View allAll Photos Tagged Botanicus
Mid-February 1696 a plot was to have been executed to kill the King by Jacobites vehemently opposed to the Glorious Revolution (1688) which had brought the Dutch stadtholder and his wife to the English Throne as William III (1650-1702) and Mary II (1677-1694). The plans were discovered, Orange prevailed, and the would-be assassins were made to feel the force of the law.
Mary had sadly died in 1694, so she probably wouldn't have seen these pretty Orange Canary Bell-Flowers which are attested for the gardens of their palace, Hampton Court in 1696.
Today our Bell-Flower is much beloved by gardeners around the Globe. But as endemic wild plants on the Canary Islands they are endangered. Environmental measures are being taken to protect them. William of Orange survived that plot by six years; it is hoped these Bell-Flowers have a longer wild future.
The Hortus has a pleasant little plot with Barberrys from various provenances. Here in the main photo is Darwin's Barberry, discovered by great Charles Darwin in 1835 (see my description: www.flickr.com/photos/87453322@N00/17098687398/in/photoli...). It's a bit of an anomaly to see it in blossom in the present snowy weather.
The inset gives the fruit of Wintergreen Barberry. It wasn't scientifically described until the early 1900s. It hails from China. These colors certainly brighten a dark winter's day!
They're hard to distinguish, Syrphus ribesii and Syrpus vitripennis. But judging from the color of the third femur - dark or even black - this is Glasswing, Lesser Banded Hoverfly. He's basking in the bright Spring Sun in the Hortus Botancius which isn't only a labeled plant collection but also a veritable Insect Zoo, challengingly unlabeled, of course..
This year the Hortus Botanicus has also planted a very pleasant vegetable garden. One of the plants brightening it even when the weather is the gloom of Spring is the golden yellow flower of Cucurbita pepo, Zucchini or Courgette. The vegetable hails from the Americas but gained general European kitchen favor in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
The Hortus Botanicus Leiden, nestled in the heart of the city, is a historical gem and a tranquil retreat. Established in 1590, it holds the distinction of being the oldest botanical garden in the Netherlands, with a rich collection that has grown over four centuries. Visitors can explore the Orangery from 1744, tropical greenhouses from 1938, and a winter garden from 2000, each offering a unique glimpse into the plant kingdom. The garden's commitment to education and conservation is evident through its diverse flora, including exotic species and historical plants like the old Tuliptree from 1716 and the Ginkgo from 1785. It's a place where nature's beauty is preserved and celebrated, providing a serene escape from the bustling city life.
It's hardly the kind of weather for licking ice-sticks. Though it's bright here in Amsterdam, the wind is very cold. Haven't seen a lot of Hoverflies around yet this Spring...
But here's - I think - tiny Platycheirus clypeatus, but correct me please if you think I'm wrong (first I thought: Melanostoma mellinum). He's feasting on the pollen of a Tulip Cultivar of 2002, Tulipa kaufmanniana 'Ice Stick' in the Hortus Botanicus of Amsterdam.
The pretty vegetable garden of the Hortus is made sunny-colorful by beds of French Marigold, Tagetes patula. Olymp caught a Flower's Brightness just before the gloom set in. And Common Greenbottle Fly, Lucilia sericata, gleamed silkily in the Sun.
Our Hoverfly was first described by that indefatigable Swedo-Dutch industrialist and entomologist Baron Charles de Geer (1720-1798). He amassed his fortune through his iron-works industry and was thought to be the richest man in the Sweden of his day. So he had lots of money to pursue his hobby of entomology and to carry on his feud about nomenclature with great Carolus Linnaeus as well. Enormously productive, he published extensively on the taxonomy of insects. He gave this Hoverfly the name Musca balteata in 1776. 'Balteata' is from the Latin and means something like 'girdled' or 'belted'.
The history of entomology continued of course, and classifications became more precise. In 1917 the scientific name by which we know Marmalade Hoverfly was established by two Japanese entomologists, Shônen Matsumura (1872-1960) and Tusmanitsu Adachi (1901-1981) in 1917. Matsumura worked on the Great Northern Island of Japan, Hokkaido, as an agricultural entomologist. No doubt he would have been delighted that Beautiful Marmalade was also very useful. Its larvae feed on plant pests such as aphids... This Hoverlady herself seems to be after the pollen of Dwarf Morning Glory. Soon there'll be her larval offspring to keep the plants of the Botanical Garden free of aphid pests.
Yes! It was a very bright morning!
The ghastly wet weather and gusty winds drove me into the Glass Houses of the Hortus Botanicus. There's a good collection of plants from South Africa there.
Here's Bright Yellow Poker, Kniphofia linearifolia Baker (for another bright orange Kniphovia in the garden outdoors see my earlier www.flickr.com/photos/87453322@N00/36150773033/in/photoli...). It's a foraging place for tiny black Ants, I think from the Tropics, perhaps hitchhiked here on traveling plants.
This wonderful grassy Wood-rush indeed gleams and sparkles purplish in the Sunlight. And there's probably some truth to the derivation of Luzula from a form of the Latin Lux, light. But nobody can narrow down the reason for its name more precisely. David Gledhill in his great The Names of Plants is quite right to say: Luzula is 'an ancient name of obscure meaning'.
There are at least four theories. The first is that this Wood-rush gleams in the moonlight like a glow worm, a Lucciola in Italian; another idea is that the flowers and their sheaths (ca. a mere 4-5 mm) dew-wet sparkle in the morning sunlight; third advocates claim the anthers and pistil look like lamp wicks, and hence the connection to light; and finally some have said that the pith of Wood-rush has been used to fashion exactly those candle or lamp wicks. I haven't been able to find any confirmation that Wood-rush pith was indeed used that way except for people claiming it. I'm also sceptical about the 'look-like-candle-wick' assertion. That leaves two explanations. It seems to me a bit far-fetched - having often seen glow worms myself - to put them into the equation; their light is far brighter than the gleam of Wood-rush in the moonlight. Which leaves as most likely the idea that our Plant in flower sparkles in the sunlight, as I myself could see this morning.
It wouldn't surprise me if Great Carolus Linnaeus had difficulty in pronouncing the English 'th'. His tongue like that of many non-native speakers was not subtle enough - hairy, as it were - for that sound. There is of course a story to why I think this...
It has everything to do with how Linnaeus first describes this pretty Common Fleabane, Pulicaria dysenterica. In the Flora suecica (1745) his description includes the interesting observation that our Fleabane saved the lives of many Russian soldiers in the Russo-Persian War (1722-1723). They used it as a medicine against dysentery. How exactly it's not said: it might have been through oral ingestion or else by way of its smoke; whatever the case, either the fleas (Pulex) or their effects - bacillary dysentery caused by transmitted Vibrio cholerae - were stymied in their run.
Whence Linnaeus's knowledge? Well, from one James Francis Edward Keith (1696-1758), a Scottish mercenary who fought for Prussians and Russians and anyone who'd have him. You get the picture: 'Keith' must've been a problem for Linnaeus to pronounce; perhaps he never met the man and only corresponded with him. In any case, his Flora suecica prints the General's name as 'Keit.
As far as I know, Keith did not take part in that Russo-Persian War; but he did play a heroic role in the Russo-Turkish War of 1741-1743. I wouldn't be surprised if his experience with our Pulicaria derives from that exercise and not from the earlier one. Possibly Linnaeus got that wrong as well, or otherwise Keith told him what he'd himself heard about the Persian expedition.
Here in the peaceful Hortus Botanicus this afternoon I saw this pretty Lasioglossum - Hairy- or Rough-Tongued Bee - calceatum on Bright Yellow Fleabane. Look at it's pretty reddish abdomen (and let's not be reminded of the less than savory sanguinary effects of dysentery).