carolina wren + franklinia
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carolina wren + franklinia
dreamy • Franklinia tree • #goldenhour #goldenhourlight #njbotanicalgardens #ringwoodstatepark #franklinia • #vscocam https://www.instagram.com/p/CD-gUOPlr4N/?igshid=1mk3mrz42j3or
Custom engraved spinner ring from InfiniteJewelryCA. I regret nothing.
Plant of the Day
Tuesday 10 October 2017
This rare deciduous small tree or large shrub, Franklinia alatamaha (Franklin tree) can sadly no longer be found in the wild. It is the only species in this (monotypic) genus with dark green, glossy leaves that turn bright crimson in the autumn while the fragrant white flowers appear. It has been described as “challenging to grow” needing a rich, moist, well-drained soil in full sun to part shade and disliking root disturbance or drought once established. This beautiful plant was flowering at the Royal Horticultural Society Garden Wisley, Surrey, UK, where I was fortunate to be meeting the new group of Master of Horticulture (MHort) students and the second years.
Jill Raggett
Sign up for my Bird of the Month club before the end of December to get these wrens in the mail in January~ 🤍
Just another remind why I added this tree to the garden: Frankinkia Altamaha. How many other trees are still blooming with camellia-like blossoms as the foliage turns from green to flaming orange to burgundy? #tree #trees #franklinia
Excerpt from this story (book review) from Inside Climate News:
In a quiet corner of the oldest botanic garden in North America grows a tree with long, graceful branches and leaves that curl like rust-colored tongues. When it’s blooming, the tree’s snow-white flowers are said to smell like honeysuckle, but at the end of November, its branches are bare, and its leaves are mostly heaped on the ground, a browning pile on the edge of the lawn.
Though it looks unassuming in winter, the tree has a prominent place on the maps of the garden where it’s cared for, Bartram’s Garden, on a stretch of land in Philadelphia hemmed in by the city on three sides and the Schuylkill River on the fourth. At the base of the trunk sits a placard with its name: Franklinia alatamaha, a species of tea tree that has been extinct in the sandy southern swamplands it came from for more than a century.
The elusive Franklinia appears in the writer Annie Proulx’s new book “Fen, Bog & Swamp,” one more unique treasure in a litany of treasures that Proulx uncovers in the world’s wetlands, past and present. Proulx writes about the father and son botanists John and William Bartram, who found a grove of Franklinia growing along the banks of the Altamaha River in Georgia in 1765.
The Bartrams named the tree for Benjamin Franklin and carried its seeds back to Pennsylvania, where they cultivated the plant. All of the Franklinia trees that still exist are believed to be descendants of those original seeds; in a way, the Franklinia trees in Bartram’s Garden are wetland refugees, transplanted from their shrinking, warming natural habitat to the North, where curator Joel Fry told me the caretakers mimic the Altamaha’s acidic soil by spreading pine needles around the roots.
In William Bartram’s 18th-century work, which detailed his travels through the swamps and forests of the American Southeast, Proulx writes that we can experience “a wild tropical south we can know only through his words and drawings.”
Proulx’s project is not so different from Bartram’s. In our age of escalating environmental crises, she is driven to document the disappeared and the disappearing, all the threatened remnants of our precious wetlands, from ancient English fens to Ohio’s now-drained Great Black Swamp. It’s a mission that has never been more urgent: The 2018 Global Wetland Outlook announced that wetlands are “disappearing three times faster than forests” and that 35 percent of the world’s wetlands were destroyed between 1970 and 2015.