We’re in the final hours left until September returns to hell and that most wondrous month of the year starts up. Oh, sure, there’s always that holiday at the end of the month, but right now we’re focusing on the sheer joy of stepping outside during the day and not crisping into a Free-Range Soylent Green Dorito. Air that doesn’t smell of burning flint, or even burning Manistee. Heck, by the end of this week, we might actually need jackets first thing in the morning. Summer is finally dead, and good riddance to bad rubbish.
Anyway, if things go quiet for the rest of the week, it’s because that rest of the week belongs to getting ready for the last Triffid Ranch show of the year at FenCon X this weekend. A last-minute additional table opened up today, so it’s time to go mad and bring out arrangements where I normally wouldn’t have the room. Since the Sarracenia are doing the same now that the heat broke, it’s only fair. Besides the usual plant craziness, it’s time to catch up on festivities with old friends (some of whom haven’t been out to a convention of this sort for twenty years, so this is a serious reunion for us all), as well as hanging out with friend and fellow Michiganite Tom Smith. And that’s not even mentioning everyone else in the dealer’s room.
In the meantime, back to the linen mines until Friday afternoon. The next Triffid Ranch show is next March at All-Con, so take advantage of the weather and come out for a viewing of the flora.
As brought up before, Texas is full of awe-inspiring surprises, and Fort Worth has more than its fair share. One of the more intriguing, from a horticultural standpoint, is the recently opened Botanical Research Institute of Texas facility on the grounds of the Fort Worth Botanic Garden. Normally, the BRIT is only open during the workweek, but the facility crew pride themselves on opening for special events on the first Saturday of every month, which necessitated a road trip. Not that I needed an excuse to go to Fort Worth on a Saturday morning, but organized events imply that I’m coming back, and the Czarina worries that one of these days, I’m just going to stop where I am, rent out an apartment, and stay there. I keep telling her “You can come by and visit whenever you want,” but that doesn’t seem to work.
Anyway, the BRIT grounds are an exceptional example of the use of indigenous species for gardening needs, and it’s only started. The outer walls are designed to take advantage of vines and creepers to shade the building during future summers, with cables running from the roof to encourage growth. The main grounds are full of herbs and trees with culinary or medicinal uses, with handy and occasionally thorough identification tags on particularly prime specimens to encourage visitors to look for other examples. At the beginning of September, the latter part of the day is still too hot to stay out there long, but the mornings are cool enough for a monthly farmer’s market out in the front, and the walkways themselves are designed to prompt further exploration. By the middle of October, when we really get into our second growing season, this should be mind-meltingly beautiful.
It should be noted that Fort Worth is also the home of Texas Christian University, the alma mater of many old and dear friends, and they’re rather proud of the reptilian school mascot. TCU bucks the old joke about how so many graduates of Texas schools resemble their mascots (particularly around SMU), but considering the time I’ve made those aforementioned friends bleed from the eyes with obsessive and overly pedantic discussions, I start to wonder if they’re just picking up horned toad superpowers instead.
As fun as First Saturdays can be, the main purpose, and the main draw, of BRIT is its extensive botanical sample collection. It’s rather humbling to realize that the rows upon rows of shelving systems, seemingly more suited for a bank or mortgage company’s paper files than anything else, are all full of Texas plant specimens that may have been collected when Texas was still a Spanish territory. Equally humbling is the army of volunteers working through the building on a Saturday to archive and stabilize specimens. One of these days, when I can justify it, I want to go through and view the collections of native state carnivorous plants, if only to confirm a vague suspicion of mine, but that won’t be happening for a while.
During this visit, the main event was the opening of an exhibition on the BRIT’s sister herbarium, the Makino Botanical Garden (MGB) in Kochi, Japan. The Institute hosted a small but enthusiastic event roster for the opening, including a display from the Fort Worth Bonsai Society, all as highlights for the main exhibition. Considering the relatively cramped space in the main BRIT lobby, I was surprised at the number of attendees for the opening, and realized that when the heat finally breaks, the main courtyard out front will be perfect for events of this sort.
Now, half of the fun of obscure knowledge is being able to return what one receives. While viewing samples of the absolutely incredible illustrations of Tomitaro Makino, one of the provosts came up and told me that most of the detail came from the artist using a brush with a mous-hair tip for the inks. After getting a closer view, it’s unfathomably hyperfocused work even in the days of PhotoShop, and I don’t think most people could have seen that detail, much less drawn it, 50 years ago. The fact that one artist thought the work was worth that level of precision, though, made me appreciate it that much more.
That’s where I returned the favor. Seeing this print, I turned to the provost and asked “Did you know you have an illustration of a carnivorous plant here?” She and several other volunteers were understandably shocked and surprised, and that’s when I pointed out “This is about the only major carnivorous plant genus that I’ve never seen, in the wild or otherwise, but it says a lot about its range worldwide at the time.”
I won’t reproduce a detailed image of this out of respect to both the artist and BRIT, but now I think I need to track down a copy of The Illustrated Flora of Japan, either in Japanese or English. This one lithograph alone made it necessary, and fellow carnivorous plant enthusiasts will understand.
Remember my comment about surprises hiding in plain sight? One of the best surprises in the Fort Worth Botanic Garden water lily gazing ponds was discovering the Victoria lilies mixed among the temperate water lilies. While these aren’t reaching the sizes necessary to support children on their pads, and they’d probably have issues with anything larger than an action figure, this was still a great opportunity to see both the opened pads and the protective thorns and hooks on the bottom of the immature ones. Sadly, these didn’t have any opened blooms, but those might be waiting for the rainy season, such as it is in Texas, to start. Considering the current weather predictions, anyone getting up next to the gazing pools might get an additional surprise when visiting this weekend.
One of the things I enjoy most about living in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex is the surprise. The most interesting things in both cities aren’t the items and activities actively promoted. They’re the little things hiding in plain sight, invisible to the incurious and the inattentive. These include the Ann and Gabriel Barbier-Mueller Samurai Collection in Dallas, and the Fort Worth Botanic Garden is rotten with them.
By way of example, most attendees of the Botanic Garden rush past the entrance to get to the various garden areas, or at least to find a parking spot with a modicum of shade. If they notice the giant bronze frogs in the central median at the entrance, it’s only while passing. A few might see that the frogs stand at the ends of gazing pools, but it’s only the few who bother to get out of their cars who notice the water lilies of all sorts growing therein.
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Posted onSeptember 13, 2013|Comments Off on Tales From The Fort Worth Botanic Garden Conservatory – 5
One of the many reasons why I love the Fort Worth Botanic Garden: just show me where in the Dallas Arboretum where the Arboretum has a mature cacao tree. For the people who insist upon getting familiar with where their food comes from, come to Fort Worth to see your chocolate on the hoof.
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Posted onSeptember 11, 2013|Comments Off on Tales From The Fort Worth Botanic Garden Conservatory – Introduction
As mentioned a few days ago, events and situations required a trip out to Fort Worth, specifically to the Fort Worth Botanic Garden. I’m much more fond of the FWBG than of the Dallas Arboretum for a lot of reasons, not the least of which being the Texas-friendly Japanese garden, but one of the real draws is the conservatory. That conservatory is even the source of a tiny bit of marital strife: if the finances presented themselves somehow, I’d have absolutely no problem with building a similar conservatory purely for Triffid Ranch experimentation. The strife comes from the realization that as soon as it was finished, neither the Czarina nor anyone else would ever see me outside again.
Since I’m going to be busy with a major update of the Triffid Ranch Web site, keep checking back here for photos from one trip. This place is so large and so diverse that it’s easy to get overloaded…and photos don’t do any of it justice.
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Alternately, on the other side of the museum entrance is an old friend from way back, and one of these days, I’ll have a space large enough and a wallet large enough to get one of my own. Fiberglass and resin tyrannosaurs are a dime a dozen, but where else outside of Texas would anyone see a life-sized Acrocanthosaurus?
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And that’s it for AnimeFest 2013. I can’t thank Tony, Jenny, and Kitt for helping with setup and teardown (especially Jenny: the Czarina and I would adopt her if we could, just so we could tell everyone what a great daughter we have), and thanks to everyone who came by. Here’s to next year.
The extension cords are rolled up and put away, the spare tables stowed, and the back muscles allowed to recuperate. AnimeFest 2013 might have been a different Triffid Ranch show than most (as evidenced by the number of slumming hipsters who seemed honestly offended at the presence of any booth not full of bright primary colors and shiny objects), but it was full of interesting people and interesting conversations. Several times, great discussions ended not because there wasn’t more to talk about, but because convention security came through with bullhorns yelling “THE DEALER’S ROOM IS CLOSED! COME BACK TOMORROW!” And there was a lot to talk about.
With great responsibility comes great power to do good. Before sharing stories about the convention, I’d also like to note that I wear my Backup Ribbon Project ribbon with honor, and respect the meaning behind it. If I’m at a show or convention, and you are being harassed or fear further harassment, I WILL back you up. Just take that as an advance notice, and don’t be afraid to head straight to the Triffid Ranch booth if you need help. We’re all in this together.
Back to the subject at hand, for those unfamiliar with the show, AnimeFest is one of Dallas’s largest genre conventions, and one of the larger anime conventions in the US. You may ask “so why sell carnivorous plants at an anime convention?” That’s a reasonable question, and one asked quite often over Thursday evening setup and the subsequent four days of the show. Just a look at the smiles from happy customers helps explain “why”.