Alice Eastwood’s Wonderland: The Adventures of a Botanist

Alice Eastwood (1859-1953) had a challenging childhood. Born in Toronto, her mother died when she was only 6, admonishing Alice from her deathbed to look after two younger siblings. Her father struggled to have a viable career and keep the family together. At times, Eastwood was forced to stay with relatives or at a boarding school. It wasn’t until many years later the family reunited in Denver.

Despite these hardships, Eastwood was fortunate to have mentoring by different individuals who fostered her great love of plants. Exploring the native flora in the mountains of Colorado deepened that passion. Her story is told in a delightful, memoir-style book from 1955, “Alice Eastwood’s Wonderland: The Adventures of a Botanist,” by Carol Green Wilson (1892-1981).

In her early 30s, Eastwood traveled to California and met two other influential women of plants. The first was horticulturist Kate Sessions (1857-1940) in San Diego. Wilson describes their friendship, which lasted for fifty years, as one that “often drew Alice Eastwood from the cloisters of pure science to the practical field of horticulture.”

Continuing her journey to San Francisco, Eastwood intentionally visited the California Academy of Sciences to meet Katherine Brandegee (1844-1920) and her husband, Townshend Stith (T.S.) Brandegee (1843-1925). Their friendship was cemented by joint botanical excursions around the Bay Area.

The Brandegees eventually convinced Eastwood to become the joint curator of the botanical collection at the Academy. It was not easy to lure Eastwood away from her beloved Rockies, but the salary of $75/month, all of Katherine’s income, sealed the deal. Within two years, the Brandegees retired, leaving Eastwood as sole curator and head of botany for the Academy, a position she held until her own retirement over fifty years later.

While regarded as one of the supreme botanists in California’s history, Eastwood is probably most famous for her rescue efforts of the Academy’s herbarium collections threatened by the fires that followed the 1906 earthquake. Well before that fateful day, she had anticipated the dangers of fire and housed the most valuable herbarium specimens in an easily-accessible case. This allowed her, with the help of one chance volunteer, to lower nearly 1,500 collection items six stories using rope, strings, and her work apron! She continued her efforts to save Academy collections over the following days, even while losing her own home to the fires.

Excerpted from Brian Thompson’s the Winter 2023 issue of the Arboretum Bulletin

Becoming a Gardener

First off, this book is a feast for the eyes. Big glossy photographs of Marron’s garden are combined with charming gouaches from the Copenhagen collective studio All the Way to Paris, plus an array of painting reproductions ranging from Beatrix Potter to Cy Twombly. The visual experience is rich.

Marron, with a background of success in business and journalism, assigned herself the task of learning to garden in eighteen months. She and her husband had bought a house in Connecticut, but she needed to put down literal as well as figurative roots to feel she belonged to this land. This book is an account of that journey.

An impressive amount of gardening research preceded and intertwined with the development of the garden itself. Marron includes memories of gardens in children’s books like “The Secret Garden” and the visit to the Luxembourg Garden in “Madeline.” As she read classic gardening books, she learned there are many kinds of gardeners, and they all have strong opinions, often differing with each other. From Alexander Pope’s idea of a “spirit of the place” she learned that she wanted her garden to echo its own surroundings. And after reading about famed gardens and recalling those she had visited, she realized she had to build something smaller and simpler than any of them.

In her learning process, Marron watched carefully to see how even cut flowers changed over a few days. She put aside her conviction that she did not have a green thumb and sought out hands-on mentors, who taught her what to do and that persistence and hard work can lead to gardening success for anyone. With a landscape architect she developed a plan and turned a 48 x 54-foot space into a walled garden.

One notable discovery from her research was that gardeners make mistakes, learn to accept them, and start over. She describes several of those she made, seeing them as part of the learning process.

In the section on “Building My Garden” Marron describes working to create a garden that fit her goal of relative simplicity and comfort in its surroundings. She struggled with fencing, replacing one design that turned out to look like “a corral fence from the Wild West” with a more pleasing one. She developed a layout with rectangular beds and wide paths. She spent many hours choosing flowers and vegetables and then deciding where to plant them. She considered color and scent, even choosing to paint cold frames “a happy yellow” and the door frames of the garage bay “bright grass green,” the same green Monet used for his own door and window frames.

In the middle of the project Marron’s husband died. Grieving, she came to learn how digging in the dirt can help heal pain. She describes five kinds of gardeners: “scene setters, plantspeople, colorists, collectors, and dirt gardeners” (p. 78). Dirt gardening was her choice. As she returned to dig in the garden after her loss, she felt connected to soil and roots.

At the back of the book Marron includes a list of “Literary Mentors in the Garden,” with a paragraph about each. A page of “Recommended Reading and Viewing” and a very thorough bibliography provide further research opportunities for those who aspire to the title of “gardener.” For herself, Marron still considers herself an “urban dweller,” but she attests to the power of her gardening project to make a major difference in her life.

Reviewed by Priscilla Grundy for The Leaflet, Volume 9, Issue 12 (December 2022).

The Perfect Specimen: The 20th Century Renown Botanist Ynés Mexἰa

Ynés Mexἰa (1870-1938) didn’t discover her career passion until later in life. The daughter of a Mexican diplomat father and an American mother, her childhood was difficult with her parent’s divorce and several moves throughout the eastern United States. She spent her 20s and 30s in Mexico living through two marriages, moving to San Francisco in her 40s, where she required years of medical care to recover following a mental and physical breakdown.

As part of her treatment, her doctor encouraged getting involved in hobbies. She discovered the Sierra Club, and eventually enrolled, at age 51, at the University of California, Berkeley. While not seeking a degree, she took courses on botany, including classes through the California Academy of Science where she met Alice Eastwood. Together, they joined on field botany trips into the mountains of California.

While this became a valuable collaboration, Mexἰa discovered that she most enjoyed exploring alone. Over a 13-year career that followed, she took many long trips to Mexico, throughout South America, and briefly to Alaska, collecting plants to press and later sell to many of the outstanding herbarium collections in the United States. The details of these travel are chronicled in the “The Perfect Specimen” by Durlynn Anema.

Mexἰa’s career, cut short by her death from cancer, was extremely productive, adding about 150,000 new specimens to American botany, including several new species. She was not bothered by rough conditions, and her knowledge of Spanish language and culture, and her ease in interactions with indigenous people, allowed her to explore remote areas for new plants.

Excerpted from Brian Thompson’s article in the Winter 2023 issue of the Arboretum Bulletin

The Wild Garden: Expanded Edition

Winter is a great time to read the classics of horticultural literature. Gardeners from decades or even centuries ago still have many lessons to share with us. One I recommend is “The Wild Garden” by William Robinson (1838-1935).

Born in Ireland, Robinson moved to England in his early 20s and stayed, eventually owning Gravetye Manor in Sussex where he practice his craft of gardening for nearly 50 years. He was a prolific writer, publishing several books, and founding an influential journal simply titled “The Garden.” He established many friendships with noted plants people in both Europe and North America.

“The Wild Garden” was first published in 1870. The Miller Library has a copy and unlike many other old books, it is not impressive. It is small, without illustrations, but the writing is inspired, taking direct aim opposing the practice of using large expanses of annuals in formal plantings, a practice that began earlier in that century.

Instead, Robinson extols the virtues of a garden filled with perennial plants, both woody and herbaceous. Planting in grass, or in other informal areas was encouraged. While this is widely accepted today, this book caused considerable controversy when first published.

“My object in the Wild Garden is now to show how we may have more of the varied beauty of hardy flowers than the most ardent admirer of the old style of garden ever dreams of, by naturalizing many beautiful plants of many regions of the earth.”

Beginning with the second edition, “The Wild Garden” was illustrated by the noted garden painter and designer Alfred Parsons (1847-1920), who was also a friend of Robinson and may have influenced the garden designs at Gravetye. New editions continued well into the 20^th century.

“The Wild Garden: Expanded Edition” (2009) reproduces the sumptuous 1895 fifth edition, with extra features, including an appendix updating plant nomenclature. Additional chapters are written by Rick Darke, a noted author and advocate for the conservation of old landscapes. His writing, and photographs of the revived Gravetye, are an excellent addition to this classic book.

Reviewed by Brian Thompson for Garden Notes: Northwest Horticultural Society, Winter 2023

The Wild Garden

“The Wild Garden” (1994) reproduces the sumptuous 1895 fifth edition, includes an insightful introduction by landscape architect and historian Judith Tankard. Peter Herbert, who wrote the foreword, revived the gardens at Gravetye and describes the many plants survived the years of neglect following Robinson’s death. Noted 20^th century gardener and author Graham Stuart Thomas updated the plant nomenclature.

Reviewed by Brian Thompson for Garden Notes: Northwest Horticultural Society, Winter 2023

Saunders’ Field Guide to Gladioli of South Africa

The stiff spikes of gladioli are a mainstay for florists and favored by home gardeners for the hundreds of named cultivars in almost every color. Lesser known is the large genus of Gladiolus in the Iridaceae family with about 300 species, thriving in a wide range of environmental settings.

While there are a handful of Eurasian species near the Mediterranean, and others that can be found in tropical Africa, the concentration of this genus is in South Africa. An extensive (almost 400 pages) new field guide, Saunders’ Field Guide to Gladioli of South Africa is remarkable in being focused on this single genus.

While a few of these species are of horticultural interest and will grow with care in our climate, I think the main attraction of this book is the breadth of variety in a flower that is very commonplace in horticulture, but otherwise not well known. For example, I am struck by how many of the species are scented, a trait unknown in cultivated glads.

The authors, Rod and Rachel Saunders, were killed near the end of their efforts to photograph all the native species of their country in flower, leaving Fiona Ross to complete the book with the help of many others. While a must for a botanically inclined visitor to South Africa, this field guide is fascinating just for its level of detail and the diverse beauty of its subjects.

An example is G. cardinalis that grows in the province of Western Cape. “The plants flower in midsummer, the driest time of the year. The corms are wedged into cracks in the rocks where they are protected. Corms and roots must be constantly wet, and have been found in very fast-flowing river…often found flowering together with Disa uniflora, an orchid of a similar colour; the two species share the same pollinator.”

Eight different photos accompany this description, showing the bright red flowers cascading off of a wet cliff wall. Surprisingly, a regional nursery carries this species, having found it to be hardy and amenable to garden culture. I’m eager to give it a try.

Reviewed by Brian Thompson for the Leaflet for Scholars, Volume 9, Issue 11 (November 2022).

Agaves: Species, Cultivars & Hybrids

When I visit desert gardens in conservatories, or in captivating places such as the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix, I’m always drawn to the agaves. My favorite is Agave victoriae-reginae, a native of the Chihuahua Desert of Mexico that enchanted me the first time I visited my parents when they lived in Arizona. The precise white lines on the leaves look as though they were applied with a fine paintbrush.

On subsequent visits, I learned there are many other agaves with fascinating foliage patterns, forms, and textures. I also glimpsed the infrequent towering inflorescences; one final performance before the central plant dies, although often with offsets ready to carry on.

Agaves: Species, Cultivars & Hybrids is a new book in the Miller Library by Southern California authors Jeremy Spath and Jeff Moore. There are other books that discuss the botanical aspects of the genus, or uses by humans (tequila, anyone?) and animals. This instead is a horticultural review of the many forms emphasizing their aesthetic and cultural traits, beautifully illustrated in both nature and cultivation. Before you dismiss the possibility of growing these in Seattle, because it’s too cold, and especially too wet in the winter – think again.

Although primarily native to Mexico, several species are from high altitudes and with proper siting and protection from being waterlogged can make spectacular garden or container subjects in our area. An example is the story of Monte, an Agave montana plant growing in Portland, as told in an essay and photographed in the book by its owner, Lance Wright.

This species is from the eastern Sierra Madre Mountains in southern Chihuahua, where it receives significant rainfall, which may explain its ability to survive for 18 years in the ground in the Pacific Northwest. Like all in its genus, Monte gave one final farewell performance by blooming, but what a performance!

The first emergence of a bloom stalk was in late September, eventually reaching a flowering height of 15 feet the following spring. “The City came out on May 9 to do traffic control as crowds were standing in the street slowing traffic to take pictures.” If you want a media star in your garden, this is your plant!

Reviewed by Brian Thompson for The Leaflet, Volume 9, Issue 11 (November 2022).

Swamplands: Tundra Beavers, Quaking Bogs, and the Improbable World of Peat

This very well written book, brimming with lively anecdotes and clearly explained information, has a somewhat misleading title. The subtitle finally reveals the main focus: “The Improbable World of Peat.”

Each chapter recounts a visit Struzik took to a different peatland. His descriptions of nature are winsome. His background histories are equally appealing. The chapter on the Great Dismal Swamp in Virginia and North Carolina gives insights on American history, including Pocahontas and John Smith, as well as material on the Underground Railroad.

The themes throughout are: the huge original extent of peatlands in the world; their importance in maintaining water quality and healthy landscapes; the drainage and destruction of much of the peat; and recent efforts to slow further destruction and begin restoration.

“Peat is partially decomposed plant material that builds up over decades, centuries, and millennia in oxygen-starved, waterlogged conditions where decay can’t keep up with growth” (p. 3.) Most peatlands feature mosses, particularly sphagnum mosses, which can cover water and (usually) support the weight of humans and animals. An 1869 Canadian settler called sphagnum fens and bogs “’not to be trusted to walk on’” because “’a moderate sized river loses itself under the deceitful turf’” (p.4). Swamplands have had a bad reputation.

In his chapter on New York City’s Central Park, Struzik moves from Frederick Olmsted’s drainage of wetlands preliminary to creating the park to the long history of drainage in Europe and America. Much of the world’s motivation was to increase cropland. But swamps were, until embarrassingly recently, blamed for their miasma, or bad air, believed to cause illness and death.

Disastrous extinction of species has resulted from all the drainage. Struzik takes us along on a search for a rare wetland moth in the Wagner Fen in Canada. In a detour to discuss other rare moths, he proves his literary chops with this description of a luna moth: “The lime-green gossamer wings are bound by pink-purple seams that give a fairy-like appearance. The tiny Playboy-bunny antennae and the two big Picasso-like eyes, offer, along with sexy-smelling pheromones, an irresistible package” (p. 140).

Many efforts at peat restoration have achieved only moderate or even negative results. One positive story involves beavers. After beavers were successfully reintroduced to degraded peatlands in Scotland, they restored wetlands better than humans could. In the U.S. during World War II, the Interior Department dealt with problem beavers in Idaho by moving them to remote areas to help maintain wetlands. Transportation was difficult. When sending the rodents by mule failed because “it became clear that mules and beavers didn’t get along,” the department dropped the beavers in by parachute. It worked, and the wetlands were improved.

Struzik concludes with an upbeat message on the gains that can be made to return peatlands to their necessary place in the ecosystem and in our cultural history.

Reviewed by Priscilla Grundy for the Leaflet, Volume 9, Issue 10, October 2022

Plants on the Move

With its stylized but clearly recognizable illustrations, Plants on the Move introduces readers of all ages to the various ways plants travel and multiply. It is divided into sections by type of movement: plants that creep or explode of their own accord, and those that move with the aid of wind, water, or the help of mammals, birds, and ants, including those that carry, drop, or ingest their fruits and leave the seeds behind. Humans also help distribute plants, both inadvertently and intentionally.

Especially entertaining are the cutaway diagrams of the digestive tracts of a blackbird and a mouse, mapping the journey of a berry from one end to the other. The charming illustrations do an excellent job of representing traits of some plants that are prolific spreaders if not downright invasive: note the bursting seedy artillery of impatiens and violets (which also have reaching stolons), the hooked fruits of burdock, the creeping tendencies of buttercup, and the tunneling habits of lily of the valley.

The section on cultivated plants explains the role of anthropochory (plant movement generated by human intervention), and lists many plants that now exist worldwide because we saved seeds, transported, and planted them. There is a short list of other scientific terms (all ending in –chory) which are so effectively illustrated throughout the book.

Of Leaf and Flower: Stories and Poems for Gardeners

Clyde Wachsberger became an avid gardener in his mid-30s after acquiring a small house and property at the eastern tip of Long Island, New York. While the garden was his passion, it was a lonely pursuit and he longed to share it with someone. However, his efforts to find a relationship with another man, “a friend who shared my deepest yearning to be someone special for someone special,” were not successful.

Some years later, and by a remarkable chance with a misplaced personal ad, he connected with Charles Dean, a maître d’hôtel at a high end Manhattan restaurant. Sparked by their mutual interests and attraction, they quickly established a relationship, much of it built around the same home and garden they now shared named Adworthy House, celebrating their meeting.

They were great experimenters and always eager to try new plants, pushing the limits of their climate zone and indulging in romantic fantasies of tropical flora. Winter reading of nursery catalogs was a special fascination. Together they edited an anthology entitled “Of Leaf and Flower: Stories and Poems for Gardeners (2001), in part to “explain the profound passions and wild obsessions that motivate gardeners.”

Sadly, Dean and Wachsberger’s time together was limited to about 15 years. Wachsberger developed cancer, but before it took his life, he wrote and illustrated a heartfelt memoir, “Into the Garden with Charles” (2012). While the author did not minimize the story of his disease, his writing focuses on the strength he found in both the garden and his loved ones.

While the after story is sad, this is an upbeat book about the joy of optimism found in a love of plants, and in the often whacky stories of family, close friends, and a faithful, fuzzy mop of a dog. The plants are pets, too, often with personal names and always cherished, until they try to smother or overrun everything else. Gardeners everywhere will understand.

Reviewed by Brian Thompson in the Fall 2022 issue of the Arboretum Bulletin