Studiology

Digital DSLR Class

On January 7th, 2012, I will be giving a class, an introductory class for budding photographers. The class will explain the basics of changing lenses on your digital DSLR camera to working with white balance and file format. There will be technical stuff but also artistic stuff. I have planned an entire segment on how to have fun with your camera. Things like swiping, zooming, HDR and light painting will be included. I like to think this is a class like no other! There will be 6 hours of class with a nice lunch in Old Town, Manassas in between (10 am-4pm). Located at The Center for the Arts in Old Town, also known as The Candy Factory, here is a link to register:

http://www.center-for-the-arts.org

The cost for non-members is $120. 

 

                  

Mistletoe

 

 A knowledgeable horticulturist can recognize a tree from a great distance, a skill that comes with observation based on branching, bark type and color as well as canopy shape. Honing this skill is best done at this time of year since you can always wander up and find fallen leaves near by to confirm or deny your hunch. As much as I like playing the game of tree identification, I also like looking for that anomaly. Be it a twig nest versus leaf nest or witches broom (cluster of small branches usually caused by a virus) versus mistletoe. The hint of green and density of a mistletoe cluster is pretty obvious. Botanically known as Phoradendron leucarpum, translated from Greek origins, phoreo - to bear, dendron - tree and leucarpum - white fruit. Our local species has several common names, the American, Christmas or oak mistletoe, the latter since it is often found on oak, but actually uses many types of trees as hosts. Mistletoe can be found growing as far north as New York, but it is not nearly as common in its northern range. I am always delighted to find it, if for no other reason than to re-affirm its diminishing existence in Northern Virginia.

Technically mistletoe is a shrub that is hemiparasitic which means that it's not a full blown parasite, it can produce its own chlorophyll and support itself, sort of. The fruit is white and the pulp is very, very sticky. After a bird eats the fruit, it will spend time wiping the stickiness off of its bill (hence attaching seed to tree bark) and/or the subsequent bird dropping will also remain sticky, leaving the seed up on a branch. Each white berry (or drupe) contains 1 seed which can survive for about a year as a young plant, before it needs to find sustenance from its host. As roots grow they reach deeper into the tree, penetrating the cambial layer or bark, searching for that flow of sap.

Historically the fruit as been used to treat various conditions, Cherokee tribes used a "tea ooze" to bathe the head for a headache and infusions for high blood pressure and lung problems. More recent, and highly controversial usage is with the European mistletoe, used to inhibit tumors, raising the immune defense response, particularly in breast cancer patients. The truth is that people have died from ingesting mistletoe berries, which is why any plants you find for sale during the holidays often have the berries removed, replaced with plastic ones. 

The custom of kissing under the mistletoe comes to us from Scandinavian mythology, a Norse goddess of love, named Frigga, is a long and convoluted story which ends in the mistletoe berries becoming symbols of love and fertility. An exert from the American author Washington Irving explains it simply here from the book "The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon" written in 1820:

"The mistletoe is still hung up in farm-houses and kitchens at Christmas and the young men have the privilege of kissing the girls under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush. When the berries are all plucked, the privilege ceases. "

 If not for winter and deciduous trees, plus the allure of such an odd plant, mistletoe might be better suited for Valentine's Day.

 

 

American Horticultural Society Show

I will be joined by 2 extrodinary artists for a show at The American Horticultural Society in Alexandria, VA. The three of us are photographers but also mixed media artists, so this will be an interesting display of art, all flower and garden oriented. The opening reception is on January 14th, 2012 from 3 to 5, there will be food shaped like flowers to snack on and you can visit and talk to the artists. The show will continue to hang from January to March 28th. 

The American Horticultural Society is a wonderful place to visit, seeped in history, the site was once owned by George Washington and renamed River Farm once he acquired the property. It sits next to Mount Vernon, his primary home.  The largest Osage orange in the country lives at River Farm and there is a fantastic view of the Potomac River, not to mention, many other gardens.  

The Bulbs of Winter

Smart is the gardener that has planted the wonderful bulbs that offer winter interest. Bought as small, rock-like lumps, each a package of immense promise. Particularly rewarding when weather is inclement, the gardener can't help but be grateful.

It is Cyclamen hederifolium that fills my shade garden with beautifully patterned foliage in winter. Dainty flowers of pink or white open in late summer, foliage follows. Hardy, a tuber that only gets better with time, three years, six years, the show improves.


Planted in various thicknesses, mixed with no premeditation are other bulbs of winter interest. Crocus tomasianus offers dainty lavender petals, usually the first crocus to flower. Of substantial stamina, the petals are thin, not to be compared or planted with the hefty Dutch hybrids that squirrels and chipmunks prefer. Gardeners call them toms, spoken with admiration and fondness, the little bulb that could, Crocus tomasianus often flowers in mid-February.

Eranthis hyemalis or winter aconite may stand as the poster child of cheerfulness in February with its bright yellow flowers. A green ruff sits directly below each buttercup flower, distinctively different from typical long slender leaves of other bulb foliage. A social plant, best friend to galanthus or snowdrops. The two carpet the garden in February, happily intermingled, thrilled to take advantage of sunny days, before trees leaf out. Moist ground remains moist before water is wicked up by larger roots. Forced into pockets filled with tree roots, these hardy little bulbs may be the only thing that can grow in such a harsh space.


My fondness for snowdrops has been the topic of many previous articles. If you have planted a few, it will only be two months before they lift their little floral heads. Adding these other bulbs will enhance the show and lift your spirits. Happy days in February and March, what else can bring such promise?