Mauna Kea and Hawaiian Blueberry

One of the places I absolutely *had* to visit when I was on the Big Island was Mauna Kea, Hawaii's tallest mountain, reaching a height of 13,900' above sea level. Technically, it's the world's biggest mountain, measuring 30,000' from the base, which is at the bottom of the sea, to the tip.


It's also the site of the world's largest astronomical observatory, with 13 telescopes representing 11 different countries. The air in this microclimate is the some of the driest on earth, second only to Antarctica. This, in addition to the absence of cloud cover and light pollution, makes for excellent astronomical viewing conditions.



Warned that going to the summit individually is quite difficult (you definitely need four-wheel drive) and reluctant to bring a bunch of winter gear with me from the mainland (it's a chilly 32° at the summit) I signed up for a tour with Mauna Kea Summit Adventures. The tour picked me up at 4pm, and along with about 12 other people, we had a picnic dinner at the visitors center (elevation 9000') before going to the summit for sunset.


After the sunset, we descended back to 9000' for some stargazing. I saw Saturn and its rings, the Omega Centauri, constellations Sagittarius, Virgo and Leo, as well as the beautiful binary star, Albireo. We also learned a fair amount about night viewing and general astronomy. It was an excellent tour and quite educational. By the time I got back to the hotel, nearing midnight, I was more than a little awestruck by how truly insignificant we are and by the incomprehensible age of the galaxies. (Light years, as a concept, always trips me up. The Omega Centauri is around 15,000 light years away. I see it, but because of its distance, it may not really be there anymore. Only in 15,000 years could someone know if it existed in 2010. Discussing this brain-bending concept with the tour guide, he quipped, 'I think that's why insanity is more common among quantum physicists and astronomers.' ...I can't verify that, but can imagine that the sense of profound insignificance, combined with the fact that - in such a profession - you ask questions that can never be truly answered, may be a bit maddening at times.)


I suppose that's why I prefer plants. There aren't a lot in this biome, but there were enough. I saw the plant below when we stopped for a photo-op at around 11,000'. Does it look familiar to any east coasters?


Those bell-shaped flowers are a clue, perhaps. Also maybe the reddish hue to the foliage...But who am I kidding, you read the post title so you know it's a blueberry, or Vaccinium reticulatum. In Hawaii the plant is commonly called the 'ohelo. There are two species of Vaccinium in Hawaii, and both have some subspecies, too, varying slightly among the different Hawaiian islands. V. reticulatum is found in open woodlands and high elevations, while V. calycinum is found in wet, wooded areas.


The plant's berries, like our more local V. corymbosum, V. caesariense, or V. angustifolium, make wonderful jams or jellies or can be eaten fresh. They can be picked by visitors and locals but the maximum takeaway is 1 quart when picking in parkland. That's because the plant provides habitat and food to two endemic moths as well as the endangered nene, or Hawaiian goose.

Cibotium glaucum

On Monday I mentioned the tree ferns that populate the forests near the active volcano at Volcanoes National Park. Today, we'll take a closer look at the Hawaiian tree fern, or Cibotium glaucum, or hapu'u.


As you can see from the photo above, Cibotium can reach heights up to 8 meters. I encountered this forest - the upper canopy consisting of ohi'a and the understory of hapu'u - while walking to the Thurston Lava Tube in the park. The scale of these beautiful plants is awesome, in the truest sense of the word.


The fronds have a pure, clear green color, with small leaflets. The plant can be propagated by spores - the ones on the youngest fronds are usually most fertile.



The fiddleheads are actually the size of real fiddle or violin heads. Much like other ferns, frying or boiling the heads is part of the local cuisine.


The plants' trunk can be edible as well, but is not very tasty. I read on one site that the trunk is considered "famine food."



In addition to the edible parts of the plant, the shaggy base of the trunk - or the pulu - has been used as a soft filling for pillows and mattresses. This use reached a peak in the mid 19th century and large swaths of tree fern forests were almost irreparably degraded. Much like I mentioned Monday in regards to Metrosideros, these forests are now more carefully managed.

Metrosideros polymorpha (and Volcanoes!)

Well, I got back from Hawaii on Saturday and am now squarely within my last days as a full time New Yorker. I'll most likely work Monday - Wednesday for the next three weeks then finish up at my job (save a few hourly tasks to wrap up my Hawaii project).

Hawaii was wonderful, and thank goodness I scheduled three days on the Big Island. Otherwise, I'm afraid I would have spent far too much time "on call" for work, even if I officially had the day off. I highly HIGHLY (HIGHLY!) recommend the Big Island to any Hawaii-bound individual that is even a casual naturalist. The variety of ecosystems and the rugged beauty of this - the youngest of the Hawaiian islands - place is stunning.

I flew into Kona last Monday morning and immediately set off for Volcanoes National Park. "Why, it's only 90 miles!" I thought to myself, "I'll be there well within 2 hours."



Not so much. The winding roads through the big island - and their ever-changing elevations - definitely slows down the works and driving 90 miles really requires at least 2.5 hours of driving. Of course, as soon as I got to Volcanoes National Park and saw the Kīlauea Crater spewing sulfurous fumes, all that driving was worth it.


Large parts of the park were closed on my recent visit, since the volcano has been acting a bit differently lately. A few weeks ago it began spewing lava in a new location and as a result, the gases have been considered too dangerous to inhale in certain areas. If I had stayed 'til dark, I would have been able to see the red glow of lava further along the edges of the park (at the crater itself it primarily flows underground), but I wasn't up for a long, winding drive at night.



Now then. Let's get to the plants. It's pretty amazing to see a shrub with such a lovely flower on it blooming with an active volcano so nearby. This plant is Metrosideros polymorpha or ōhiʻa lehua. If it looks familiar, you could (maybe, possibly) remember a post I wrote that had some shots of Callistemon citrinus. These plants are both in the Myrtaceae or myrtle family and their flowers (with diminutive petals and brightly-colored, showy stamens) are quite similar.



This species of Metrosideros is endemic to Hawaii, meaning that it can only be found in the Hawaiian islands. Though it does have relatives in New Zealand that are quite similar. The species itself is highly variable and over the years varieties of Metrosideros polymorpha have been further categorized into new species, all equally endemic to Hawaii. Some of the variations we find among the Hawaiian species include the hairiness of the leaves (hairier in drier climates, as the hairs trap ambient moisture) and the color of the leaves (changing from green to greenish-gray to gray).


The species itself is highly adaptable. It can maintain itself as a small shrub or tower to 20+ meters. The incredibly light seeds can blow for miles in the wind and this is partly why the plant is often the first colonizer of post-volcanic, lava-laden landscapes. As it colonizes a lava field, it begins to degrade the rock into soil and provides perching locations for birds. Ultimately, the landscape succeeds into a fern forest, as can be found just a mile away from the Kīlauea crater itself (more on the ferns this week).




I was all too excited to pick up a book at the Volcanoes National Park visitor's center - Hawaii's Plants and Animals: Biological Sketches of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park - and it's a terrific read so far. When I was reading about Metrosideros the authors noted a curious phenomena with this plant: at times, massive swaths of ōhiʻa will die out. When biologists at the park first documented this, they immediately investigated whether a foreign pest or disease was the cause of such dieback, but no culprit was found. Instead, they can only determine that a heavy rain or drought can trigger this mass death. It seems to be part of the evolutionary hardwiring of the plant. Today that is problematic because, given the pervasiveness of the alien plant Pennisetum, the former ōhiʻa forests can be quickly invaded by this weed and prohibit young ōhiʻa to take root. Forecasting ōhiʻa dieback and managing the re-population of young ōhiʻa is a chief concern for land managers on the big island today.

Monkey Pod Tree

I mentioned Albizia saman in last week's post about Asplenium and then promised to comment more on this lovely tree in the future. Well, that time is now.


First of all, what a beauty, eh? I am *in love* with the elegant, almost overreaching canopy. The form is so striking and, as common as this tree is in Oahu, I think I will always equate monkey pod tree with my wanderings on this trip.



Not that Albizia saman is native to the Hawaiian islands, it's instead native to Central and South America, distributed between Mexico and Brazil. Indeed, due to the region's geologic history, Hawaii is fairly sparse in terms of native plants. More often that not, the plants that are most popular here are native to other areas and were planted by colonists or passers-through. (Somewhat relevant to this information, in last week's post about breadfruit my friend Matthew asked if Artocarpus was endemic to Hawaii and it's not. It's native to the Malay peninsula and the surrounding islands.)



Here above is another shot of the tree pictured at the top of this post. You can gauge from the Monstera leaves below how big this trunk is. I'd say its diameter was probably around 9-10'. A woman at the Waimea Botanical Garden says the arborists speculate this specimen is over 200 years old. In that case it is quite like the "Samán de Güere" a Venezuelan national treasure and landmark. That specimen was originally recorded by Alexander von Humboldt, a German naturalist and one of the founders of biogeography, in his trip to South America between 1799 and 1804. You can see an old print of this Venezuelan icon here. Unfortunately, there's scant information about this tree online, in English (and my Spanish is pretty shoddy these days).



I know I'm quite smitten with a new species when I have a ton of photos of the feature I like so much (in this case, the branching habit) and one cursory shot of another key characteristic (in this case, the leaves). In fact, I was relieved to find I had even one picture of the species' pinnately compound leaves. Knowing that the leaves are pinnately compound, you could hazard a guess that Albizia is a member of the pea or legume family, and you'd be right. Technically these days, you'd say it is a member of the Fabaceae family, though Leguminosae is still commonly used and considered acceptable. In either case, Fabaceae trees have similar leaves and pea-pod like fruits. Other species of this family which we have previously discussed are Gleditsia, Robinia, Sophora, Lupinus, Cercis and Cladrastis.



Finally, on a very unscientific note, every time I look at this photo, I can hear Meryl Streep saying in her Danish accent "I had a farm in Africa." Indeed, monkey pod tree is related to Albizia amara, a tree that is found in the dry scrublands between Sudan and South Africa.

Artocarpus atilis

Here in Waimea Valley Botanical Garden, we now visit the breadfruit tree, or Artocarpus atilis. I saw this tree elsewhere in Honolulu and was always struck by the huge feathery leaves. With such big leaves (check out the bottom pic, my foot's about 8" long so the leaf must be close to 20") you'd expect a coarser texture in the canopy but the deep narrow leaf sinuses soften the whole look.


Sadly, this member of the mulberry (Moraceae) family was not in fruit, as I would have loved trying it out. It's called breadfruit, obviously enough, because the plant is very, very starchy. It's about a quarter carbs and the rest is water. Because of it's starchiness, it's often baked or fried.



Breadfruit is also a very high-fruiting tree, producing impressive fruit yields. In fact, Captain William Bligh and his infamous Bounty crew was tasked with harvesting breadfruit from Tahiti so the British could cultivate it in the Caribbean. They aimed to do so because the plant would be a fast and cheap source of food for British slaves. Ugh.

Artocarpus is literally Greek for breadfruit. Artos means bread and carpus means fruit or body.

Bird's Nest Fern

We have talked about epiphytes a few times on this blog and really, there can't be a better place to revisit the subject than in a valley forest in Hawaii. Below, you can see several different epiphytes growing in the canopy of a monkey pod tree (Albizia saman, more on that later).



Perhaps most beautiful are the apple green leaves of bird's nest fern (Asplenium nidis). Bird's nest ferns share their genus with 700 other species, some of which are very similar and often confused with Asplenium nidis.



This particular species can grow in trees as it is above or can grow terrestrially. They are also popular houseplants. Many of the species of Asplenium are generally referred to as spleenworts. This knowledge may give us pause as we consider the genus name again: Asplenium literally means "without spleen". It was thought, due to the spleen-shaped spores on some species of this genus, that this plant would help reduce swelling of the spleen.



Above you see some additional epiphytes, including staghorn fern (Platycerium) and what appears to be an epiphytic bromeliad, perhaps Nidularium.

Spathoglottis plicata

Spathoglottis plicata is another one of the plants I saw on my nursery visits in Oahu. I was struck by the great, strappy leaves - they almost remind me of Acorus leaves. And of course, I am an absolute sucker for this shade of deep pink. I love it.



Even from afar, something about this plant says 'orchid' and sure enough when you look at the individual flowers, they look like miniature Vandas. Unlike Vanda, Spathoglottis is a terrestrial orchid, that is, they don't grow epiphytically. Instead they grow in soil like any other herbaceous plant.


Spathoglottis literally means 'spathe tongue' and refers to the tongue-like flower lip. Plicata means 'pleated' and refers to the leaves.

Traveler's Palm

This recent trip turned me around when it comes to Ravenala madagascariensis, or traveler's palm. Previously, I had kinda pooh-poohed it. The form is just so...unnatural for a tree. People always seem to plant them because they like the flat rigid form then are dismayed when they see the wind shred the leaves to tatters. It always seemed a bit...gimmicky.



And if I had only encountered this plant in Waikiki then I think my opinion would remain unchanged. But luckily I went to the north shore for some vacation time after my site work and stumbled upon the Waimea Valley Botanical Garden. I was going to Waimea valley primarily to seek out the waterfall, so imagine my delight when I saw there were thousands of plants, all with labels.


I can only imagine how difficult it is to maintain a garden in a jungle valley and sure enough the landscape of the Waimea Valley Botanical Garden is sprawling and a bit shaggy. Personally, I preferred that; it would just seem wrong for a tailored garden to appear in a site like this. And I especially liked encountering this massive clump of traveler's palm growing alongside a path. It reminded me of the many people who have sought fresh water in the crevices of the leaves while on long, isolating treks (indeed, this is why the plant is called traveler's palm). Someday, when I have my Hawaiian villa, I think I will grow a few traveler's palms and let them run wild, clumping into an almost unmanageable grove.


Despite the use of "palm" in the common name, Ravenala madagascariensis is actually more closely related to bird-of-paradise (Strelitzia reginae) than any true palm. The flowers are similar too, though Strelitzia's blossoms are more colorful and a bit 'neater' looking.



Finally, as the species name would imply, this plant is not only native to Madagascar but is endemic to the island. It is not found in the wild anywhere else. In fact, many posit that the traveler's palm and one of its pollinators, the ruffled lemur co-evolved. This is likely based on the shape and size of the lemurs muzzle and the Ravenala's blossom.

Cycas circinalis

Most of my work in Waikiki was on-site, coordinating installation and making sure that all the plant material was acceptable for installation. But on Friday, I was able to spend the day with the landscape contractor, visiting various plant nurseries on the island. I was to inspect the plants that had been tagged for our installation as well as look for some additional plants to use.

Spending a day walking around plant nurseries in the company of someone who could answer me knowledgeably every time I pointed at something and said "What's that?!" is pretty much my idea of heaven (or at least one of them). It was a great day.



We started out heading to nurseries in Mililani Town then headed north to Wahiawa. I'll spend a few posts sharing pics of the plants I saw during this excursion. First up, Cycas circinalis or queen sago.



Most people probably know the king sago (Cycas revoluta), though I like this plant more; the leaves are much less spiny and the long, feathery fronds are quite beautiful in the sun. The term cycad refers to the plants in the Cycas genus as well as all plants in the Cycadophyta division. They are generally all living fossils and have a fossil record that dates back to the Early Permian Period, 280 million years ago. Cycadaecae family plants are somewhat younger, having only existed for the past forty-odd million years - their earliest fossils have been found in China and Japan. The earliest human documentation of Cycas occurred in the 9th Century, when Arab naturalists noted its use by Indians to produce flour.



The specimens at this nursery have been 'limbed up' to show the plant's trunk. Our plan for the site (these were tagged by our consultants) will be to let the lower fronds stay put, giving an overall effect of a feathery, floating plant. However, I have to say there's some profound beauty in the shadows that are cast by these leaves.

From Oahu to Washington

Well, I got back from Hawaii on Wednesday and am still kinda struggling with jetlag (and the pile of emails that I've yet to address). A couple people have written me messages regarding this blog and if you are reading this, thank you! I will get back to you soon. I promise.

Areca palms (Dypsis lutescens) at a
plant nursery in Wahiawa.

Between site work and my free time in Oahu, I took about 1200 photos! I will do you, dear reader, the favor of not sharing them all. (And indeed, I can't post work photos, which is a shame since the work was quite fun.) I'll sort through some of the best pics and pepper in posts from Hawaii in the months to come.

View northeast from Diamond Head summit

It's also as good a time as any to announce that I'll soon be moving away from New York. This summer I will relocate to Washington DC. My 11 years in Manhattan have been wonderful, but it's time for a change. I hope to freelance and slowly build a practice of my own in the region where I was first introduced to the worlds of horticulture and landscape design. The fact that my parents, brother and sister live there certainly sweetens the deal.

Haleiwa Town on the North Shore

I've always struggled with classifying myself as a "New Yorker" -- but this trip to Hawaii brought some of my New York characteristics into comic relief. While hiking at Diamond Head, I could precisely time when to pass other hikers with the agility of one who regularly walks on crowded Soho sidewalks, darting tourists along the way. A couple from Vancouver actually started following me, impressed with my steady (but polite - really!) progress to the summit.

Can you spot the sea turtle?

I wore my Yankees ballcap everywhere, trying to avoid getting too tan. On the north shore, a couple heard me approach the hotel elevator and held the door for me. When I entered the car, sure enough, the woman was wearing a Red Sox hat. We mock-gruffly nodded to each other, amused to find rival fans so far from the east coast.

Mineral falls, Waimea Valley, North Shore

(yes, that's me in the ballcap).

As a New Yorker, I was startled to find such scant Hispanic influence in Hawaii. It's obvious enough that there wouldn't be a large Hispanic culture, but I still found myself surprised to find the second language in Honolulu is Japanese. Not that my Spanish is particularly great -- these days it mostly consists of sentences used in MTA ads ("si ve algo, di algo").

Mango farms, flanked by Norfolk Island Pine
(Araucaria heterophylla).

And bagels. God, let's talk about bagels. I may be a reluctant New Yorker, but my pride in our wonderful bagels is only equal to my dismay when I rediscover this truth, which happens to be every time I leave the five boroughs. I met a woman in Waikiki who asked (upon noting my hat) if I was a New Yorker. She was from Centereach, Long Island. The next thing she said (quite woefully, I might add): "I miss bagels."

Dole Pineapple Plantation (an aside: when in Hawaii,
it's always worth it to spring for the convertible)

I love New York, in the deep, complicated, and at times barbed, way one loves a former lover. I want what's best for New York. I'm a little bit afraid of what life will be like without New York. But I know that it's time to leave New York, before I become embittered by New York. I'll visit often (and will continue to teach plants at Columbia). But it's time to be on less intimate terms with New York.

Ironwoods (Casuarina equisitifolia),
Sunset Beach, North Shore

Now then, what to do with this blog? For the next month or two, I'll continue to blog at this site. Then I'll pick up right where I will leave off: DC, Plants & Other Stuff. It's a ridiculous title, but when I started this blog, I named it New York, Plants & Other Stuff because I really wasn't sure what the blog would be about. Over the years, it's crystallized into a site that celebrates the diminutive features of the plants all around us. I hope to continue a blog with the same tone in DC. I'll keep this site active and will most likely link to former posts regularly. I hope you join me as I move a few states south.

Okay, ONE pic of the site work. Shh, don't tell.