hours spent painting.
We returned to our work to add leaf veins, holes, fruit, nut and stem details. I straightaway learnt apples are difficult to paint and was muttering a bit about my choice of fruit. Nicola was stumped with adding detail to the acorn cup. However, after 5 hours we had produced something pretty acceptable. The final demonstration from Annie was a number of useful techniques, such as how to paint a water drop on a leaf – the result was truly amazing, so lifelike!
We all had a very inspiring day and I was pleased with my final painting. My 5-year old son wants to frame it! Both Nicola and I are going to be investing in some good quality brushes and enrol on Annie’s course in the winter. In the meantime, we’ll be looking to the beautiful colours on display this autumn to get inspired and do some more painting!

Bringing the Levels to the Garden

Posted on by andy.winfield
If you’ve been to the Botanic Garden recently, you may have noticed an area by the pond that has been sectioned off with some ropes. This is the future home of the Somerset Levels and Moors display at the University of Bristol Botanic Garden.  It is one of the mini-habitats of areas that are found here in the West Country that the Garden is replicating as part of its display of rare and threatened plants.
The Somerset Levels run from the foot of the Mendip Hills through to the first rising of the Quantock Hills and occupy an area of about 150,000 acres. The Levels are an interesting habitat, which has formed as a consequence of some rather unique geological features as well as hundreds of years of human modification; they support a rich diversity of species and as a result are of national and international importance.

I had an opportunity to speak with both Andy Windfield, a botanical horticulturist at the Garden, and Nick Wray, the Curator, about the Levels display that’s being constructed and there is an incredible amount of thought and work that goes into it. It’s not simply a matter of taking some of the local species and plunking them down in the garden, Nick and the Garden staff are taking great care to replicate some of the natural processes, such as the seasonal rise and fall of water levels, that make the Somerset Levels such a unique habitat.  

What makes the Levels unique?

The Somerset Levels are a sedge-peat moor, which is very distinct from a sphagnum moss bog that you normally associate with upland areas in the UK or low-lying areas where there is high rainfall and little drainage. Whilst there are some sphagnum mosses on the Levels, it’s mainly sedges and grasses that grow there and this produces a different structure of peat.
Below the peat is an impermeable layer of clay that used to be the bed of a shallow sea. In fact, until the early part of the Middle Ages, large parts of the Levels were still part of an inland sea.  However, local people began to drain the area, creating dykes and ditches to lower the water level.
The Levels are still a catchment for the surrounding hills, which are comprised of primarily carboniferous limestone. This is very hard limestone and it’s hard to weather, making the groundwater running into the Somerset Levels alkaline. This is a unique situation because peat bogs are normally associated with very acidic water, yet the Levels are a sedge peat where the groundwater can be alkaline.

So, how do you replicate all this in the Botanic Garden?

First, Andy takes me out to the pond and we are standing near the rock garden – an area a child visiting the Garden once called ‘wiggly water’ and the name has stuck with all the staff here.  He explains that in 2005, when the Garden moved to this location, one of the first things they did was mark out this main pool.
“Nick started explaining what this was going to be,” explained Andy. “The main pool was constructed with the Levels display already in mind, with this side of the pond 5cm lower than the other edges. So, when the water overflows in the pond it runs down into this display area.”
The Somerset Levels display, with the large pond in the
background, has to settle before planting can begin.
 At the base of the display, they’ve put in a liner with a depth of about 30cm to simulate the impermeable clay bed. This replicates one of the key features of the Somerset Levels – the seasonal rise and fall of the water level.  In the su

mmer this display area will be allowed to dry out, but the liner below will create a reservoir below.

On top of the liner, they’ve put in truckloads of waste sedge peat (a bi-product from a former industry in Somerset). “It took staff and volunteers lots of time to move it in,” says Andy. “We’re now letting this sink and we’ll likely need to add more peat on top before it’s ready to be planted out.”
The rock garden around the wiggly water is comprised of carboniferous limestone and is planted with rare and threatened native plants of the Mendip Hills. It is not a mere coincidence that the Levels display sits adjacent. Nick explains, “Just as in nature the Mendip Hills are next to the Somerset Levels, here at the Botanic Garden the Mendip Hills are next to the Somerset Levels.”

Planting out the Levels

Many of the plants that the Garden will replicate in this area are grasses and sedges and small herbs. There are some shrubby species also and Nick points out a bog myrtle by the pond that was collected for the Garden in the 1970s from Shapwick. It has an incredible smell and not surprising as it comes from the same family as cloves, allspice and eucalyptus (Myrtaceae). Bog myrtle creeps slowly through the peaty soils and creates dense thickets in these peaty soils, so this will be one of the plants included in the display.
Nick also hopes to have a small area of some carnivorous plants because the round-leaved sundew (Drosera rotundifolia) grows in the Somerset Levels, as does the common bladderwort (Utricularia vulgaris). There will also be some ferns such as the royal fern (Osmunda regalis), which is a fantastic foliage plant that grows at the edges of the ditches in the Somerset Levels,
Some of the plants will be sown directly into the peat area once it has settled and been topped up, while others will be sown in little pots or plugs, grown on and then planted out. All seed and plantlet collection is being done with the permission of Natural England and Andy and Nick will be doing the collections themselves.
“One of the exciting plants we’ll be getting in here is a population of marsh orchids,” says Nick. “We already have those marsh orchids growing in our nursery and they’ve been raised from seed from an original collection back in the 1970s of southern marsh orchids. So we want a large population of deep pink and purple orchids.”
Once mature, the main flowering interest in the display will be late June and early July after which it will go to seed and then be cut in August to tidy it up. Then it will be allowed to be wet and grow slowly through the winter months.
Planted in the ordinary soil around the peat area, there will be species of willows, which are common to the area, including the almond willow (Salix triandra), the goat willow (Salix caprea) and, if there’s room, the common osier (Salix viminalis)> These will be coppiced so they don’t get too big.

The sweet track

The sweet track is a very ancient pathway that runs across the Somerset Levels – built in the early Bronze Age.  It consisted of posts of timber pushed into the soft peaty earth above the water with horizontal boards of split timber fixed to them. It created a causeway about 3-4 ft above the water that enabled people to walk easily regardless of the water level.
The timbers, which were embedded into the peat, which is anaerobic, didn’t rot and so the nearly 4,000 year old relics were discovered in the 1970s and at the time were considered the oldest timber trackway in Northern Europe. Nick has contemplated trying to incorporate the sweet track into the Levels display in the Garden as well.
“I would like to find out more about what the timber species were,” said Nick, “and maybe have those species growing in our display, perhaps with a sculptural representation of the sweet track.”
I look forward to seeing the display progress over the next year as the staff and volunteers bring the Somerset Levels to life here in the Botanic Garden.

Plants that endure

Posted on by andy.winfield

by Helen Roberts

Whether perched upon a windblown cliff or nestled in a small crack deep within a canyon, some plants seem to overcome all odds of survival. These survivors, which are frequently rare, quite often grow in remote inhospitable environments, show true resilience and perseverance and are highly adapted to their specific habitats. You just have to admire them for their sheer tenacity.
However, some of these ‘bulldog’ plants aren’t the hardy-looking brutes one might expect of such survivors; sometimes they are delicate and very beautiful. Discoveries of plants such as these are occurring regularly with over 2,000 new plant species being found worldwide each year. Many are found in far flung areas of the globe, as well as on our very own doorstep here in Bristol.

A Malaysian beauty

The newly described Ridleyandra chuana with a
rare two flowers. Photo credit: L.S.L. Chua
A rare and endangered endemic plant found in the biologically diverse Pennisular Malaysia has recently been described. The beautiful plant is called Ridleyandra chuana and is only found in two small mountainous areas of forest.
The plant can be simply described as a perennial herb that is somewhat woody with a rosette of dark hairy leaves at its base. It has a long slender unbranched stem with very delicate and beautiful cone like flowers, which are white with dark maroon purple stripes.
This herb grows in very challenging habitats, such as moss covered granite rock emdedded in soil or moss covered granite boulders in extreme damp and shade on steep slopes.
The maroon/purple cone-like flower of
R. chuana. Photo credit: L.S.L. Chua.
The plant was initially discovered back in 1932 at Fraser’s Hill, Pahang, but only recently have enough data been collected to formally describe the plant. It is named after botanist and conservationist Lillian Swee Lian Chua who discovered another population whilst carrying out a biological inventory of summit flora on Gunung Ulu Kali, Pahang. Because of its limited numbers (only 130 individual plants are known to exist) it has been classed as Endangered under the IUCN criteria. Of the two locations of where it is found, one location is threatened.
“The population at Fraser’s Hill falls within a Totally Protected Area and consists of about 30 plants that grow in an undisturbed site away from tourist trails and is too remote to be affected by development,” said Dr Ruth Kiew, author of the recent study describing this exquisite plant. “The other population consists of less than 100 plants at Gunung Ulu Kali, which is on private land in a hill resort that is severely threatened by road widening and associated landslips, by changes in microclimate due to edge effect as the forest becomes more and more fragmented and that is in danger of encroachment from future development. The chances of this latter population surviving is very slim. On the other hand, the rediscovery of the Fraser’s Hill population after a hundred years illustrates the resilience of species to survive if the habitat remains undisturbed.”

A beauty closer to home

Such rare and endangered plants that cling to life in the most inhospitable places are also found not too far from Bristol Botanic Gardens and are now being displayed at the Gardens as part of their ‘ex-situ’ conservation collections. The Avon Gorge, a Carboniferous limestone gorge cut out by the River Avon provides a sheltered microclimate of sun-baked niches for a wide variety of endemic species within ancient scrub and grassland communities. Many of these species are threatened by scrub invasion, introduced species and engineering works. Of these rare species, there are two endemic whitebeams, Sorbus bristoliensis and Sorbus wilmottiana that literally cling to life in the Gorge. 

They are being grown at the botanic gardens and also a number of newly discovered and described endemic whitebeams are currently being cultivated to add to the existing whitebeam collection. Wilmott’s Whitebeam (Sorbus wilmottiana) is listed by the charity Plantlife as one of our 10 most threatened woodland plants in the UK, which is why ex-situ populations are so important in helping to understand species and aid in the long term management and future development of the AvonGorge. The study and protection of rare plants is beneficial in the long run not only to the individual species, but also the plant communities to which they belong. 

Is there a role for plant-based medicine in our modern society?

Posted on by andy.winfield

What is the first image that comes to mind when you read the words “plant-based medicine”? This is the question James Wong presented the audience with last Thursday night at the 5th annual Annals of Botany Lecture held at the University of Bristol.
The audience, admittedly filled with plant aficionados, came up with answers such as aspirin and morphine. However, the same question posed during a university course that Wong teaches came up with some different imagery: dread locks and muddy boots, fads and big business, witch doctors in the Amazon, and cauldrons and concoctions. Imagery that suggests that plant-based medicine is a system of health care that is impractical, ineffective and therefore irrelevant. Given these cultural perceptions, is there still a role for plant-based medicine in an age where we are constructing nanoparticlesand running quantum algorithms?
Wong spent well over an hour exploring this question with an audience of over 200 last week – dispelling many of the myths that surround herbal medicine and distinguishing between scientific fact and cultural belief. But before I get to that, let me tell you a little bit about the man himself.

A self-proclaimed botany geek

If you’re not already familiar with the infectious smile of James Wong and his unbridled enthusiasm, let me introduce you. James is an ethnobotanist. He studies the relationships between plants and people – how people use plants, how they learn about what plants do, and how plants are perceived across societies.  He trained at Kew Gardens and his own research into traditional medical systems has taken him to Ecuador, Southern Chile and Indonesia.
You may recognise James from the award-winning BBC Two series Grow Your Own Drugs and as a member of the BBC One Countryfileteam. If that’s not enough, he’s also an award-winning garden designer and best-selling author. His energy level makes me think that he may have a very thorough understanding of some of the stimulant properties of plants, but as I’m working my way through my fourth cup of tea this morning, who am I to talk!

Drawing a thick black line between conventional and herbal medicine

James puts up a picture of a pile of pills on the left hand side of the screen and a picture of herbs on the right. These represent conventional and herbal medicine accordingly. James then uses some very opposing language to describe perceptions about these two schools of medicine – synthetic vs natural, evidence-based vs ineffective, proven safe vs potentially dangerous. Then, he draws a thick black line between the two.
“In the western world,” says James, “people in one camp immediately dismiss the other camp. But this idea is not scientifically based, it’s a cultural perception. Most scientists don’t see this black line. They are concerned about the efficacy of a substance rather than the source.”
For starters, many pills are derived from plants. In fact, 50% of the most commonly used conventional drugs and 75% of current cancer treatments are derived from natural sources. James provides a couple of fantastic examples:
·         Houttuynia cordata – is given as an injection treatment- known as HCI –as a treatment for severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) because of its anti-inflammatory properties.
·         Artemisinin is isolated from the plant Artemisia annua, sweet wormwood, and is taken as an antimalarial, replacing many of the quinine-based antimalarials.
So why is it that with so many medicines combating some of the toughest diseases of the 21st century coming from natural sources, there is still a perception that herbal medicines are best left for those that dance barefoot in the mud at Glastonbury?

Myth 1: Herbal medicines are ineffective

Reason 1: lack of evidence

The number one reason that herbal medicines are thought to be ineffective is due to a lack of evidence. James sites cost as the main reason that evidence lacks for these herbal remedies. With an estimated 50,000 medicinal plant species on the planet, James estimates that it would cost between USD $4.5 trillion and 36 trillion to test all these potential plant species (assuming we’ve actually found them) for the 300 most common ailments. This is 81 years of the world’s combined GDP. Not only is this unrealistic, there is very little economic incentive to even try to test all medicinal plants as patenting plant sources is very difficult.
The other challenge with providing evidence for the effectiveness of herbal medicines is that much of the testing is, quite frankly, inaccurate. James uses Echinaceaas a classic example of this. In a study looking at the efficacy of Echinacea, they tested the dried leaves and flowers of E. purpurea – the common garden species. However, it is the fresh root of E. pallida and E. angustifolia that is used in traditional medicines.
“This is like testing the fur of a kitten to determine the effectiveness of the claws of a tiger,” says James.
James also referred to a paradigm mismatch as the root of these perceptions.   We are products of our paradigm environments. You and I fully understand the concept of germs because we were raised in that paradigm. However, think about someone from an isolated tribe in the Amazon grappling with the idea that we have little creatures living on and in us that grow and multiply simply by dividing in two and can make us sick. It’s simply not plausible to them!
Morning glory seeds mashed up have mind-altering effects. It was once mainstream to use this powerful hallucinogen during psychoanalysis. The patient, in an altered state, would talk about issues that would otherwise be suppressed and then the psychoanalyst would be able to help interpret these ramblings and resolve the patient’s problems. In Latin America, the seeds are used in much the same way, except replace the psychoanalyst with a shaman and the mind-altered state is an opportunity to seek advice from spirit guides; same medicinal plant, but two very different paradigms.
We also seem to forget that the food we put in our mouth is, indeed, medicine. The prunes I gave my son yesterday…very effective…and I don’t need three clinical trials to confirm that!

Reason 2: loss of traditional medical knowledge

The second main reason for the myth that herbal medicines are ineffective is that there has been an incredible loss of traditional medical knowledge. When the Spaniards arrived, they brought with them disease that wiped out 70% of the indigenous people of what is now Ecuador and with this, much of the traditional knowledge.
Along with disease, the European visitors carried exotic seed that thrived in the new habitat that they created as they deforested the land.  Today, 90% of medicinal plants in Ecuador are hedgerow species from Spain. The indigenous people had to learn about the uses of these new plants that were now far more convenient than the small isolated populations of their traditional medicinal plants. It was then the knowledge of these new exotic species that was passed down to the next generations.

Reason 3: many herbal medicines simply do not work

Sadly, a few bad seeds with some overly-stated advertising can ruin it for an entire industry. James uses the anti-oxidant powers of pomegranates as an example. Yes, pomegranate does have relatively high levels of anti-oxidants, but in fact, no more than say an apple.

Myth 2: Herbal medicines are impractical

At this point, James returned the discussion back to food and how everything we eat has some biological effect on our bodies…those four cups of tea I had this morning certainly have! Lunch, for example, might include a curry, a couple of fig bars, a piece of chocolate and a cup of coffee.  In our body, this breaks down to antiseptic (onion) and decongestant (chili) in the curry, laxative (fig) in the fig bars, psychoactive (chocolate), and stimulant (caffeine). I don’t know about you, but eating has never been an impractical task for me!
To address this public perception of impracticality, many companies have packaged herbal medicines up in sterile looking ways in order to give the appearance of being synthesised drugs. A brand of IBS relief capsules, for example, is no more than a peppermint jelly when the ingredients are examined. An analgesic cream is simply refined capsaicin taken from chilies.
So, does herbal medicine still have a role to play in our age of information and technology?
“It does still have a role to play,” says James, “because we still eat and because we still use plants as the base for many of the drugs in use.”
In fact, James claims that the UK is now the world’s biggest grower of daffodils. The flowers aren’t for display purposes, they are grown for a stress hormone they produce known as galanthamine. The drug is very effective in the treatment of the symptoms of Alzheimer’s. The soil conditions in Wales are apparently ideal for stressing these lovely spring flowers into producing the hormone in abundance!
James’ final thought of the evening was that it’s not really a matter of whether herbal medicine still has a role to play, “it’s a matter of whether you wish to accept it.”
If you have an opportunity to listen to James Wong speak, I highly recommend it. He is both entertaining and educational .
A reminder that Sunday May 19th is Fascination of Plants Day at the Botanic Garden. There will be interactive displays, a plant hunt and garden tours running from 10am to 4:30pm. Find out more at the garden’s events page http://www.bristol.ac.uk/botanic-garden/events/2013/84.html. 

Weaving Ethel: How the Botanic Garden is bringing moas back to life

Posted on by andy.winfield

Last week I met Ethel. I’m not sure what image that name conjures up for you – perhaps it is the gutsy singer Ethel Merman or the eccentric EastEnders character Ethel Skinner. For me, I immediately think of Lucille Ball’s sidekick character Ethel Mertz in the old American sitcom I Love Lucy. It seems that Ethel is one of those names that summons a big personality, and the Botanic Garden’s Ethel is no exception. Of course, this might be due in part to her impressive stature at nearly 8 feet in height.

Ethel is a new willow sculpture currently under construction at the Botanic Garden. She is the first of two moa birds that will be on display among the native New Zealand plants in the garden. Despite her towering height, Ethel is going to be the smaller of the two birds, with the other giant expected to stand closer to 12 feet tall. The sculpture was named by her creator, Sally Meadows, who has been working two days a week on the ambitious project since February.

“Ethel had to be a female,” explains Sally, “because the female moas were much bigger than the males. It’s one of the biggest size differences known among bird species.”

Ethel is the first of two moa bird willow sculptures to
be displayed at the Botanic Garden later this year.


The plight of the moa

Moas are an extinct group of flightless birds that were endemic to New Zealand until they were driven to extinction. There were nine species all together, and the largest of the species, Dinornis robustus and Dinornis novaezelandiae, could reach heights of 12 ft and are estimated to have weighed around 500 lb.

Artist renditions of the birds look very similar to an emu, with feathers that have evolved to look more like fur, broad feet and sturdy legs built for running, and a long neck for browsing foliage. While originally it was thought that moas stood with very upright necks, much like emus and ostriches, a more complete analysis of their bone structure suggests that it was more likely that they held their heads in a more forward position.

The ancestral moa species was thought to arrive on New Zealand approximately 60 million years ago (Mya). A sparse fossil record prior to 6 Mya leaves many ambiguities about the early evolution of moa species. However, it is thought that numerous species had evolved on both the North and South Islands and then at around 22 Mya, during the Oligocene drowning, those inhabiting the North Island went extinct as the land mass was below sea level. Those on the South Island took refuge on the land that remained above sea level (only about 18% of the current land mass of New Zealand) and then are thought to have recolonised the North Island again about two million years later.

Prior to the arrival of humans, the moa’s only known predator was the Haast’s Eagle, which had a wingspan that was just shy of 10 ft and weighed a notable 33 lbs. However, as a result of hunting, habitat loss and a slow population regeneration time, all species of moa were driven to extinction by the first Polynesian settlers, ancestors of the Māori, by around 1400 AD.

The tall tree with foliage only at the
top is mature lancewood (Pseudopanax
crassifolius) – the immature plant can
be seen in the lower right corner.

Plants adapt to the selective pressures of tall grazing moas

Moas were grazing herbivores and analysis of the beaks suggests they were likely very effective ones; Pachyornis elephantopusis thought to have been able to slice through 8mm diameter twigs with its secateurs-like beak.
However, one native New Zealand plant that evolved significant defences against these grazers is the horoeka or lancewood (Pseudopanax crassifolius). For the first 20 years or so of its life, this tree has a series of very long, narrow, leathery leaves that have a very prominent central vein and serrated edges.  The leaves come off the narrow spindly stem and point downwards, which essentially resembles a spindly palm tree with knives pointing out in all directions. I imagine this would not be a herbivore’s first choice, even with secateurs for a beak.

Yet, as the plant matures it begins to transform its shape and appearance entirely. The lancewood eventually begins to form branches at the top and the new leaves lose their serrated edges and become wider and shorter. The hypothesis is that this species coevolved with the moa and once the plant surpassed the height of these grazers it shifted its strategy from a moa defense to a photosynthesizing offense; broader leaves on branches would be far better at harnessing the sun’s energy than the narrow downward facing leaves it had earlier in its life.
The immature lancewood has evolved
highly unpalatable leaves.

Ethel’s taller sister will eventually stand majestically near the Botanic Garden’s lancewood trees – a wonderful memory of an evolutionary arms race.

So how does one weave an 8’ tall moa out of willow?

When Sally shows me into the potting shed, Ethel is dramatically suspended by a number of ropes from the rafters. This enables Sally to move her up and down to work on different parts and to lift her out of the way if the gardeners need the extra space. However, with her head and neck complete, most of her body frame in place, and some temporary legs for stability, she is becoming increasingly less mobile.

Sally had taken a weekend willow weaving course at the Botanic Garden and had helped Vicky, a Botanical Horticulturist, do some demonstrations at last year’s sculpture exhibition in the garden. So, when she realised she was going to be made redundant in her job, she spoke to the garden’s curator, Nick Wray, about helping out with the moa project. The next thing she knew she was in charge of weaving the giant bird.

“I like doing creative things,” said Sally, “and my work in the past hasn’t offered me this.”

At the core of the sculpture is chicken wire that runs through the body and up the neck to provide extra strength. The overall 3D shape of the sculpture is due to a frame of different sized willow rings. The rings are then joined together by lengths of willow that are woven through the circles to give longitudinal support as well as provide a framework for weaving the outside.

Sally gets the willow from Somerset in bundles that are about five feet in length. The willow needs to be

Sally’s hands work swiftly as she weaves Ethel’s
willow body.

soaked for roughly a day per foot of length. It then needs to be given a couple of days to dry before it can be worked with.


Sally takes a length of willow and clips off a few inches at both the thick end as well as the spindly end. She then runs the willow across her knee, where she is wearing kneepads, to improve the flexibility as well as test it.

“If it’s not properly soaked,” explains Sally, “it will break on my knee and I can either re-soak it or throw it out.”

After the branch has passed the knee test, Sally takes it and pushes it through the woven circular structures of the frame tying it off at one end. Sometimes she uses twist ties to temporarily hold parts together as she works the piece, but these are removed and it is only the winding of willow upon willow that holds the massive sculpture together in the end…oh, and a little chicken wire at the core.

Ethel’s head and neck detail is complete.

“In the end, you’re at the mercy of the willow”

Sally points to a spot on the jaw line of the completed head and admits it bothers her. I have no idea what spot she’s talking about because it all looks pretty amazing to me, but she goes on to talk about the fluidity of the art. She works from a plan, but admits that “in the end, you’re at the mercy of the willow”.

Well, she’s not complete yet, but I think Ethel will do her name proud.

Re-potting lotus ready for the new growing season

Posted on by andy.winfield

The lotus plant is a symbol of friendship, family, rejuvenation, hope, rebirth, fortune, purification and positivity. The rhizomes of the plant lie buried in the sludgy, smelly mud on the bottom of lakes and ponds. Rising up from the mud are the leaves and the strong stems, which come up through the water to support the heavily scented, beautiful flowers. This pattern of growth makes the lotus a very important and powerful symbol in Buddhism. It signifies the progress of the soul as the flower rises from the primeval mud of materialism, through the waters of experience, and into the bright sunshine of enlightenment (source). Though most water plants send blooms to the surface in this way, only the lotus flower sits up to one metre above the water’s surface, truly rising above it all (source).

Lotus are a primitive plant. The fossil record shows that 15 million years ago there were eight different species of lotus, which were later reduced to only two species – the Asian lotus (Nelumbo nucifera) and the American lotus (Nelumbo lutea). The spiritual, nutritional and medicinal importance of this plant in Chinese, Vietnamese and Indian cultures has made it the focus of extensive research and breeding programs. There are over 500 different cultivars of lotus in the world and the University of Bristol Botanic Garden has carefully chosen cultivars that show the range of flower forms and colours for its small collection.

Last week I met Penny Harms, Glasshouse Coordinator at the Botanic Garden, in the potting shed to see what she’s doing to prepare the Garden’s lotus collection for the next growing season. Penny and her team pulled the lotus plants out of the pond in October, where they have been sitting dormant in their pots ever since. Now, it’s time to give them some attention and get them ready to go back into the pond.

Penny is very careful when cleaning
the lotus rhizomes as any damage will
affect its growth.

Looking after Lotus

First, Penny tips the pots out, getting rid of all the old soil and gently collecting the lengths of rhizomes that wind around in circles within the pots. The rhizomes are then placed into plastic trays with lids that have holes to ensure they don’t get moldy. Over several days, Penny then sorts through each of the trays and pulls off any of last year’s rhizomes, which are brown and rotten compared with the cream-coloured healthy rhizomes.

“You have to be really careful,” explained Penny. “These are the growing shoots – this is a leaf here – so if you damage these, the plant won’t grow very well this year.”

Once the rhizomes have been cleaned they are potted up. Penny has prepared a special mix which is a loam-based potting mix to which she adds Bracken Down – a mixture of thoroughly composted bracken, bark and manure – and Osmocote – a controlled release fertilizer.

“Osmocote releases its nutrients over 18 months in a normal pot,” said Penny, “but because the pots are going into a really warm tropical environment, this will speed up considerably. It will release the nutrients over the summer, which is quite handy as these are quite hungry plants.”

Bonemeal is also added to the soil to give added support to the roots and chicken manure pellets are also added to provide more food. The lotus plants replenish themselves each year, so all of the rhizomes Penny showed me will be completely replaced by new growth this year. If the soil doesn’t have enough food and the temperature isn’t warm enough, the plants get weak and don’t really do anything.

“Last summer was quite poor,” said Penny “which meant there was less light and the glasshouse didn’t get as hot. We noticed that the quality of the rhizomes has gone down this year. I record the quality of the rhizomes when I pot them up and we’ve had some really strong rhizomes in the past. But this year, they don’t seem to have done anything – it’s as though they reached a growth plateau.”

Trays of lotus rhizomes. The tray on the left hasn’t had
the old material removed yet, but the one on the right has
been cleaned and is ready to be potted up.

Placing lotus by the poolside

After the lotus have been potted up into clean pots with all new soil, Penny will write new labels and bring them into the tropical house. The pots then stand in trays of water along the side of the pool. This keeps the soil constantly wetted and after about a week of being in 25oC temperatures, the plants come into growth.

Once the leaves are 3-4” high and there are enough of them that Penny knows the rhizomes are growing, she raises the water level of the pool and moves the pots down onto a lower edge along the pool. This keeps the pots submersed in the warmest upper layer of water.
For the final phase, the pots are moved into the main pool where they sit on top of a stack of mesh trays. The water level is raised again so that it covers the top of the pots, but this has to be timed as well with the growth of the giant water lilies (Victoria) that occupy the large planters in the pond.

“Then that’s it for spring and summer,” said Penny “and I have to just cross my fingers that they do their stuff and produce beautiful flowers.”

The many uses of lotus

The rhizomes of lotus are rich in sugar and starches and contain up to 2% protein. They are sliced and roasted, dried or pickled. For medicinal purposes the rhizome is made into a juice or steeped in a tea and taken topically or ingested to stop bleeding.
The disc-shaped leaves and stems are eaten raw or used to wrap other foods, such as rice, for cooking. Medicinally they are taken to clear fever.

The flower has many uses. The outer covering of the flower – the calyx – is used in medicine. The petals of the flower are eaten and the male stamens are used to flavour tea and also contain the fragrant essential oil, which is extremely coveted. Lotus oil is three times more expensive than gold weight for weight. The receptacle, which houses the female parts of the flower and eventually the seeds, is aged and used for medicinal purposes.

The young green seeds have up to 16% protein content and are considered quite a delicacy. They can also be ground into flour to make bread or used medicinally to stop incontinence and digestive problems. The green shoots from the seed – known as the plumule – can also be removed and used for medical purposes.

There’s a lot in a name

When you visit the lotus display in the tropical glasshouse, you will notice that each of the labels has a series of names. At the top is the latin name (e.g., Nelumbo nucifera), then beneath that is the Chinese name (e.g., Xiao Foushou) and the translation (e.g., Small Buddha’s hand). Finally, along the bottom of the label is a description of the flower type (e.g., pink cup lotus). Chinese lotus flowers range from pink to white and some are cream or with a hint of green, but there are no yellow flowers in the Chinese lotus species. Yellow flowered cultivars, originate from the American lotus lineage.

The Botanic Garden has recently ordered some new cultivars from China to expand their lotus collection, including a yellow-flowered cultivar of the American lotus.
Date holder: Mark the 19th of May in your calendars as the Botanic Garden will be hosting a Fascination of Plants Day event. 

An update on Victoria!

Posted on by andy.winfield

So much can change within a week at the Botanic Garden it can make your head spin. When I spoke to Penny about the giant water lily, she informed me that she wasn’t going to be trying to germinate Victoria seeds yet as they didn’t have the facilities. However, within a week, that has all changed. Penny received some seeds from Oxford and is currently putting together the pot and water heater she will need to keep the seeds at a balmy 30oC to germinate. Along with that, the Paignton Zoo has managed to overwinter a small plant, which is a Victoria Longwood hybrid that they are giving to the Botanic Garden along with some young germinated Victoria cruziana. Suddenly, Penny has gone from having no seeds to having seeds, young plants and old plants…it’s lily overload!