Indianapolis Museum of Art Blog

I just realized the date for this blog is 08-08-08. Three 8’s. Eight is one of my favorite numbers. If I could skate it would be great if I could make a figure eight. When I doodle I often make eights. You really needed to know all that didn’t you?

I recently attended the annual Perennial Plant Association Symposium held this year in Philadelphia. The first PPA Symposium I attended 14 years ago was in Philadelphia. And 17 years ago I did a one year internship in Philadelphia at the Morris Arboretum. My advisor at Purdue, Dr. Harrison Flint, said everyone in horticulture should spend some time in the Delaware Valley and since there were no job prospects it was a no-brainer as the young kids say. This is an area rich in horticultural history and filled with public gardens anyone even mildly interested in gardening should visit. Just as importantly, the profession of horticulture is respected in a way still not found in the Midwest. Of course, they have one or two hundred years on us. So it may take a few more months for us to catch up.

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…Perennial Treasures from the Gardens of the Indianapolis Museum of Art.

Picture this. Ancient Egypt. Cleopatra’s palace gardens.

“Mark Antony, did you tell the slaves to weed the iris bed?”

“No dear. I thought you were doing that with the gardener.”

“Really Mark Antony, you do amaze me. Do you not remember I had the gardener executed last month for using up all of my eye liner? If you didn’t tell the slaves to weed then what happened to my special iris?”

“What do you mean Cleopatra?”

“I mean my Siberian irises are gone.”

“Which ones were they?”

“You know fully well which ones they were. My Iris sibirica ‘Caesar’s Brother’. Your petty jealous heart just couldn’t bear I would be taking them with me when I die.”

“Alright Cleopatra! Alright. It’s true. I ripped them from the ground. Just like I have tried to rip that Caesar from your heart.”

“Nice try Mark Antony. But like my love for Caesar, the iris cannot be killed by a mere human. Both will be with me in the great beyond.”

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As many people already know, I am not a card carrying member of the We Should Only Plant Natives Club. They are fine and all that but I feel no great need to adhere to such a restrictive policy. I do incorporate natives in my designs. We’ve used many natives and their cultivars in multiple areas in the gardens created after our expansion. Carex radiata can be found in the Overlook garden behind Deer Zink (along with Amelanchier), multiple cultivars of redbud are in the Garden for Everyone (along with the straight species – I guess the others would be the gay, lesbian, bi, and transgendered species?), and Echinacea is everywhere (along with Amsonia hubrictii – Arkansas bluestar).

There most certainly is a place for natives. I did a design recently for a neighborhood park and included them in it. They definitely cross my mind when I know there will be extreme cultivation issues such as sunny and dry, shady and dry, wet and anything, or most importantly, minimal maintenance after establishment. Of course if there is a non-native available that is just as tough and prettier I have no problem going with it. Pretty always wins. Remember high school? I attempt to follow the “right plant, right place” mantra ignoring the individual plant’s origin. I want plants from everywhere and damn near every plant no matter where it’s from. As Divine said in Pink Flamingos “Get it all cracker. Get it all”.

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It’s Friday the 13th. Oooooooooo. I’m so scared. If you want a history of why this day is considered bad go here. If you want to know why I don’t buy into the theory stay here. Black cat, you want to cross my path? Go right ahead. When you get to the other side I’ll give you a bowl of Friskees (Frisky!). I might even change your litter box. Ladder up ahead, I will walk right under you. Crack in the side walk, I will step on you. Then patch you so a stiletto heel won’t get mangled (To quote Karen from Will and Grace, “Kill one piece and the whole ensemble dies!”).

Personally I don’t think a date on the calendar brings bad luck. Frequently what appears to be bad luck is actually the result of bad judgment. When I rear ended the car in front of me many years ago it wasn’t bad luck. It was stupidity. Why did I take my foot off the brake at a red light? Maybe I was distracted by the Scotsman in the other bucket seat. When I don’t have a presentation ready and I have an article due and a blog to write - all on the same day, it isn’t bad luck. It’s procrastination (I almost said procastration. Entirely different. And as a general rule I am not but sometimes…..) We make much of our bad luck in my opinion. So on this day that is rife with superstition I’m looking at why this is a GOOD day.

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Well now. Who hasn’t screamed those words? Maybe at a parent that wouldn’t let you go out Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night?

“There’s nothing I could do Sunday night that I couldn’t have done Friday night and twice Saturday night. You’re ruining my life. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Door slams.

Or maybe at a brother or sister that never brought the car back by 2 like they promised so you could go to the big away game. The bus left at 2:15 and they brought the car back at 2:45.

“You knew I needed the car by 2. You stayed late at Kathy’s just so I would miss the bus. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Door slams.

Or maybe at someone you spent 18 months dating thinking all was going well until one day instead of “I love” you it’s “I do love you, in my own way.”

“In your own way? What the hell is that supposed to mean? In your own way?! I gave up a spot on ‘So You Think I You Can Dance’ because you couldn’t stand to be apart. Why don’t you go love the grill of a big red truck in your own way? I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Door slams. Hopefully on his snotty-assed nose.

Enough about people. What about plants? Read the rest of this entry »