tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85089984638664076632024-03-05T02:52:34.917-08:00TheobrominatedPhil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-58728122002501293622019-01-26T17:20:00.000-08:002019-01-26T17:20:38.329-08:00New Zealand Veronica: how high do they grow?
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">At the moment, New Zealand’s largest flowering plant genus is </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Veronica</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> (the speedwells and <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.com/2011/08/dont-judge-plant-by-appearances.html" target="_blank">hebes</a>), with 122 native and 19 introduced species (maybe 124 and 17, since we’re not sure about the biostatus of two). But pretty soon, new discoveries in </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Carex</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> might knock </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Veronica</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> off the top spot.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">One interesting thing about native New Zealand <i>Veronica</i> is that—apart from the Australian <i>V. calycina</i> and <i>V. plebeia</i> that some botanists regard as natives—they’re all derived from a single ancestor that arrived here about 10 million years ago. That means their huge range of growth forms, leaf shapes, flower shapes, and capsule structures and functions have evolved here in New Zealand, likely as adaptive responses to a range of soils, climates, pollinators, and means of dispersal.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Last week, I’ve been collecting data on elevational ranges for all New Zealand species of <i>Veronica</i>, to add to the <a href="http://www.nzflora.info/" target="_blank">Flora of New Zealand </a>text I’ve been preparing. Fortunately, the main herbaria (pressed plant collections) have digitised their <i>Veronica</i> labels, so I haven’t needed to look again at all the specimens (I’d already identified them).</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The first thing that struck me is that only about half the specimens had a recorded elevation on the label. That’s not so surprising though; a lot of the collections are old, and it wasn’t always easy before good maps and GPS to estimate an elevation. Should I go through these and infer an elevation? I decided not to, for two reasons. First, there are already a lot of collections that do have good data, and my assumption is that those will give me a pretty accurate range for each species. Secondly, the locality data on these old specimens is often vague, and inferring their elevation might introduce errors.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvA7B_hzA4JKOXcU_KcPI7A094rF68dx-q7bPsz7dnQ4wdiRekYmlEmrOqXdeO161cXeoA0vS1CyQl45PrO6fFWcCcrY_kYek82OrhxWGU0JfzMkPYLcfYmLQUnTJaQTCq5KO5GVtSAcA/s1600/Veronica+melanocaulon_E_flowers+MasonR%253AIsolatedCk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="500" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvA7B_hzA4JKOXcU_KcPI7A094rF68dx-q7bPsz7dnQ4wdiRekYmlEmrOqXdeO161cXeoA0vS1CyQl45PrO6fFWcCcrY_kYek82OrhxWGU0JfzMkPYLcfYmLQUnTJaQTCq5KO5GVtSAcA/s320/Veronica+melanocaulon_E_flowers+MasonR%253AIsolatedCk.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers of <i>Veronica melanocaulon</i>, from Mason River, N. Canterbury.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Indeed, I found a good example that shows the need for caution. A fairly old collection of <i>V. melanocaulon</i> was simply labeled “Mt Terako”. But somebody later had helpfully tried to add value by inferring an elevation for it, looking up Mt Terako on the map to give a databased figure of 1740m. When I compiled the data to get overall ranges, this was the highest elevation for <i>V. melanocaulon</i> by about 800 hundred metres. <i>V. melanocaulon</i> plants are found along river and stream banks, not on mountain tops, and while I have no doubt it was collected in the general area of Mt Terako, I’m also sure it wasn’t at 1740m.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kXYxNxUFyFQ9To3hOzQoMAgLqf4s_ULvQPc5EQp7nnfOhlCa4wk6OEh0ip5GBexpuGbjChb5RorZLN_xHMqn_S7tO0iRsvK7fH0xFmvUUcfQ5ZzPKYbQJpRyXZeffbr0qxSDg8bPOWM/s1600/Veronica+elliptica_B_sprig+MilfordSd+DSC06015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kXYxNxUFyFQ9To3hOzQoMAgLqf4s_ULvQPc5EQp7nnfOhlCa4wk6OEh0ip5GBexpuGbjChb5RorZLN_xHMqn_S7tO0iRsvK7fH0xFmvUUcfQ5ZzPKYbQJpRyXZeffbr0qxSDg8bPOWM/s320/Veronica+elliptica_B_sprig+MilfordSd+DSC06015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica elliptica</i>, at Milford Sound.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">About 30 species can be found at or near sea level, but only a few—like <i>V. elliptica</i> at 0–45 m—are strictly coastal. Many, like <i>V. odora,</i> have larger elevation and habitat ranges that only sometimes come as low as sea level. <i>V. lilliputiana</i> plants grow on silty or muddy shores of lakes and ponds and only sometimes find suitable sites near the sea, for example in lagoons at Lake Forsyth and Otago Peninsula.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SvsnjRtcktOS7K4Zl7M28dnQdcof6ZV1ZLgiiFRDCuBa-1nD969qrw2kCoFYdoXcnqeW41fGc6AIADuQfOd_Ch9b6he1m-xEfus2kweVZtGTLL2BD0iyBlE0bAwlx_SVQAgsjUmsKyI/s1600/Veronica+lilliputiana_F_flower+PGJ3074+1mm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SvsnjRtcktOS7K4Zl7M28dnQdcof6ZV1ZLgiiFRDCuBa-1nD969qrw2kCoFYdoXcnqeW41fGc6AIADuQfOd_Ch9b6he1m-xEfus2kweVZtGTLL2BD0iyBlE0bAwlx_SVQAgsjUmsKyI/s320/Veronica+lilliputiana_F_flower+PGJ3074+1mm.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica lilliputiana </i>(scale = 1 mm)<i>.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">At the other end of the spread, </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;">Veronica</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;"> achieves some of the highest elevations for flowering plants in New Zealand. At the very top is </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;">V. birleyi</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;">. Its <b>lowest</b> record is 1830 m, and it has been collected as high up as 2835 m. I’ve only seen it once, at Copland Pass near Mt Cook, and then only because a couple of climber friends took me there safely. I once thought I’d found </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;">V. birleyi</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;"> at 1470 m on the Takitimu Range in Southland, but closer examination showed those plants were a new species, <i>V. spectabilis</i>, that’s most likely its nearest relative</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;">.</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8oVZHUpIAMDXv-gucj4NyCPy3NStKcSvlRG1kj5uyAhOtWn_Qxzkp5eL2RZwOD-bc-62iOkchXUeQi2wjQA1T5-6ljzNwuZlii9g3lxRnYhXs4Pi1RFisbEssjYfMfZuNUhK43CQrAs/s1600/Veronica+birleyi%2526spectabilis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="1010" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8oVZHUpIAMDXv-gucj4NyCPy3NStKcSvlRG1kj5uyAhOtWn_Qxzkp5eL2RZwOD-bc-62iOkchXUeQi2wjQA1T5-6ljzNwuZlii9g3lxRnYhXs4Pi1RFisbEssjYfMfZuNUhK43CQrAs/s400/Veronica+birleyi%2526spectabilis.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica birleyi </i>(left) has smaller flowers (not shown) than the similar <i>V. spectabilis</i>.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><i>Veronica epacridea</i> is a close second, reaching an elevation of 2745 m, but it has a larger range, down to 638 m. The high altitude veronicas are mostly members of the snow hebe and connatae informal groups. Nine species or subspecies are not known at or below 1200 m, roughly the old 4000 foot mark, and eight (not always the same ones) reach maximum elevations of 2000 m or more.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0puk4Lt7QZmv_TbBCud5jU9EU1MjfTUfxCNvznnevN_RwchpYq4701Iy2zT5rFrQ1espr6M9oB3VGZFL0NUvOhDFNN14LjYkpcDRPeGGmoVmLTvDNMrprlqW4zJklpGffOpzKphCyLs/s1600/Veronica+epacridea_A_habit+TorlessePGJ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0puk4Lt7QZmv_TbBCud5jU9EU1MjfTUfxCNvznnevN_RwchpYq4701Iy2zT5rFrQ1espr6M9oB3VGZFL0NUvOhDFNN14LjYkpcDRPeGGmoVmLTvDNMrprlqW4zJklpGffOpzKphCyLs/s320/Veronica+epacridea_A_habit+TorlessePGJ.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica epacridea</i> on the Torlesse Range, Canterbury.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">What’s in between? The bulk of the genus is neither coastal, nor high alpine. How many are subalpine to alpine versus lowland to montane? We could use the natural tree-line as a convenient dividing point, except that it varies, from 1500 m in central North Island, to 900 m in Southland (Alan Mark’s “Above the treeline” has a good introduction to the alpine zone and its environments). I can’t be bothered going through my list one by one to assign them carefully to “above” or “below” tree-line groups, otherwise I’d probably be writing this as a scientific paper, not a blog post.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">About 65 species and subspecies have a <i>minimum</i> elevation above 600 m and a maximum over 1500 m, so they’re mostly found in the zones above tree-line. And about thirty native species and subspecies have <i>maxima</i> that are below 900 m, so they’re lowland to montane. Another thirty or so have maxima clearly above, and minima clearly below tree-line; they seem to be plants of the montane to subalpine zones.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>Veronica epacridea</i> has the biggest overall range, at 2107 m. That’s because, although it’s mostly an alpine to high-alpine plant, it can be found occasionally on screes and cliffs at much lower levels, perhaps establishing sporadically from seeds or even bits of plant that have blown down from above. <i>V. lanceolata</i> also has a wide range (1708 m). It has narrow-leaved forms found at low altitudes in coastal Taranaki and Coromandel and forms with broad fleshy leaves in the North Island mountains. Its local populations are maybe adapting to different conditions and could be in the process of diverging into separate species.</span></div>
<br />Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-30439605958952581252017-12-28T00:06:00.000-08:002017-12-28T00:06:06.434-08:00What I did last year for hay fever.<b>Disclaimer</b>: the following is not medical advice. It's just a description of what I started doing for my hay fever last summer. And it's not research based: there's no control and the sample size is n = 1.<br />
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I guess botanists suffer from hay fever at about the same rate as any other profession, but being allergic to your job is always good for a laugh, at least for other people. I suffer pretty badly from hay fever, mostly in November, December, and the first half of January. Allergy skin testing shows I'm very strongly allergic to cocksfoot (<i>Dactylis glomerata</i>), quite strongly to some other grasses like timothy and ryegrass, and mildly to plantain and some tree pollens.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQLSZN6YEslMMM6_EEr1YsFOAExIRIcV_xpwujOcw6Rc6MHdyrIol9Tf5H8DqFXLNxEYaHc2e9nyxaYMQKxD53q1IaniDeaqu1i7KzxIlKDPLm7cQ_4j77iu2D6g298Vt_FZTj_vR7Do/s1600/Dacglo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQLSZN6YEslMMM6_EEr1YsFOAExIRIcV_xpwujOcw6Rc6MHdyrIol9Tf5H8DqFXLNxEYaHc2e9nyxaYMQKxD53q1IaniDeaqu1i7KzxIlKDPLm7cQ_4j77iu2D6g298Vt_FZTj_vR7Do/s320/Dacglo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Cocksfoot produces masses of pollen from those large pink anthers.</div>
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Over the years, medications have improved. The first I used (mid 1960s) were Polaramine 2 mg, little pink pills that were very effective, but they made me drowsy. I've tried lots of others as they came onto the market and most have been pretty good. But for the last ten years or so, after some nasty side-effects, I've avoided pills altogether and instead used a combination of nasal spray and eye drops to topically treat the symptoms. That's been very effective. However, about five years ago pharmacists started warning me against continuous use of the eye drops. Apparently continued use of anti-histamines can worsen symptoms of prostate enlargement in men with benign prostate hyperplasia (i.e., many men my age). I've also tried the desensitisation injections, but it was tedious and only lasted a few years.<br />
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So last year I had a bit of a think. I realised that my main allergen, cocksfoot, starts flowering several weeks before I get my first hay fever symptoms. It seems a bit of pollen in the air isn't enough to set my hay fever off. It's only when levels get really high—peak flowering—that I succumb to that debilitating itching and sneezing and sometimes even to skin rashes. Also it also doesn't start as soon as I go outside; it usually takes at least 15-30 minutes, often a lot more, to kick in. And it's worse at certain times of the day.<br />
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I assume that pollen settles in the film of tears on my eyes, and blinking concentrates it along my eyelids; once enough has built up there, it starts to generate a noticeable allergic response. So, I wondered, what if I could simply wash it away? How quickly would it accumulate again? I bought a bottle of a proprietary eye wash, mostly just to get the little plastic eye-wash cup that came with it.<br />
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Washing my eyes a couple of times a day seems to be enough to prevent them from itching, except when I'm outside during peak cocksfoot flowering; then it can be necessary every 30–60 minutes. It doesn't even have to be the commercial eye wash, just clean water works fine too. With hindsight, I remembered I don't get hay fever for a while after swimming.<br />
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After a bit of experimenting, I found that opening my eyes under the stream of water in the shower does the job pretty well and lasts all day for much of the hay fever season. I cup my hands under each eye and fill the space with water, then blink and roll my eyes up and down and right and left a few times. Lately I've been comfortable just opening my eyes under the stream of water (I turn the temperature down a little).<br />
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I spend most of my time in the Wellington city and suburbs, where there is a lot less flowering grass than in the countryside. When I'm outside doing field work, I carry a small bottle of tap water, an eye wash cup, and a small towel, so I can stop and rinse my eyes whenever I need to. It's no more uncomfortable than opening your eyes when swimming underwater.<br />
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Itchy eyes are my main hay fever symptom, but I can also get a runny nose. I found I could learn to tolerate rinsing my nasal passages in the shower too, and that gives good relief. But mostly just washing my eyes <i>seems</i> also to prevent the worst of the runny nose and sneezing.<br />
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Rarely, if I'm out on a sunny hot day, I can have a pretty extreme rash and even swelling, wherever my skin comes into contact with pollen. That's a photosensitive dermatitis, caused by a combination of pollen, sweat, and sunlight. To protect my skin, I just wear long trousers and long-sleeved shirts.<br />
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Last summer, and again this year, I used this regime and I didn't need any drugs at all. I had a bit of hay fever, but nothing too uncomfortable. As long as I had some water and my eye wash cup with me, I found I could very quickly put an end to itchy eyes (the itchiness disappeared almost instantly after washing). My hope is I'll never need hay fever drugs again.<br />
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<b>I repeat: this is not medical advice</b>. It might not work for you. There might be risks I haven't thought of. But I thought I had nothing to lose in giving it a try. It's probably safest to use distilled water or clean saline solution; a proprietary eye wash would be even better. If you use warm shower or tap water, you'd want to be sure the hot has been heated sufficiently to sterilise it (otherwise <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legionnaires%27_disease">legionnaire's disease</a> might be a risk).<br />
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If you do try it, it's at your own risk, but please post a comment and let me and others know if it helps, or not. I'd also welcome comments from medical professionals, because I might be overlooking something important. I did discuss it briefly with my doctor; he looked skeptical and slightly disapproving, but didn't give any particular advice.<br />
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<br />Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-91259693004087217442016-03-15T18:46:00.001-07:002016-03-15T23:56:51.325-07:00A dry summer in Wellington.I haven't blogged here for a couple of years. I've been busy doing other things, mostly with a camera, and I'll have more to say about that in good time.<br />
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It's been a warm and dry summer in Wellington. Until Christmas it was cool, even cold, but since the beginning of January it's been much warmer than usual and very dry. Warmer than usual in Wellington isn't what most people would call warm, but daytime temperatures have stayed in the mid-20s for weeks and some nights have been uncomfortably warm. We had a shower of rain, briefly, about three weeks ago, and the last one before that was probably two weeks prior. That's pretty unusual round here, and our plants aren't used to it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pate, <i>Schefflera digitata</i>. The leaves aren't really wilting, but the swollen pulvinus at the petiole base has lost turgor, making the leaves hang down</td></tr>
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I went for a walk yesterday to look for pigeon-wood fruit (<i>Hedycarya arborea</i>) in the Birdwood Reserve near the Zealandia sanctuary. The understory was very dry and many plants were wilting noticeably.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0QmLBfsg-HIhpvVfaX9qQTbWdLSQPOPCapjR6XIC9w4upvNNSPoHJ2J440k5-hgiELcGXlJJIipMBRHUbXHqpXfawLIiuJCi27s9wOEawh1WW5qlijln4O6auwrghqXnndOB7lfejKA/s1600/Copgra+drought.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0QmLBfsg-HIhpvVfaX9qQTbWdLSQPOPCapjR6XIC9w4upvNNSPoHJ2J440k5-hgiELcGXlJJIipMBRHUbXHqpXfawLIiuJCi27s9wOEawh1WW5qlijln4O6auwrghqXnndOB7lfejKA/s1600/Copgra+drought.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Coprosma grandifolia</i> wilting badly</td></tr>
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Everywhere, the soil was dry and dusty. But the wilting was most intense on the little ridges that run down the steep valley sides (this valley runs along the Wellington Fault). Interestingly, out in the open, some of the same plants showed no wilting at all. Maybe those ones are acclimated to dry conditions.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWAZbt-W9__BkUoZ8810_2HKKz4iFWK2nlQxRS_l3orMlK28deytNKGaTzAsEeN_rRQeho9ESVZW8BE2RaoWLR5Ol8gLoN9qMYty1mMT394sgwZP7AkVsgBVjg4E1XJKOW-M5Mg0A_o8/s1600/Genlig+drought.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWAZbt-W9__BkUoZ8810_2HKKz4iFWK2nlQxRS_l3orMlK28deytNKGaTzAsEeN_rRQeho9ESVZW8BE2RaoWLR5Ol8gLoN9qMYty1mMT394sgwZP7AkVsgBVjg4E1XJKOW-M5Mg0A_o8/s1600/Genlig+drought.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hangehange (<i>Genisotoma ligustrifolium</i>) leaves are dull and wilted.</td></tr>
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What's going on? Is this global climate change?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjvYx1wg17h4i1mGvRh_BcAZje3QlEPLWrldfsB2tBqhOdETUrX-gqYM-2BxhfyG-LzNg3vNlj_6LW8v-AtI40asqx7wEDVhPfxHJH8wuScLiOIi5yJ9ruAYOu88S429Pb-qP2cVnbhE/s1600/Micpus+drought.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjvYx1wg17h4i1mGvRh_BcAZje3QlEPLWrldfsB2tBqhOdETUrX-gqYM-2BxhfyG-LzNg3vNlj_6LW8v-AtI40asqx7wEDVhPfxHJH8wuScLiOIi5yJ9ruAYOu88S429Pb-qP2cVnbhE/s1600/Micpus+drought.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These fern (<i>Microsorum pustulatum</i>) leaves were dull and wilted, with a slightly silvery sheen.</td></tr>
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It might be, but this year is also a very strong El Nino year. Of course the strength of the El Nino might itself be due to climate change. But in general, it's tricky to extrapolate from an extreme weather event like a hot or cold day, or even a hot or cold season, to overall long term climate trends. If we don't allow people to say a snow-storm is evidence that climate change isn't happening, we shouldn't allow people to say a heat wave is evidence that it is.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg97koAMbirin9_f8OjJvJFAOU3iWaD5SATIgyF844SS3U1nlCjnT17VZqzfqyEuhxSZr17HC2M822m367Q0WqY9BLqJ6Gorsqf_fU9EzBQ5GUGGefkCc6s3N2AoxaN_tsl8laDldRPMJ8/s1600/Pipexc+drought.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg97koAMbirin9_f8OjJvJFAOU3iWaD5SATIgyF844SS3U1nlCjnT17VZqzfqyEuhxSZr17HC2M822m367Q0WqY9BLqJ6Gorsqf_fU9EzBQ5GUGGefkCc6s3N2AoxaN_tsl8laDldRPMJ8/s1600/Pipexc+drought.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kawakawa (<i>Piper excelsum</i>) starting to wilt. The leaves have curled and are hanging down.</td></tr>
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However, long term trends show pretty clearly that the climate is getting warmer almost everywhere, and it seems that last year, and this one so far, are way warmer than even that trend would have predicted. You'd have to be pretty out of touch not to have seen the evidence in the form of temperature graphs in the news or on line.<br />
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Anyway, locally and for now the good news is that today the rain is here, and it's cold. I don't know if this rain is a drought-breaker, but with the cooler seasons approaching I guess we can expect more of it.<br />
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Did I find pigeonwood in fruit? Yes, thanks; I did.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBhh0LRY40DPIioD_DATAoFf0DrvyA4Ly3dPdE-f6G1aSps-dvWiurmTkv0_-KpbH5EGzlUqDKU8FAySezFO4ucfgsAkiBcxtKR1ttCUuwRCBG0w0pbyq-wqIGtjJnr579gnHEiWJaW-k/s1600/pigeonwood+fruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBhh0LRY40DPIioD_DATAoFf0DrvyA4Ly3dPdE-f6G1aSps-dvWiurmTkv0_-KpbH5EGzlUqDKU8FAySezFO4ucfgsAkiBcxtKR1ttCUuwRCBG0w0pbyq-wqIGtjJnr579gnHEiWJaW-k/s1600/pigeonwood+fruit.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pigeonwood (Hedycarya arborea) fruits.</td></tr>
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How long will it be before I start complaining about the rain and cold?Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-5339011945483699932014-10-05T19:24:00.000-07:002014-10-05T19:24:04.898-07:00The Great Veronica Hunt—part 7.<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Spring’s here, although you wouldn’t know it today in Christchurch. I’m here for a couple of days to collect and photograph three veronicas for the <a href="http://www.nzflora.info/">eFlora project</a>: <i>Veronica polita</i>, <i>V. lavaudiana</i>, and <i>V. hederifolia</i>. I've seen the last two on previous occasions, but I've never seen <i>V. polita</i> before, and it hasn’t been collected in a while, so I went after it first.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Most of the recent collections are from Riccarton, a suburb of Christchurch, but even so, they’re not <i>very</i> recent. In 1954 it was found in the grounds of <a href="http://www.ccc.govt.nz/cityleisure/parkswalkways/christchurchbotanicgardens/gardenparks/monavale.aspx">Mona Vale</a>, a stately home that now belongs to the City Council. In 1966, it was collected in Puriri Street, nearby. And in 1974 it was found on the other side of Riccarrton Road at the Riccarton Town Hall’s car park (now the Riccarton Service Centre of the Christchurch City Council). I went there first.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The car park is still there, but the old hall and much of the garden area is behind mesh fencing, such a feature of contemporary Christchurch. This is because of earthquake damage that still isn’t repaired. I poked around without success and then moved on. At this stage, it was a mild morning and I was enjoying seeing Riccarton on foot. It gave me lots of opportunity to look into little weedy patches of waste ground, flower beds and so on. One passer-by offered me a cigarette; he thought I must be scavenging for discarded cigarette butts—after all, what else could a grown man be doing groveling among the weeds.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I stopped for a coffee and hastily put on my waterproofs as a cold front swept through, and headed off up Mona Vale Road. Alongside the railway there was plenty of <i>Veronica persica</i> and <i>V. arvensis</i>, but nothing that looked like <i>V. polita</i>.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">At Mona Vale I knocked on the door of the gardeners’ lodge, where they were very helpful. Brian showed me the likely spots, especially where a long length of brick wall had fallen down, and is now colonised by Kenilworth ivy, <i>Cymbalaria muralis</i>. We didn’t find any <i>V. polita</i> and I felt guilty keeping Brian out in the pouring rain, so I carried on alone. And then, in the part shelter of a low box hedge beside the rose garden, there it was.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFI2VzX4T04psfEvslPqFTKK-whTZjO9TMgJtBzw15MScekATuUwftjr4DGHZOtXvxDb6W87Abn1bDV2yCN5mQMW-oQ9O6t7iUCrZlQ3D_V4vmHM2n6qQamJ1JCaEvx85N14mMAoirZRU/s1600/habit+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFI2VzX4T04psfEvslPqFTKK-whTZjO9TMgJtBzw15MScekATuUwftjr4DGHZOtXvxDb6W87Abn1bDV2yCN5mQMW-oQ9O6t7iUCrZlQ3D_V4vmHM2n6qQamJ1JCaEvx85N14mMAoirZRU/s1600/habit+small.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>V. polita</i> is very similar to <i>V. persica</i>, but it has a smaller, darker flower, and a smaller, rounder, and hairier fruit. I’ve put a couple of pieces out by the window to see if a flower will open.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikRZzq5g5BQDtn-vE2YSUxNc8fBfqPEWcN5Yi_R-rF4LK0Rf-YhSZHaF2OIa1BuN_R_qb-uYKXL63ZFBT_DDlC1gLv55aFiqwEhCo9sewiLIU1wxcnG0QoDqb7HJ98FwuEPl3kEyL4WXI/s1600/fl+and+lvs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikRZzq5g5BQDtn-vE2YSUxNc8fBfqPEWcN5Yi_R-rF4LK0Rf-YhSZHaF2OIa1BuN_R_qb-uYKXL63ZFBT_DDlC1gLv55aFiqwEhCo9sewiLIU1wxcnG0QoDqb7HJ98FwuEPl3kEyL4WXI/s1600/fl+and+lvs.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">The pedicels are strongly recurved at fruiting, and there's a tuft of hairs at the base of the calyx, also seen in <i>V. persica</i>. The capsule has rounded lobes; they're spreading and rather triangular in <i>V. persica</i>. This one's got a tooth on the side of one calyx lobe, which is a bit unusual.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAWBE6RqEFMrWUTVOp3up6pGW7BvZ6RHqorwjZyVqczui1u1-gZ0Vy0XY4hiGS84orGv1_Nn8v-uusS7sidwcnYWF5XZlP2SrhryqfGbBF-RdI7KMhONQziNON1o3cfmQpNEtLaRVikg/s1600/fruit+hairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAWBE6RqEFMrWUTVOp3up6pGW7BvZ6RHqorwjZyVqczui1u1-gZ0Vy0XY4hiGS84orGv1_Nn8v-uusS7sidwcnYWF5XZlP2SrhryqfGbBF-RdI7KMhONQziNON1o3cfmQpNEtLaRVikg/s1600/fruit+hairs.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">Tomorrow I'm off out to Banks Peninsula to look for <i>V. lavaudiana</i>, and to pick up some <i>V. hederifolia</i> at Lincoln on the way.</span></div>
Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-48540877969394068302014-03-26T00:15:00.000-07:002014-03-26T00:15:04.449-07:00Wednesday Wildflower: Oenothera acaulisWhen I was a little kid, I loved the Hans Christian Andersen <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ugly_Duckling">story of the ugly duckling</a>, a cygnet—teased by the ducklings for its ugliness—that turned into a beautiful swan. This wildflower reminded me of that story.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaY6nUEVsexRSivVwew3NjZESDDd4W3nDfgzXHq3-hjJudeoVJfqhi9zSZST8lIaKr9pGm4f6UqRisWrD1FJ5iLMi7wFDMBR4lUFszi0rR70pA5UdAFSZ8wnpP_qTVBKLTdVGe5gFdtLg/s1600/Oenaca+lvs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaY6nUEVsexRSivVwew3NjZESDDd4W3nDfgzXHq3-hjJudeoVJfqhi9zSZST8lIaKr9pGm4f6UqRisWrD1FJ5iLMi7wFDMBR4lUFszi0rR70pA5UdAFSZ8wnpP_qTVBKLTdVGe5gFdtLg/s1600/Oenaca+lvs.jpg" height="400" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oenothera acaulis </i>leaves (the left one with a seed capsule attached to the leaf axil)</td></tr>
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<i>Oenothera acaulis</i> sprawls across the ground; its weak stems can't seem to stand up straight. Its leaves are wrinkly and untidy, and look a bit like the leaves of many weedy plants. But when its huge white flowers open just as the sun is setting, it's a transformation. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziDM0NL5L9PqAev9Dvf-tSuWqwhxQFPdQauOfVR_IH4ezd-uNDo7oGMZ9RFKTLtRgquY7id-4CoJ-I1hxJDXrbjYDaZipjLtzNVn8xThfdrlFPN09OuXhv1anJyINNRhJ6gPShheKLLk/s1600/Oenaca+habit+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziDM0NL5L9PqAev9Dvf-tSuWqwhxQFPdQauOfVR_IH4ezd-uNDo7oGMZ9RFKTLtRgquY7id-4CoJ-I1hxJDXrbjYDaZipjLtzNVn8xThfdrlFPN09OuXhv1anJyINNRhJ6gPShheKLLk/s1600/Oenaca+habit+copy.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An <i>Oenothera acaulis</i> plant in flower.</td></tr>
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The flowers stay open for a day, then they turn pale pink and wither.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8q1Jnyf3Bn2_BVmu1XRRXq3iMV_1suY95eJkDIRxWESLTX_F6BoVGtMdBK0X9fDOH-NaicwwG1cO1kRpkXJIFgLJsj3_0sNWbatOMcpn1bRbiUkZoOezLcy9lTiSIX6-GXuV5r-6NDvk/s1600/Oenaca+flower+++hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8q1Jnyf3Bn2_BVmu1XRRXq3iMV_1suY95eJkDIRxWESLTX_F6BoVGtMdBK0X9fDOH-NaicwwG1cO1kRpkXJIFgLJsj3_0sNWbatOMcpn1bRbiUkZoOezLcy9lTiSIX6-GXuV5r-6NDvk/s1600/Oenaca+flower+++hand.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oenothera acaulis </i>flower.</td></tr>
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It's not strictly a <i>wild</i> flower in New Zealand, but a few people cultivate it. I got some seeds from the Christchurch Botanical Gardens for research on seed dispersal. It has established in my garden and this year's plants have come up of their own accord from seeds in soil where I planted it last year. Some botanists would count that as wild, but it's not the definition we used in <a href="http://floraseries.landcareresearch.co.nz/pages/Book.aspx?fileName=Flora%204.xml">Flora of New Zealand Vol. 4</a>, where crossing a boundary (such as into the neighbor's yard or onto the street reserve) was needed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRSSS-DYXiNMOJGfpbLa8KsmevoEBAl-1H8xGJ1HFSrbDxMgoneFVDRQpA-bhHZacdJmOHNUR_beemgMXhwrFF_cZ8lXy2saoWtrC2nhz7B0rO9b4Vvk4cfDnfkT7jL2bALVXVv3YdT8/s1600/Oenaca+flower+tube.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRSSS-DYXiNMOJGfpbLa8KsmevoEBAl-1H8xGJ1HFSrbDxMgoneFVDRQpA-bhHZacdJmOHNUR_beemgMXhwrFF_cZ8lXy2saoWtrC2nhz7B0rO9b4Vvk4cfDnfkT7jL2bALVXVv3YdT8/s1600/Oenaca+flower+tube.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oenothera acaulis </i>old flower withering and showing the 150 mm long floral tube.</td></tr>
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Anyway, these huge flowers open so quickly at sunset <a href="http://www.anniesannuals.com/plt_lst/lists/search/lst.srch.asp?prodid=741&srch_term=oenothera">you can watch them moving</a>. It's a beautiful sight. The style is very long and sits inside a long floral tube. The pollen has to grow all that way to reach the ovary. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqb4yeNVcGoUNfrbxlK04oobLvuyhZK2-ufQE-NnkyPIvMM99JOiySR07JY92rGbtt6vsfNmZHFaMqriCUX7LgupjLsPl927y0rUs-07_DN456nwYulQn92Qli27x0MApXaK1_5mOozQ/s1600/Oenaca+old+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqb4yeNVcGoUNfrbxlK04oobLvuyhZK2-ufQE-NnkyPIvMM99JOiySR07JY92rGbtt6vsfNmZHFaMqriCUX7LgupjLsPl927y0rUs-07_DN456nwYulQn92Qli27x0MApXaK1_5mOozQ/s1600/Oenaca+old+flower.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oenothera acaulis</i>: this old flower has turned pink as it withers</td></tr>
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My interest in <i>O. acaulis</i> began years ago when I grew some in Christchurch. I'd been working on the ice-plant family Aizoaceae and I noticed that the capsules of <i>O. acaulis</i> were stumpy and woody; they looked more like the capsules of Aizoaceae than the usual long and slender <i>Oenothera</i> capsules. So I wondered if they opened the same way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimodlXRzfvREz3yega00P8YY2mj1k9UBmpXXv8328baqTuFGGky5xo48MHSb59qct75Bi164v3mmMeZpdaom1hEe9Zc9MS-kubjhvQtkxoum_JfyKsE78Wo0EUWz6qi_II7PBx6la3qPg/s1600/Oenaca+young+fruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimodlXRzfvREz3yega00P8YY2mj1k9UBmpXXv8328baqTuFGGky5xo48MHSb59qct75Bi164v3mmMeZpdaom1hEe9Zc9MS-kubjhvQtkxoum_JfyKsE78Wo0EUWz6qi_II7PBx6la3qPg/s1600/Oenaca+young+fruit.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oenothera acaulis </i>unopened fruit.</td></tr>
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Most Aizoaceae have an unusual method of capsule opening; it's called <a href="http://books.google.co.nz/books?id=8zLlxBJ8m-EC&pg=PA3&lpg=PA3&dq=aizoaceae+hygrochastic+capsule&source=bl&ots=-lG91VmToC&sig=teEuCDT14R_-WxKWbutA7y5i4mI&hl=en&sa=X&ei=encyU9_mBoPzkAWupYGICg&ved=0CDkQ6AEwAg#v=onepage&q=aizoaceae%20hygrochastic%20capsule&f=false">hygrochasy</a>. Hygrochastic capsules open when they're wet. Most ice plants live in the deserts of South Africa and Namibia, and wetting their capsules causes special tissues, called expanding keels, to swell. The expanding keels are attached to a non-swelling resistance tissue and their swelling generates curvature in the capsule walls that forces the capsules open. Other ice-plants have more complex add-ons that help to <a href="http://www.asknature.org/strategy/1def34b764cd9ae1ade09124999bc446">splash the seeds out of the capsules using the energy of falling rain-drops</a>.<br />
<br />
So I picked a couple of <i>Oenothera</i> capsules and dropped them into a glass of water. Within 15–20 minutes they opened fully. That's a fairly slow rate of opening, but it's about what the ice-plants do. It's thought to be a mechanism that ensures they won't open until enough rain has fallen to enable the seeds to germinate and establish.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTqeVTQ3qCzedQmlXnsF9sCUaUUDAJHnHA2GYXXmYYWgQV5mkDd3CQFv8pVWpKZny3RNp5GASfcgrjdpdUUaM63OkQX7Bybpf4-xSF6cZ328ijypA2xS6V5YlVbDt8a0_zcA3Zga4IeA/s1600/Oenaca+TS+fruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTqeVTQ3qCzedQmlXnsF9sCUaUUDAJHnHA2GYXXmYYWgQV5mkDd3CQFv8pVWpKZny3RNp5GASfcgrjdpdUUaM63OkQX7Bybpf4-xSF6cZ328ijypA2xS6V5YlVbDt8a0_zcA3Zga4IeA/s1600/Oenaca+TS+fruit.jpg" height="388" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oenothera acaulis</i> cross section of a capsule</td></tr>
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<i>Oenothera</i> capsules don't have expanding keels, but they do have four spongy internal walls (bright and pale above), and running up each of their four sides is a rigid woody vein (brown above). The spongy walls swell when they take up water and the rigid vein constrains the swelling to force the capsule open. In the enlarged photo below, the rigid vein is on the right, characterised by rows of thick-walled cells; the cells of the capsule's internal walls are spongy and can expand when they're wetted. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAw4UFLD3O9IqIxTGgjqisFCP2b1wRr-QF8eQgqgaUVHqX3KFHkYDjkS_LWBYhjPl0-kaH-trQf8jSh3EOdggriSVkQCx4S78G5uH4sOhnbSg6EbhKUMAxCynrwsemw8KSHxsDg5K6iY/s1600/Oenaca+TS+vein+&+exp+tissue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAw4UFLD3O9IqIxTGgjqisFCP2b1wRr-QF8eQgqgaUVHqX3KFHkYDjkS_LWBYhjPl0-kaH-trQf8jSh3EOdggriSVkQCx4S78G5uH4sOhnbSg6EbhKUMAxCynrwsemw8KSHxsDg5K6iY/s1600/Oenaca+TS+vein+&+exp+tissue.jpg" height="258" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oenothera acaulis</i> cross section of a capsule, enlarged, and viewed under polarised light and filters to show cell arrangements and thickened walls.</td></tr>
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<i><br /></i>
This is the only time I've been scooped in my research, because while we were writing the paper about this, German botanist Hans-Dieter Poppendieck published a thorough account of fruit opening in <i>O. acaulis</i> (Poppendieck 1995). He also came to this through noting the similarity with Aizoaceae.<br />
<br />
Like the ice-plants of Africa, <i>O. acaulis</i> is also a desert plant, but it's from South America. It's a remarkable example of parallel evolution, where the same function has evolved twice in unrelated plants, and the two plants have achieved the same result in ways that are structurally very different.<br />
<br />
Also, this is a plant that can move, both when its flowers open rapidly at dusk and when its fruits open on a rainy day. It's the "ugly duckling" of the plant world.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>References</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Poppendieck, H.-H. 1995. Hygrochastic capsules in <span style="font-style: italic;">Oenothera
</span>(Onagraceae). <span style="font-style: italic;">Mitteilungen aus dem Institut fuer Allgemeine Botanik
Hamburg </span>25: 99–115. </span><br />
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Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-89098212199646872132014-03-06T01:25:00.000-08:002014-03-06T01:25:06.848-08:00Wednesday Wildflower: Viola banksiiIn New Zealand we have three native and 5 naturalised violets. One of the naturalised ones is from Australia, identified in the <a href="http://floraseries.landcareresearch.co.nz/pages/Book.aspx?fileName=Flora%204.xml">1988 Flora</a> as <i>Viola hederacea</i>. It's occasionally cultivated, and because it's stoloniferous it tends to spread and occasionally escapes to become naturalised. So I was delighted on a trip to Australia last December to see a similar plant growing in the wild, in the hills inland from the Sunshine Coast.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWLnBBGcP5tnl-kjKtua0YmCaYtI832iS0_zUyy0w8ek011jdHfUZBdNTb57iM4HB-XzEqg-JuAP2yLosUnRO4Tckr8G6vunDJi7W-tqJCYi1mbU3BGCIDHioamHM3I25fugTZ7c5_oI/s1600/Viola+banksii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWLnBBGcP5tnl-kjKtua0YmCaYtI832iS0_zUyy0w8ek011jdHfUZBdNTb57iM4HB-XzEqg-JuAP2yLosUnRO4Tckr8G6vunDJi7W-tqJCYi1mbU3BGCIDHioamHM3I25fugTZ7c5_oI/s1600/Viola+banksii.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Viola banksii </i>in the hills near Maroochydore, Queensland</td></tr>
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I took some photos, and posted this one on Facebook, but my Melbourne University friend and colleague Michael Bayly politely suggested that this plant is more likely to be <i>Viola banksii</i>. It seems <i>Viola hederacea</i> is a complex of several species and it has been divided up fairly recently. I just tucked that information away in my mind and carried on. Incidentally when photographing that violet, here's the view if you stand up and turn around to face the other way:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHT8uz_l-nLHb7CLeRKKGrR-WAG5zyqOSZOWPs60ymqT3f7SzKcjSTFAfS-aKnmW2sL1KW0u1zLilJ_amqJocZ_QnFY0eUklJKMzSKXkhZjTDoEfsjyLaGpUFRQXVVCppL2EyqxkitTwc/s1600/Glasshouse+Mts+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHT8uz_l-nLHb7CLeRKKGrR-WAG5zyqOSZOWPs60ymqT3f7SzKcjSTFAfS-aKnmW2sL1KW0u1zLilJ_amqJocZ_QnFY0eUklJKMzSKXkhZjTDoEfsjyLaGpUFRQXVVCppL2EyqxkitTwc/s1600/Glasshouse+Mts+small.jpg" height="243" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glasshouse Mts, Queensland.</td></tr>
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Last weekend I was out walking and saw what looked like the same violet growing in a suburban garden in Wellington. It was overhanging the footpath enough that I deemed it permissible to steal a little bit to photograph and to grow on in the garden at home. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvR8XChCNNRZ131-AFufbBV4HsmQHTvW5XK1KCy6RfnBbqsOC2Kr1PrWj-jAqVcZ3HOPqVCRPzo2cZ4DAt4ZhU33v6Aio7Qr0pn5f530HxCWmwtAU1wUilyKaCKVC6CFbhAuyS9QICLQs/s1600/DSC_4024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvR8XChCNNRZ131-AFufbBV4HsmQHTvW5XK1KCy6RfnBbqsOC2Kr1PrWj-jAqVcZ3HOPqVCRPzo2cZ4DAt4ZhU33v6Aio7Qr0pn5f530HxCWmwtAU1wUilyKaCKVC6CFbhAuyS9QICLQs/s1600/DSC_4024.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Viola banksii</i>, cultivated, Karori, Wellington, New Zealand.</td></tr>
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Using the <a href="http://plantnet.rbgsyd.nsw.gov.au/cgi-bin/NSWfl.pl?page=nswfl&lvl=gn&name=Viola">key Mike recommended</a> and a recent paper in <i>Austrobaileya</i> (Little and Leiper 2013), I was able to satisfy myself that this is indeed <i>V. banksii</i> and not <i>V. hederacea</i>. It doesn't necessarily mean the naturalised one is the same species though; I'll have to check the specimens next time I visit the <a href="http://www.landcareresearch.co.nz/resources/collections/allan-herbarium">Allan Herbarium</a> at Landcare Research.<br />
<br />
Reference.<br />
Little, RJ; Leiper G, 2013. <i>Viola perreniformis</i> (L.G.Adams) R.J.Little & G.Leiper, stat. nov., with notes on Australian species in <i>Viola</i> section <i>Erpetion</i> (Violaceae). <i>Austrobaileya 9</i>: 80–101.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-50557309173037398592014-02-10T20:15:00.000-08:002014-02-10T20:15:05.175-08:00The Day We Fight Back<span style="font-size: large;">Websites all over the world are protesting today (11 Feb 2014) about surveillance of the internet, email, telephones, and other communications by government agencies of the USA, UK, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Most are carrying a banner. I have joined the protest in spirit, but I couldn't figure out how to paste in the code that would generate the banner on my blog, so instead I'm writing this explanation and putting in a <a href="https://thedaywefightback.org/">link here</a> that explains the protest and its aims.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For New Zealanders, I note that one political party has already <a href="https://www.greens.org.nz/press-releases/greens-go-all-black-internet-freedom">promised</a> to repeal the latest spy legislation and to close the Waihopai spy base.</span>Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-73376990158492350092014-02-09T15:39:00.000-08:002014-02-09T15:40:15.839-08:00Fruiting karakaKaraka (<i>Corynocarpus laevigatus</i>) is a small New Zealand tree with large fleshy fruits. It's interesting for a number of reasons. Its fruits were an important <a href="http://blog.tepapa.govt.nz/2011/07/08/plants-cultivatd-by-maori/">food resource</a> for Māori but the kernels had to be treated to remove the toxins they contain. It's become a <a href="http://www.hear.org/gcw/species/corynocarpus_laevigatus/">weed</a> in some parts of the world. Some botanists consider it a weed <a href="http://www.academia.edu/609237/The_endemic_tree_Corynocarpus_laevigatus_karaka_as_a_weedy_invader_in_forest_remnants_of_southern_North_Island_New_Zealand">within New Zealand</a> too, when it becomes invasive outside its presumed native <a href="http://blog.tepapa.govt.nz/2013/07/09/re-planting-new-zealand/">range</a> or habitats.<br />
<br />
Right now, karaka trees are fruiting heavily. But not all of them. Some trees are covered in fruit and others have none or very few. Some years ago, I wondered if this meant they had separate sexes, and was able to show that this is the explanation (Garnock-Jones et al. 2007). Male trees do produce a few fruits, so the sexual system in karaka is best described as gynodioecy (some plants strictly female; others are inconstant males).<br />
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Here are the two trees that started this research off, photographed this month in Kelburn.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik7kctxAhwfitKbJOv2MHwNdHbZB7YkHdXRq6Le9xB5hsIPVc89AD7DI4WqvH9mNT3y7KdKFd7F37osWMAmSU4yNUkRsCZGnkD9Cpp4dLvVOjCIpBR_L05kFsZYTIxJgGg_LqDVHUUqOg/s1600/male&female+trees+in+fruit+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik7kctxAhwfitKbJOv2MHwNdHbZB7YkHdXRq6Le9xB5hsIPVc89AD7DI4WqvH9mNT3y7KdKFd7F37osWMAmSU4yNUkRsCZGnkD9Cpp4dLvVOjCIpBR_L05kFsZYTIxJgGg_LqDVHUUqOg/s1600/male&female+trees+in+fruit+small.jpg" height="281" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karaka trees in fruit, Kelburn, Wellington, 2014</td></tr>
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Here are the same two trees about 10 years ago.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbR5HeBKhQKjHwO8-mAiCaBs7BSWFz-3g1V9f14voZ1t_QQBe6uVE5lv7n6vX4BWSO0damKJ6Qb-l0T6IMNiFqz1dsjP9KoSCPQEM5HBO67jMs5py47CG_MTDBzhjKcqdiO1gNga8exM/s1600/karaka+fruits+from+paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbR5HeBKhQKjHwO8-mAiCaBs7BSWFz-3g1V9f14voZ1t_QQBe6uVE5lv7n6vX4BWSO0damKJ6Qb-l0T6IMNiFqz1dsjP9KoSCPQEM5HBO67jMs5py47CG_MTDBzhjKcqdiO1gNga8exM/s1600/karaka+fruits+from+paper.jpg" height="256" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karaka trees in fruit, Kelburn, Wellington, 1998 (from Garnock-Jones et al., 2007)</td></tr>
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On the female tree, the panicles fruit heavily, with many of the flowers (but by no means all) developing fruits.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyA77N6IglLT8twK4ixKQwhQIWKVpOxk0MhnPRZmQVPKVMuIhKbkIeXCoJOB4YF_MqKtQD-UyJ26GitSDWjxpbtRk11YX0VoTyv0lT69Qimnx_FiWJFL-vEYKlweSZjzgP-QEiQHRJco/s1600/fruits+on+female+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyA77N6IglLT8twK4ixKQwhQIWKVpOxk0MhnPRZmQVPKVMuIhKbkIeXCoJOB4YF_MqKtQD-UyJ26GitSDWjxpbtRk11YX0VoTyv0lT69Qimnx_FiWJFL-vEYKlweSZjzgP-QEiQHRJco/s1600/fruits+on+female+small.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fruits on a female karaka tree</td></tr>
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<br />
On males, usually a single fruit develops on each of a few panicles.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTg9txM8r_-c_gzSgt6dOpUQsED_TxQc8aqMZWF3NSBFmJ3rIKuRirMfDBO0v6t_oMQOBnV3XO-vHUSfSwS7JbsBMYwDLS7fhYKAwlY_HbEAcP5eaJadYx56x_xxL9JvGJfxulh4Q3jk/s1600/fruits+on+male+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTg9txM8r_-c_gzSgt6dOpUQsED_TxQc8aqMZWF3NSBFmJ3rIKuRirMfDBO0v6t_oMQOBnV3XO-vHUSfSwS7JbsBMYwDLS7fhYKAwlY_HbEAcP5eaJadYx56x_xxL9JvGJfxulh4Q3jk/s1600/fruits+on+male+small.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fruits on a male karaka tree</td></tr>
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Karaka flowers are small and white, but if you look closely you can tell the male from the female flowers. The male flowers are actually about twice the diameter of females, open more widely, and have pollen in their anthers. The male flowers in the photo have pollen on the stigmas, but only very few of them will produce fruits.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimWPMda2Gz9NzlP08sGfPDCd7yemo7wvRx7dvfAH0KJ3t9HPfKyOy6hEfdIdqnXcM8yjXwXimg78PQpTqe13Ht-Lj2qJcMHeRAQORDhEJaf4VTRBA-zwO3XfcKf1PJqHnE-Doq8h5w0E/s1600/karaka+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimWPMda2Gz9NzlP08sGfPDCd7yemo7wvRx7dvfAH0KJ3t9HPfKyOy6hEfdIdqnXcM8yjXwXimg78PQpTqe13Ht-Lj2qJcMHeRAQORDhEJaf4VTRBA-zwO3XfcKf1PJqHnE-Doq8h5w0E/s1600/karaka+flowers.jpg" height="195" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karaka flowers. On a female tree (left); male tree (right)</td></tr>
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<b>Reference</b>.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Garnock-Jones PJ, Brockie RE, FitzJohn RG 2007. <span style="vertical-align: 4pt;"> </span>Gynodioecy, sexual dimorphism and erratic fruiting
in <i>Corynocarpus laevigatus</i> (Corynocarpaceae). <i>Australian Journal of Botany 55</i>: 803–808.</span><br />
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<br />Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-58987731603136306752014-01-28T09:44:00.000-08:002014-01-28T09:44:19.915-08:00Wednesday Wildflower: tarweedTarweed is flowering at the moment. <i>Parentucellia viscosa</i> is an erect herb with small yellow flowers and its leaves are covered with glandular hairs so dense they feel sticky to the touch. You'll see it in damp patches beside roads and tracks, along the edges of ditches, and wet hollows in grassland.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKbZAtKuLEa2NgSwMx_gyijXKGSYXB6UFEuRM9urO5g353LJNbpTQ4czGsGtRy5Sl-CxUEmfxHW3ZboTzJrzPRQjoHIoN22wztE6dwsHhY9LAeCvdqe7nxRWta9NUW9UK9FHeBdq2R68/s1600/Parvis+habit+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKbZAtKuLEa2NgSwMx_gyijXKGSYXB6UFEuRM9urO5g353LJNbpTQ4czGsGtRy5Sl-CxUEmfxHW3ZboTzJrzPRQjoHIoN22wztE6dwsHhY9LAeCvdqe7nxRWta9NUW9UK9FHeBdq2R68/s1600/Parvis+habit+small.jpg" height="640" width="347" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarweed, P<i>arentucellia viscosa</i>, Karori, Wellington</td></tr>
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It's a hemiparasite, which means it derives some of its nutrients parasitically from other plants, but it's also green and able to generate its own energy through photosynthesis. Full parasites (holoparasites) usually lose the ability to photosynthesise and to make green pigments, so they are often brown or pale.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4faFMgM6AdwrNexkIv2Nq0xpC4O5AHcAte7AzWYnz6gZguDesvZRifOEf6SKb-ZxB8cjV4rK6fs7fFD0Und1yNPXeVxnU7AoHodI_OdX8lC6E4VC_qCkk_OiLFOJEHMQ43FtgJYLf-v4/s1600/Parvis+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4faFMgM6AdwrNexkIv2Nq0xpC4O5AHcAte7AzWYnz6gZguDesvZRifOEf6SKb-ZxB8cjV4rK6fs7fFD0Und1yNPXeVxnU7AoHodI_OdX8lC6E4VC_qCkk_OiLFOJEHMQ43FtgJYLf-v4/s1600/Parvis+flower.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarweed flower.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's related to <i><a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2011/08/bright-eyes.html">Euphrasia</a></i>, another genus of hemiparasites, of which we have a large number of native species in New Zealand, and to the introduced broomrape, <i>Orobanche</i>, which are holoparasites.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFwPRwxEWq4_DSRV3dkneyRIpQ0kByahr9_nKaV2CjNm2wXfReNRRDHx1nH9Nf4CRkQI0wuN5FMw_wJeUpwZPRo5UDWjbceve_DqZ7cf7ygARNKLl8Bv7QuM2q872ljLwwnQqb3znRss/s1600/Oromin+4+blog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFwPRwxEWq4_DSRV3dkneyRIpQ0kByahr9_nKaV2CjNm2wXfReNRRDHx1nH9Nf4CRkQI0wuN5FMw_wJeUpwZPRo5UDWjbceve_DqZ7cf7ygARNKLl8Bv7QuM2q872ljLwwnQqb3znRss/s1600/Oromin+4+blog.png" height="193" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Orobanche minor</i>, broomrape, near Nelson.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The hemiparasites <i>Parentucellia</i> and <i>Euphrasia</i> used to be classified along with <i>Veronica</i> in the family Scrophulariaceae, but it was discovered a decade or so ago ago that Scrophulariaceae as it was then drawn up wasn't a natural group (of related plants). So that previously large family has been split up. <i>Veronica</i> was transferred to be classified with its relative <i>Plantago</i> (Plantaginaceae), and <i>Parentucellia</i> and <i>Euphrasia</i> joined their relatives the broomrapes in Orobanchaceae.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmXolys5dNdpz-KGndWVz_mwy8xSNUCGz4dIBvf816vc0pgzhhNG8Tv1_0ESqsC0m6qTN86Pif0l1sMDySwKRO-vCixrLikAs4q3qsVJc5FQIIAYzGp5ds8lsf_7WGhLgYnVRwu8BEbaQ/s1600/Myolae+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmXolys5dNdpz-KGndWVz_mwy8xSNUCGz4dIBvf816vc0pgzhhNG8Tv1_0ESqsC0m6qTN86Pif0l1sMDySwKRO-vCixrLikAs4q3qsVJc5FQIIAYzGp5ds8lsf_7WGhLgYnVRwu8BEbaQ/s1600/Myolae+small.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ngaio, <i>Myoporum laetum</i>, Wellington</td></tr>
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Although Scrophulariaceae has been dismembered into 7–10 different families to make a more natural classification, it still exists as a much smaller family, many of them African. Our only native member is <i>Myoporum, </i><a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2013/10/new-associations-good-and-bad.html">ngaio</a>.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-7650629753307397592013-12-14T23:51:00.001-08:002013-12-14T23:52:28.867-08:00The Great Veronica Hunt —Part 6.I'm writing this in Melbourne, where I'm about to fly home after a wonderful three weeks in <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.com.au/2013/11/wednesday-wildflower-diddillibah.html">Australia</a>. I wasn't specifically on a <i><a href="http://nzprn.otago.ac.nz/wiki/NZPRN/TaxaVeronica">Veronica</a></i> hunt, but kept my eyes open anyway, just in case.<br />
<br />
I didn't see any <i>Veronica</i> in Queensland or around Sydney. The first I saw was the introduced <i>V. arvensis</i> in Bega, a small New South Wales town. Australia has many of the same weedy speedwells that New Zealand does, so I was more interested to see plants of the indigenous species.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5enDHdiCoY-WI_TMUadNFmR8alJ3JOmYBSe06Qke6k0i2ra6dniaASyN60-_65MxX9FrEIUWwZItWvYyU6Ckfq_UZ5HbRG0RVLy7MOxjntS4E9SuoG2P08pD9z_XJo8AL013kENeC97o/s1600/Mallacoota+temp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5enDHdiCoY-WI_TMUadNFmR8alJ3JOmYBSe06Qke6k0i2ra6dniaASyN60-_65MxX9FrEIUWwZItWvYyU6Ckfq_UZ5HbRG0RVLy7MOxjntS4E9SuoG2P08pD9z_XJo8AL013kENeC97o/s400/Mallacoota+temp.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mallacoota inlet, Vic.</td></tr>
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We spent a couple of days with friends at <a href="http://www.visitmallacoota.com.au/">Mallacoota</a> in the far east of Victoria, and there came across <i>V. plebeia</i> growing beside a track in coastal forest in the wonderfully-named Croajingalong National Park.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2KMXxDVY9V3sjc0pjZ1fZ-eaFnHQ_FkN-DrlGVXu-h8QPsTsz-1Em4R6beAXU48XVmKOYKfN1mEwLCfK5QfshQaE0FFwSf9qaK9zt41hzA1iHcjstaIEon2BjiPnsfZw2AMbUXBMqok/s1600/Verple+4+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2KMXxDVY9V3sjc0pjZ1fZ-eaFnHQ_FkN-DrlGVXu-h8QPsTsz-1Em4R6beAXU48XVmKOYKfN1mEwLCfK5QfshQaE0FFwSf9qaK9zt41hzA1iHcjstaIEon2BjiPnsfZw2AMbUXBMqok/s400/Verple+4+blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica plebeia</i>, Mallacoota, Vic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The flowers were closed just as they often are in New Zealand, needing a warm sunny day to open. If they don't get to open, I assume they self-pollinate, because they always seem to set fruits.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSWUPibzyJjNt0JUO2rjG2fQZu3Dy05hMzXxayWWcsFODI7LZ0Ifkn_HXmF5_Svi-YqoqnbOpET0K38hCKojTSubTVStJHDaAt3KLUxhJ-d4SGAcWmMFXuwRS4NHhImhdEpG3nmDotS8/s1600/Verple+4+blog+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSWUPibzyJjNt0JUO2rjG2fQZu3Dy05hMzXxayWWcsFODI7LZ0Ifkn_HXmF5_Svi-YqoqnbOpET0K38hCKojTSubTVStJHDaAt3KLUxhJ-d4SGAcWmMFXuwRS4NHhImhdEpG3nmDotS8/s400/Verple+4+blog+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The flower below was photographed on a cultivated plant in New Zealand, where <i>V. plebeia</i> is widespread and <a href="http://www.nzpcn.org.nz/flora_search.aspx?scfSubmit=1&scfStart_Results=&scfFlora_Category=&scfLatin_Name=veronica+plebeia&scfCommon_Name=&scfFamily_Name=&scfDistrict=&scfAncestry=&scfFlora_Structural_Class=&scfFlora_Status=">considered by some botanists to be native</a>. It is introduced and weedy in some other parts of the world though, so it does have the ability to be invasive.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRTVYRZP0bZ6eCB9wHg2cyALJs1C9j47XNIwCm0Hj8gk65sOnK0VyYvlrme8nTjn0bV7nxhFw_jZ-OEdnfFB8LfvjwGcXF8G1ymRbQRpaQn9PpoDOmvLuKiNfKTCq4ZgybdKYi2bgSZA/s1600/Verple+4+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRTVYRZP0bZ6eCB9wHg2cyALJs1C9j47XNIwCm0Hj8gk65sOnK0VyYvlrme8nTjn0bV7nxhFw_jZ-OEdnfFB8LfvjwGcXF8G1ymRbQRpaQn9PpoDOmvLuKiNfKTCq4ZgybdKYi2bgSZA/s400/Verple+4+blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica plebeia</i>, from a cultivated plant in New Zealand.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That was it for wild speedwells the whole trip, but my sister-in-law, near Ballarat, had some small plants of another Australian native, <i>Veronica gracilis,</i> ready to plant out in the garden, and one of these was in flower. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6aw6MP40J638qmf265y2OBlA1I3phRI8HbnEuHQikSt2Ikk4C9kIe2YqdcflKW2dWg7DtvOPyijAIkZmQNwSbSJGplUeZNXsSlexA7b88n2XpyaK7ujcqcmUMGk6_Dp7PmvwPQncl1jk/s1600/Vergra+4+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6aw6MP40J638qmf265y2OBlA1I3phRI8HbnEuHQikSt2Ikk4C9kIe2YqdcflKW2dWg7DtvOPyijAIkZmQNwSbSJGplUeZNXsSlexA7b88n2XpyaK7ujcqcmUMGk6_Dp7PmvwPQncl1jk/s400/Vergra+4+blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica gracilis</i>, cultivated near Ballarat, Vic.</td></tr>
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The plants are strongly rhizomatous, and this one even had a shoot coming out of the drainage hole in the bottom of its pot.<br />
<br />
Australia has 23 native species of <i>Veronica</i>, classified in section<i> Labiatoides</i>, and they are the sister group to the large New Zealand clade (section <i>Hebe</i>) that includes the hebes and their relatives (Albach & Briggs 2012). Thus, although they look much more like northern speedwells than New Zealand hebes, they are known to be more closely related to the hebes. And because of that fact, it's misleading to classify them as <i>Veronica</i> unless you classify <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.com.au/2011/08/dont-judge-plant-by-appearances.html">our hebes in <i>Veronica</i></a> as well.<br />
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<b>Reference</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: OptimaBold;">Albach, D; Briggs, BG. 2012. Phylogenetic analysis of Australian species of </span><span style="font-family: OptimaBoldItalic;"><i>Veronica</i>
</span><span style="font-family: OptimaBold;">(</span><span style="font-family: OptimaBoldItalic;"><i>V</i></span><span style="font-family: OptimaBold;">. section </span><span style="font-family: OptimaBoldItalic;"><i>Labiatoides</i></span><span style="font-family: OptimaBold;">; Plantaginaceae). </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS; font-style: italic;">Australian Systematic Botany</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS;">, 2012, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS; font-weight: 700;">25</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS;">, 353</span><span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRomanPS+20';">–</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS;">363</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS;">http://dx.doi.org/10.1071/SB12014</span><br />
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Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-74251007209932517642013-11-27T00:37:00.002-08:002013-11-27T00:38:25.703-08:00Wednesday wildflower: Diddillibah wildflowers.<div class="p1">
This week I’m on the Sunshine Coast, Queensland, visiting family before the <a href="http://www.systematics2013.org/">Australasian Systematic Botany Society</a>’s conference in Sydney next week. We arrived last night and this morning took a short walk to get a feel for our surroundings, from Diddillibah to the Maroochy River and back.</div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwl2l00jmS4G9rqzLIj1wgukuv8FeMixTX7JK7UZBfsiNZ4P6uNRw3REgGB_iZzLzCVFYUVkn_TdtwzLPHyM56LpwEQmgew8QOlZLN1P2jBibTUQuC-o8o6fq5bdmOpiPBeuvm57LBOc/s1600/Maroochy+River+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwl2l00jmS4G9rqzLIj1wgukuv8FeMixTX7JK7UZBfsiNZ4P6uNRw3REgGB_iZzLzCVFYUVkn_TdtwzLPHyM56LpwEQmgew8QOlZLN1P2jBibTUQuC-o8o6fq5bdmOpiPBeuvm57LBOc/s400/Maroochy+River+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maroochy River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p2">
We haven’t seen much natural vegetation yet, but plenty of wildflowers and a few native Eucalypts and she-oaks.<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSnTvnm3MFe_9pieCW_p1HmMJbtcceSvbONBxcld95OuUph23PC9qumiTuH8fxIF2_SYFoy0gxstMLY0ggZy_TrOP5Vimd1NEWTGd0sZvGsVhQPEtvHtfX1Rz-T37lef3ALQD57p2lUkU/s1600/Avimar+Maroochy+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSnTvnm3MFe_9pieCW_p1HmMJbtcceSvbONBxcld95OuUph23PC9qumiTuH8fxIF2_SYFoy0gxstMLY0ggZy_TrOP5Vimd1NEWTGd0sZvGsVhQPEtvHtfX1Rz-T37lef3ALQD57p2lUkU/s400/Avimar+Maroochy+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mangroves, Maroochy River.</td></tr>
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<div class="p2">
Along the river are mangroves, which I assume are the same as we have in New Zealand, <i>Avicennia marina</i>. It reaches its southern limit—and the southern limit of mangroves generally—at Corner Inlet, Victoria. Here, in the warmer climate, they grow taller.<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyEesfOioUOA9GfboRnWgzFDhpEjLT3zZ0DgdG4jZ1BrsSvDMA-T-LsTN6zDcty_r00gUd5vpyEWi4h8jDH3K6U6gTnsQAxMNCsCkjY6Yns-IFv-TSO66wQL_0cnDPy_n3P2KtD0FFoI/s1600/Amyema:Casuarina+habit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyEesfOioUOA9GfboRnWgzFDhpEjLT3zZ0DgdG4jZ1BrsSvDMA-T-LsTN6zDcty_r00gUd5vpyEWi4h8jDH3K6U6gTnsQAxMNCsCkjY6Yns-IFv-TSO66wQL_0cnDPy_n3P2KtD0FFoI/s400/Amyema:Casuarina+habit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mistletoe in a <i>Casuarina</i> tree.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p2">
There were mistletoes in the she-oak (<i>Casuarina</i>) trees near the river.<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUs-jM8wWSSS3kcm9XcHjaU_f6pVosheF0TAv8YXjWnZYhIB-76A1k8U59k6rijGOrE4Im-D5d4yAmL-LYBM8NxP5KNPCTtZG0w5VV8zKypsn7dq9M4vqQK-WSo6wbW2h_4otLKT4Z4sY/s1600/Amyema+fls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUs-jM8wWSSS3kcm9XcHjaU_f6pVosheF0TAv8YXjWnZYhIB-76A1k8U59k6rijGOrE4Im-D5d4yAmL-LYBM8NxP5KNPCTtZG0w5VV8zKypsn7dq9M4vqQK-WSo6wbW2h_4otLKT4Z4sY/s400/Amyema+fls.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mistletoe flower buds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p2">
I think this little weed is <i>Emilia sonchifolia</i>, something I’ve collected before, in Singapore; at least I think it’s the same. <span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd60kR6HlY9PuXbrxhhMtecDoLRPwGD-DWFyL8bSkDE2rG-VOSUoFUgdNJojocQqIb9ezWfFbavHlrehq8brcw8UOVoetrpCnxkyoA-idwMcd2-LzctDkVKuByzwK59rebRtXgZXo_yGM/s1600/Emison+Maroochydore+habit+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd60kR6HlY9PuXbrxhhMtecDoLRPwGD-DWFyL8bSkDE2rG-VOSUoFUgdNJojocQqIb9ezWfFbavHlrehq8brcw8UOVoetrpCnxkyoA-idwMcd2-LzctDkVKuByzwK59rebRtXgZXo_yGM/s400/Emison+Maroochydore+habit+copy.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Emilia sonchifolia</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Its resemblance to sow-thistle (<i>Sonchus</i>) is remarkable, but it’s convergence, because this isn’t in the same tribe.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqt0JgZZyBXCchVEUKqZp8Zud6U3wqvmnsHhGKS-UdYZ0K07SA4k5C-eQE1EdYJ5XUzIUQl4JpDbPAstdqf-_uCrA8Hz1kPUMna_UBd21C4C7an21dOqgg_rTOmmCJQ2Rq8pYMN5uF_c/s1600/Emison+Maroochydore+head2+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqt0JgZZyBXCchVEUKqZp8Zud6U3wqvmnsHhGKS-UdYZ0K07SA4k5C-eQE1EdYJ5XUzIUQl4JpDbPAstdqf-_uCrA8Hz1kPUMna_UBd21C4C7an21dOqgg_rTOmmCJQ2Rq8pYMN5uF_c/s400/Emison+Maroochydore+head2+copy.jpg" width="332" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Emilia sonchifolia </i>flower head.</td></tr>
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The single row of involucral bracts is characteristic of tribe Senecioneae, whereas <i>Sonchus</i> is in the Lactuceae.<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilSrHN8r864G-dZzByO29ig2ZNCxCEklAq5CSwBSqHhxbkTzDbGx7Z4D6r3RMODQZdiUJC4zK1QFP2tjCGzFekOfuBQM5Nwrx7jw8CqhtcJSZaqMI7OeozxgzQCiiw77HQEW37-AlIv6A/s1600/pelican+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilSrHN8r864G-dZzByO29ig2ZNCxCEklAq5CSwBSqHhxbkTzDbGx7Z4D6r3RMODQZdiUJC4zK1QFP2tjCGzFekOfuBQM5Nwrx7jw8CqhtcJSZaqMI7OeozxgzQCiiw77HQEW37-AlIv6A/s320/pelican+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">And there was a pelican on the river. Nice.</span></div>
Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-91699177718079082472013-11-12T20:11:00.001-08:002013-11-20T10:54:47.563-08:00A new classification for the southern beeches.<span style="float: left; padding: 5px;"><a href="http://www.researchblogging.org/"><img alt="ResearchBlogging.org" src="http://www.researchblogging.org/public/citation_icons/rb2_large_gray.png" style="border: 0;" /></a></span><br />
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<span class="s1">In New Zealand, the forest we typically identify with—</span><span class="s2">the “bush”—</span><span class="s1"> is the lowland mixed conifer-angiosperm forest, with a canopy usually of angiosperm trees like tawa (<i>Beilschmiedia tawa</i>) or kamahi (<i>Weinmannia racemosa</i>) and large emergent conifers of the southern families Podocarpaceae (e.g., rimu, <i>Dacrydium cupressinum</i>) and Araucariaceae (i.e., kauri, <i>Agathis australis</i>). But in most montane parts of the South Island (<i>Te Wai Pounamu</i>) and on often drier ridges and hill country of the North Island (<i>Te Ika A Māui</i>), a very different type of forest is dominant. This forest comprises a uniform canopy of often a single species of southern beech. Usually the forest doesn’t have a dense understory, giving an open and well-lit appearance to the interior. This is just as much an iconic New Zealand forest as the “bush”, and one that’s familiar to many trampers.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsR-20Zmul_LxKq2eTcURllpTvDbiwNLpTwhpEflGylU4OfoRuLJcBK8XFnAbvehDBz2F5UqyA6u51rF1j5OC-0hyUB9dZSGyA7tj9u-dN2nT5EaNFDs1eFHgUkI4A9nUiT5bjfuUdapw/s1600/Nottru(Orongo).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsR-20Zmul_LxKq2eTcURllpTvDbiwNLpTwhpEflGylU4OfoRuLJcBK8XFnAbvehDBz2F5UqyA6u51rF1j5OC-0hyUB9dZSGyA7tj9u-dN2nT5EaNFDs1eFHgUkI4A9nUiT5bjfuUdapw/s640/Nottru(Orongo).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Southern beech forest, Orongorongo Valley, near Wellington</td></tr>
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<div class="p1">
Similar forests are found in the southern part of South America, so that travelers there from New Zealand often feel it’s just like home. Southern beech forest also occurs in Australia, New Guinea and New Caledonia. It’s known from fossils in Antarctica too, going back to the Cretaceous, as well as in many of the places where it still occurs today.</div>
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<br />
The southern beeches were originally classified in the genus <i>Fagus</i>, along with their northern namesakes, but by 1850 their differences had been recognised and they were transferred to the genus <i>Nothofagus</i> (the name means <strike>southern beech</strike> [correction, 21 Nov 2013: it means "false beech"; southern beech would be Notofagus. H/T Rosi]). As <i>Nothofagus</i>, the southern beeches have been important trees in New Zealand ecology, conservation, forestry, and biogeography. Whole books have been written about them. <i>Nothofagus</i> is currently reckoned to have about 40 species. In 1962, a Russian botanist, Lyudmila Kuprianova, went a step further and proposed a new family, Nothofagaceae, for the southern beeches. This took rather a while to be accepted.</div>
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Many botanists have wrestled with the relationships of the species within <i>Nothofagus</i>, using sometimes single or few characteristics, other times multiple ones. The advents of (1) cladistic thinking (using explicit evolutionary trees) and (2) molecular characteristics from DNA sequencing have been of major help to this enterprise, because DNA has provided a wealth of new characters that are independent of the morphological ones and because the analysis and interpretation are out in the open for everyone to evaluate. Pretty quickly, the understanding of relationships in the southern beeches has converged on a single well-supported arrangement, which was arranged into a classification by Australian botanists Bob Hill and Jenny Read, who recognised one genus (<i>Nothofagus</i>) with four subgenera.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3smJIjX8vPDorqK1vDP30bZPKDKSERrbTMTF1F7RKF99nyJE-94WFJau1y1Z0GoqRH2AUFAcMU33Gd-rAaHi1DVaD8NDDq7tFhnrZN67iLMc47qyK71Wv8YhKQ9rxE_4yDKPZijvFYY/s1600/Beech+forest+3D+Eastbourne.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3smJIjX8vPDorqK1vDP30bZPKDKSERrbTMTF1F7RKF99nyJE-94WFJau1y1Z0GoqRH2AUFAcMU33Gd-rAaHi1DVaD8NDDq7tFhnrZN67iLMc47qyK71Wv8YhKQ9rxE_4yDKPZijvFYY/s400/Beech+forest+3D+Eastbourne.png" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Southern beech forest near Eastbourne, Wellington.</td></tr>
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Beyond the southern beeches, DNA sequence data were also telling us a lot about the relationships of southern beeches to the oaks, beeches, chestnuts and she-oaks and it became pretty clear that Kuprianova was correct in isolating them in their own family. It turns out that the ancestor of the beech order (Order Fagales) first divided into two species: one that was the common ancestor of the northern sweet chestnuts, beeches & oaks, she-oaks, myrtles, and more—seven families in all—and the other that was the common ancestor of just <i>Nothofagus</i>. If you were to divide Fagales into two suborders, one would have seven families and many genera, the other would have just one family, and that family would have just one genus. Thus <i>Nothofagus</i> and Nothofagaceae have different ranks (their place in the hierarchical classification) but identical circumscriptions (the species they contain); that redundancy means we're not using the available hierarchy of ranks to full advantage.<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<span class="s1">What’s more, the current classification of all the southern beeches in one genus <i>Nothofagus</i> can be a bit misleading. Most biologists agree that it’s absolutely essential that every genus or family should contain closest relatives. In other words, a species shouldn’t be more closely related to a member of another genus than it is to a species that’s classified in its own genus. <i>Nothofagus</i> doesn’t break that rule: every species of <i>Nothofagus</i> is more closely related to every other species than it is to any species that’s not placed in <i>Nothofagus</i>. So far, so good.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">But it’s easy to assume that our New Zealand species—black, hard, red, mountain and silver beeches—might be each other’s nearest relatives, and often people are surprised to find that’s not the case. In fact, hard, black, mountain, and red beeches are related, but silver beech’s nearest relative is in Australia. Wouldn’t it be better if their classification and their scientific names could reflect that?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This week two New Zealand botanists, Peter Heenan and Rob Smissen from <a href="http://www.landcareresearch.co.nz/about/news/video/herbarium">Landcare Research</a>, have revisited the classification of the southern beeches (Heenan & Smissen 2013). They brought together everything that’s been published so far, from both morphology and molecular systematics, and added some new data and analyses of their own. Their findings are pretty much the same as several previous reports, but they can now place greater levels of confidence in the groups they recognise. They comprehensively discuss alternative classifications and alternative criteria and come down with what I think is the most sensible classification. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Nothfagaceae now contains four genera.</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><i>Nothofagus</i> comprises just five species from temperate South America. The rest of the family is no longer classified as <i>Nothofagus</i>.</li>
<li><i>Lophozonia</i> is a reinstated genus, containing seven species from South America, New Zealand, and Australia. </li>
<li><i>Fuscospora</i> has six species and a very similar distribution; it’s a newly recognised genus, although like the others it has been treated as a subgenus in the past. Additionally in <i>Fuscospora</i>, this paper promotes mountain beech to species rank as <i>F. cliffortioides</i>. I look forward to reading the evidence for that change, because it was previously treated just as a variety of black beech.</li>
<li>Finally, <i>Trisyngyne</i> is the largest genus (25 species) and found today in the tropics: New Caledonia, Papua New Guinea and extending into Indonesia. </li>
</ul>
These genera are strongly supported by both molecular, morphological, and chemical characteristics, and they have symbiotic fungi and parasitic fungi and insects that also seem to recognise their relationships.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLRpCVNR7iQoMuQejhp3Vt9HLrMZk9_fTB5S_KR5yvVvBziZeuYbol7NI0Zkmm6csyQXZKC0znDP8Zukf8LAGyoD4sOsgPG0FY4l217j1mDacEXEVHFyrniyjxwUzFuOnrf_25n5b24E/s1600/Notfus+(WaikatoFalls).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLRpCVNR7iQoMuQejhp3Vt9HLrMZk9_fTB5S_KR5yvVvBziZeuYbol7NI0Zkmm6csyQXZKC0znDP8Zukf8LAGyoD4sOsgPG0FY4l217j1mDacEXEVHFyrniyjxwUzFuOnrf_25n5b24E/s400/Notfus+(WaikatoFalls).JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red beech, <i>Fuscospora fusca</i>.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirppg4CwkIT00aGZHewJDvwO6W_aejQOV5Oyisp9mVmwC2xGd0MFIqHt2PLpFZvz0QW-11Mnjx7GawxXtEZ-kz_gE5ObeGt__eJwT1IcZDGEaamMb4bU_KU0xpDMyizTmJOkMMMERZBDs/s1600/Notsol(Otari).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirppg4CwkIT00aGZHewJDvwO6W_aejQOV5Oyisp9mVmwC2xGd0MFIqHt2PLpFZvz0QW-11Mnjx7GawxXtEZ-kz_gE5ObeGt__eJwT1IcZDGEaamMb4bU_KU0xpDMyizTmJOkMMMERZBDs/s400/Notsol(Otari).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black beech, <i>Fuscospora solandri</i>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7qB1PpUvJr26hneuyeCevMGlKfpOS78uNn53WGvZsyH_WYHXi0PhVqFiRzA03SnDFPk5Xo5KmhdDLzvYhSV1RVVFoxO4KzsuJBpcAA-qB5VHBoLxOgjHnv590RfBhNEi9vxQs1OvypA/s1600/Notsol+MtMisery+Dec05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7qB1PpUvJr26hneuyeCevMGlKfpOS78uNn53WGvZsyH_WYHXi0PhVqFiRzA03SnDFPk5Xo5KmhdDLzvYhSV1RVVFoxO4KzsuJBpcAA-qB5VHBoLxOgjHnv590RfBhNEi9vxQs1OvypA/s400/Notsol+MtMisery+Dec05.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Mountain beech, <i>Fuscospora</i> <i>cliffortioides, </i>near Cass, Canterbury.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b0xC-B79KWsre0giuhwwO1WioiIrvDCSG32O1QmodBtJ7PF33J6Rmz3EptULHJWUvJRTOvdRMcAQhKE_Bs2RVs57yAexGIkG58_iTiaW4T33htf63Et0CMcrBlRw3y6oWfOkAHhHWwU/s1600/Nottru(Otari).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b0xC-B79KWsre0giuhwwO1WioiIrvDCSG32O1QmodBtJ7PF33J6Rmz3EptULHJWUvJRTOvdRMcAQhKE_Bs2RVs57yAexGIkG58_iTiaW4T33htf63Et0CMcrBlRw3y6oWfOkAHhHWwU/s400/Nottru(Otari).jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard beech, <i>Fuscospora truncata</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8GBTp8LDpwyHJi_ciDJMZl21OUDfdWj_DmMwiFUFKk80egbGSXMuJH9SUy1fTC7_sYC4EZUZi-3rftD9DfHo4kc0uPzKX9-7BitzKY1g97ybrSK8w_Y1mI77JpGoN0ROYLbHWp74-o0I/s1600/silverb+lvs.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8GBTp8LDpwyHJi_ciDJMZl21OUDfdWj_DmMwiFUFKk80egbGSXMuJH9SUy1fTC7_sYC4EZUZi-3rftD9DfHo4kc0uPzKX9-7BitzKY1g97ybrSK8w_Y1mI77JpGoN0ROYLbHWp74-o0I/s400/silverb+lvs.tif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silver beech, <i>Lophozonia menziesii</i>.</td></tr>
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<div class="p1">
When we use these new names for the New Zealand plants, we see immediately that we have two natural groups represented here: <i>Fuscospora</i> and <i>Lophozonia</i>. New Zealand no longer has any species of <i>Nothofagus</i>.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZtWOruHn0uOTa4wmpMkeyJuIkan-HazbNxXqNLbVqrU-c1YJRsCUt_kKr3DgiQrEITQ920HrNpp9G-Bg7_qkjBJ8p0ILtiifVa3j9brUohuEJGF4B3hlZqzs11JBxdbf5sImAofcjWU/s1600/Not+fus(TunnelGully).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZtWOruHn0uOTa4wmpMkeyJuIkan-HazbNxXqNLbVqrU-c1YJRsCUt_kKr3DgiQrEITQ920HrNpp9G-Bg7_qkjBJ8p0ILtiifVa3j9brUohuEJGF4B3hlZqzs11JBxdbf5sImAofcjWU/s400/Not+fus(TunnelGully).jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red beech, <i>Fuscospora fusca</i>, Tunnel Gully near Wellington.</td></tr>
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<div class="p1">
A final word of a more general nature. Some people will want to reject this change, perhaps because they feel nostalgic about the name <i>Nothofagus</i>, or perhaps because they feel name changes are disruptive. But taxonomy is science and there are scientific criteria involved. Like climate change, evolution, and vaccination, you can’t simply reject sound science because you don’t like it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYS14uo0bVVhraURLIjf6CCenlb64s7j5tBYmR27gGSUhj5So2BTjAM8u4hUGJh4YeBh9mBi72k3PahM6ys3Ja_1lveO73p1rSAZUqgzrlD_zaXEih0T9dfCufjIndMXRudLsRhyphenhyphen5vtns/s1600/Notmen(HaastPass).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYS14uo0bVVhraURLIjf6CCenlb64s7j5tBYmR27gGSUhj5So2BTjAM8u4hUGJh4YeBh9mBi72k3PahM6ys3Ja_1lveO73p1rSAZUqgzrlD_zaXEih0T9dfCufjIndMXRudLsRhyphenhyphen5vtns/s400/Notmen(HaastPass).JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin: 0px;">
Silver beech, <i>Lophozonia menziesii</i>, Haast Pass.</div>
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<span class="s1">It’s very rare in science for there to be two equally well-supported positions such that users are free to choose whichever one they prefer. Rather, scientists make decisions after critically considering the evidence. </span>It's true a classification is a human construct, but it's based on facts about evolutionary history. Those facts are hard-won data from the field, herbarium, and genetics lab. If your opinion contradicts those facts, then you're at risk of denying the science.</div>
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<span class="s1">In this case however, both the old classification and the new one do pass the most important test, that of classifying related species together, so we can't rule out one or the other on that ground. The question here is, "what's the appropriate rank for these four well-supported groups?" But is one answer better than the other? Heenan and Smissen argue strongly and in detail that there are good reasons to prefer their new scheme over the old one. For instance, they show that the newly-recognised genera are at least as old, diverse, and distinct as established genera in the other families of the order, that the new names are more informative about relationships among the southern beeches, and that a redundant grouping has now been eliminated. They conclude, and I agree, that these benefits far outweigh the temporary disruption of having new names to learn.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDL88AEM4KX7ttcYLLesahtK3oC6hdN6NkG6iT3cnuCnC21Rh2AFNemlKYNm4WyTxXSG_F6muZwqxjjTRc9xfN8yY8wlmfhbXQ4p3A2xd0rVHIqMQxpNwfUf7-G8ajSSRr3F8JRMtpTk/s1600/Notmoo(Eastwoodhill).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDL88AEM4KX7ttcYLLesahtK3oC6hdN6NkG6iT3cnuCnC21Rh2AFNemlKYNm4WyTxXSG_F6muZwqxjjTRc9xfN8yY8wlmfhbXQ4p3A2xd0rVHIqMQxpNwfUf7-G8ajSSRr3F8JRMtpTk/s400/Notmoo(Eastwoodhill).JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Australian beech, <i>Lophozonia moorei</i>, growing at <a href="http://www.eastwoodhill.org.nz/">Eastwoodhill</a>.</td></tr>
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<span class="Z3988" title="ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Ajournal&rft.jtitle=Phytotaxa&rft_id=info%3Adoi%2F10.11646%2Fphytotaxa.146.1.1&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fresearchblogging.org&rft.atitle=Revised+circumscription+of+Nothofagus+and+recognition+of+the+segregate+genera+Fuscospora%2C+Lophozonia%2C+and+Trisyngyne+%28Nothofagaceae%29&rft.issn=&rft.date=2013&rft.volume=146&rft.issue=&rft.spage=&rft.epage=&rft.artnum=&rft.au=Heenan%2C+P.B.%3B+Smissen%2C+R.D.&rfe_dat=bpr3.included=1;bpr3.tags=Biology%2CTaxonomy%2C+Botany%2C+Evolutionary+Biology%2C+Paleontology">Heenan, P.B.; Smissen, R.D. (2013). Revised circumscription of <i>Nothofagus</i> and recognition of the segregate genera <i>Fuscospora</i>, <i>Lophozonia</i>, and <i>Trisyngyne</i> (Nothofagaceae) <span style="font-style: italic;">Phytotaxa, 146</span> DOI: <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.11646/phytotaxa.146.1.1" rev="review">10.11646/phytotaxa.146.1.1</a></span>Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-25000810078224807972013-10-15T22:45:00.000-07:002013-10-15T22:45:07.898-07:00New associations good and bad.<span style="float: left; padding: 5px;"><a href="http://www.researchblogging.org/"><img alt="ResearchBlogging.org" src="http://www.researchblogging.org/public/citation_icons/rb2_large_gray.png" style="border: 0;" /></a></span>
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<span class="s1">The word <i>weed</i> can be a hard one to define. Most people accept that a weed is a plant growing where it’s unwanted, something that’s in the way, or that stops the flower or crop you’re trying to grow from growing, or interferes with valued native vegetation. When you think about it that way, it’s clear that one person’s crop or wildflower can easily be, or become, another’s weed. Unfortunately, the corollary is that one person’s pest might be another’s treasure.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYeQSgHphejSwUU0lVxxFO2m0ZUsDyx9P6ZWbK_YJVVWMjScPqYyd76e-MC5CpjI5B6g45Ptns2-GvcFbojGLBcNG_bAzlsmXUwmTS3suGDsJ7i3yR6nQTUTC04-Cspo2RbZsFt0FpPo/s1600/DSC_1974+copy+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYeQSgHphejSwUU0lVxxFO2m0ZUsDyx9P6ZWbK_YJVVWMjScPqYyd76e-MC5CpjI5B6g45Ptns2-GvcFbojGLBcNG_bAzlsmXUwmTS3suGDsJ7i3yR6nQTUTC04-Cspo2RbZsFt0FpPo/s320/DSC_1974+copy+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ngaio, <i>Myoporum laetum</i>.</td></tr>
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Last week I <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2013/10/wednesday-wildflower-boobialla.html">wrote</a> about the common confusion between New Zealand and Tasmanian ngaio, and how in New Zealand the latter is sometimes planted unintentionally in place of the former. Our native ngaio, although prone to self-seeding in gardens and capable of fast growth, is never really a weed here. But it is a pest plant in California, along with <a href="http://www.rnzih.org.nz/pages/NativeWeeds.htm">some others of our native flora</a>, like pōhutukawa and cabbage trees. This is the story of the rise and fall of ngaio in California, as told in a recent research paper by <a href="http://www.lincoln.ac.nz/staff-profile?staffId=Jon.Sullivan">Jon Sullivan</a> of Lincoln University (<a href="http://10.0.3.239/s10530-013-0532-x">Sullivan 2013</a>).</div>
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<span class="s1">Ngaio was introduced into California as an ornamental tree and widely planted around the middle of last century, mostly using a California-derived cultivar, <i>M. laetum</i> ‘Carsonii’. It’s the 18th most common street tree in San Francisco and is valued for its fast growth and salt tolerance near the sea. From widespread plantings in Southern California, ngaio has spread into many wild and semi-wild communities from Sonoma County southwards to Baja California in Mexico. It forms a dense canopy that shades out other plants and the dry woody centres of the trees are considered a fire risk. The trees even re-sprout after fire or herbicide spray treatment, so they’re hard to get rid of.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The core of Sullivan’s paper describes the effects of the chance introduction of a tiny insect, a kind of thrips (the singular and plural are both thrips). This thrips, <i><a href="http://cisr.ucr.edu/myoporum_thrips.html">Klambothrips myopori</a></i>, feeds on the leaves and shoots of plants of <i>Myoporum</i> and seems to have got there from Australia, where New Zealand ngaio isn't native, but where other species of <i>Myoporum</i> are. Although it was first described and named from Californian collections, later a small population was discovered on boobialla in Tasmania. And its closest relative is also in Australia, so it’s likely the insect is a dinkum Aussie and a newcomer to California. Most likely, <i>Myoporum</i> thrips got accidentally introduced to California, maybe via the airline routes that converge on Los Angeles. It probably wouldn’t have become established there, except that there were already large populations of planted and weedy ngaio for it to feed upon. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">And it got stuck in. It's taken it about five years to kill about half the ngaios in Southern California, and the remaining live ones are looking pretty sick.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Thrips are small slender insects with fringed wings. They mostly feed on plant sap, which they do through mouth-parts that are modified for piercing plant tissue. A thrips infestation typically produces silvery or bronze patches on shoots and leaves, where sap has been drawn out of the cells. Affected young ngaio shoots turn brown and the leaves are <a href="http://calphotos.berkeley.edu/cgi/img_query?enlarge=1111+1111+2222+2113">distorted</a>. Sullivan found high densities of nymphs and adults on affected trees in California. Other thrips are pollen feeders and are often seen in flowers, where some botanists believe they can be significant pollinators.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This inadvertent spread of thrips to California is an excellent outcome for environmental managers trying to deal with the Californian ngaio outbreak. To introduce a biological control agent these days involves a paper war of bureaucracy, and rightly so, because they can have unintended consequences. But in California, nature—or at least accident—had already done the job. So, all good, you might say.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The success of <i>Myoporum</i> thrips in California seems to support an idea that ecologists call the New Associations Hypothesis. The idea is that when a host-specialised organism—like a thrips that feeds only on <i>Myoporum</i>—comes into contact with a naive host, one that hasn’t been exposed to it before, then all hell breaks loose (for the host). The best-known historical examples are probably the human populations that hadn’t ever been exposed to European diseases, like smallpox and measles. Because long-distance dispersal to islands is a filter that only some organisms get through, it might be that our ngaio and other native plants have evolved in New Zealand without some or all of the parasites and predators that would damage them in their countries of origin. If they’ve let their guard down, so to speak, then introduction of those parasites and predators by human activity could be a disaster for them.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWv0LU-zypxKA5_ln3gQW-jxoz1CCVCR7W2-Px1YlZ8rSzWkaWM9TVjPR7nVeImBaPpoVo_BdrJ35hIMpbZwe6xqBlra8US-xdrQM3RtL2IWndF56vBUEsaFKK4zs_Kq9LbkRZiq_zBTk/s1600/biosecurity.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWv0LU-zypxKA5_ln3gQW-jxoz1CCVCR7W2-Px1YlZ8rSzWkaWM9TVjPR7nVeImBaPpoVo_BdrJ35hIMpbZwe6xqBlra8US-xdrQM3RtL2IWndF56vBUEsaFKK4zs_Kq9LbkRZiq_zBTk/s1600/biosecurity.jpeg" /></a></div>
So, what if this thrips ever makes its way to New Zealand? We now know it can and will happily eat ngaio, and we know it has the potential to hitch rides in aircraft. It’s yet another pest we need to watch for at the border. Presumably in Australia, the thrips and the <i>Myoporum</i> have evolved together and the plants have enough defenses not to be wiped out. But we can see what might happen here by looking at Hawai'i. There, the <i>Myoporum</i> thrips has already been introduced, again probably unintentionally and perhaps from California, and it’s taken to their native species of <i>Myoporum</i>, <i>M. sandwicense</i>, with gusto.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMViLlmwQswylzXyu41w3kNeyhawQ7A_38lSRmvtCuG6TLUgM_GQh7JfmOWr146Q_J35Sk2fY99wC0Ci5YG11a7Ja7ixpgB2MFZlu1lq2BF36vW1FiC08K7h6eCMCgpxJ_UDscD4SPbLE/s1600/Myoins+branch+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMViLlmwQswylzXyu41w3kNeyhawQ7A_38lSRmvtCuG6TLUgM_GQh7JfmOWr146Q_J35Sk2fY99wC0Ci5YG11a7Ja7ixpgB2MFZlu1lq2BF36vW1FiC08K7h6eCMCgpxJ_UDscD4SPbLE/s400/Myoins+branch+small.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A branch of boobialla, <i>M. insulare</i>.</td></tr>
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If that calamity happens here, we can only hope the thrips prefer the introduced boobialla or Tasmanian ngaio (<i>M. insulare</i>) to our native ngaio, <i>M. laetum</i>. My guess, and Sullivan’s too, is it’s more likely to be the other way round, because boobialla is likely to have more tolerance to thrips. Add that to people planting the wrong species, and in the future we might find our ngaio replaced by boobialla almost everywhere.</div>
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<span style="background-color: #f2f2f2; color: #595959; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px;">Sullivan, Jon J. (2013-08-24) </span><a class="blue" href="http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s10530-013-0532-x" style="background-color: #f2f2f2; color: #0075b2; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Inadvertent biological control: an Australian thrips killing an invasive New Zealand tree in California</a><span style="background-color: #f2f2f2; color: #595959; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px;">. . DOI: </span><a class="blue" href="http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s10530-013-0532-x" style="background-color: #f2f2f2; color: #0075b2; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">10.1007/s10530-013-0532-x</a><span style="background-color: #f2f2f2; color: #595959; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></div>
Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-23102110367315578492013-10-08T21:24:00.001-07:002013-10-08T21:24:23.121-07:00Wednesday Wildflower: boobialla (Tasmanian ngaio)Bird-dispersed woody weeds are some of the worst, and many in New Zealand are escapes from horticulture. Sometimes there are similar native and weedy species that can be confused.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMYUOBMrKUOF969LeCCErVKU9KOi5La4YPc2JIiOQUefDAuHNutAxP-ZZatS_L444fij496qTCFHNrmtmbQ4Z9w0Ex1E7QNAYTUKTdS_F3XSWRIKpXARsR7Xs0T9ZOwshfJ778jreSL4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-10-09+at+5.15.16+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMYUOBMrKUOF969LeCCErVKU9KOi5La4YPc2JIiOQUefDAuHNutAxP-ZZatS_L444fij496qTCFHNrmtmbQ4Z9w0Ex1E7QNAYTUKTdS_F3XSWRIKpXARsR7Xs0T9ZOwshfJ778jreSL4/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-10-09+at+5.15.16+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shoots of ngaio (left) and boobialla.</td></tr>
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Ngaio is a case in point. True ngaio, <i>Myoporum laetum,</i> is a native plant, and a good one to use in revegetation projects because it's easy and quick to grow. But the problem is there's also an introduced <i>Myoporum</i> from Tasmania, <i>M. insulare</i>, which is also quick-growing. If the Tasmanian ngaio, often known by its Australian common name, boobialla, is misidentified as the New Zealand native, then it can become widespread in an area by accident. Because they're both bird-dispersed, both ngaios can spread rapidly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Mhl3kKBtYZw23LlDlc3ut4FbBIWq89O7UX8Jg0mwfJMFF32BKXPnqVl_pjLlICSuTTN0IgZPBm9EWYN-c-HHoO3WEMgknrOC2l9z3G8bC1xNrhH63khYCUtAfcQZ3OcmU29sfKrekcE/s1600/Atawhai+plantings.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Mhl3kKBtYZw23LlDlc3ut4FbBIWq89O7UX8Jg0mwfJMFF32BKXPnqVl_pjLlICSuTTN0IgZPBm9EWYN-c-HHoO3WEMgknrOC2l9z3G8bC1xNrhH63khYCUtAfcQZ3OcmU29sfKrekcE/s640/Atawhai+plantings.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plantings between Nelson and Atawhai.</td></tr>
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There's a good example of this in Nelson, between the city and Atawhai. Alongside a new walkway/cycleway, an attractive native revegetation area is flourishing. Many native trees and shrubs are doing well there, such as <i>Griselinia litoralis</i>, <i>Cordyline australis</i>, <i>Dodonaea viscosa</i>, <i>Phormium tenax</i>, and <i>Coprosma robusta</i>. Unfortunately, most of the ngaio planted there is the wrong species: boobialla.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdl_cqT5YnYnYZ8BirS7E2sIHgGneChu8wnFk-d06DEK9TGd5ihGtukhXkGSG9v71haaJOngD4gds6cpncOH2Uzn8BfFqIr0_P3kGCBSjzSliNZeyO0OesjmbsHhCIad4izG-zF7rtM6c/s1600/Myoporum+buds.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdl_cqT5YnYnYZ8BirS7E2sIHgGneChu8wnFk-d06DEK9TGd5ihGtukhXkGSG9v71haaJOngD4gds6cpncOH2Uzn8BfFqIr0_P3kGCBSjzSliNZeyO0OesjmbsHhCIad4izG-zF7rtM6c/s400/Myoporum+buds.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New leaves of ngaio (left) and boobialla.</td></tr>
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The two are quite similar. Ngaio has purplish brown new leaves at the tips of the shoots while those of boobialla are green. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKd5OuQBg9uHO0eOrI_FHUC9Cei7CcgD6L-yETLhNaz16IzWUYv4S1A-qeiZ52ZDwvJw7wkfFBeSxq5Mq7-2vGlJymexR16iQLAsD_zCyFE_frE-T_hrOpVoh0SPZCprHT54ZhTmwH1QY/s1600/Myolae&Myoins+lvs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKd5OuQBg9uHO0eOrI_FHUC9Cei7CcgD6L-yETLhNaz16IzWUYv4S1A-qeiZ52ZDwvJw7wkfFBeSxq5Mq7-2vGlJymexR16iQLAsD_zCyFE_frE-T_hrOpVoh0SPZCprHT54ZhTmwH1QY/s400/Myolae&Myoins+lvs.jpg" width="331" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaves of ngaio (left) and boobialla.</td></tr>
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The leaves of ngaio have more obvious glandular dots than boobialla does. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VEtFxZ_em8qvh1kOrlFnEVzK8g1IRttaufysH-hlyhuC5X3pMPO_Wp2shUJmQKuwMIMVCayY9gsRJ_brXu3bdNNSr0RicPxEU4JwTWOucGzej2vFMdPIOMBDcV9T4JP7-iRSPKbwCdk/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-10-09+at+5.12.13+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VEtFxZ_em8qvh1kOrlFnEVzK8g1IRttaufysH-hlyhuC5X3pMPO_Wp2shUJmQKuwMIMVCayY9gsRJ_brXu3bdNNSr0RicPxEU4JwTWOucGzej2vFMdPIOMBDcV9T4JP7-iRSPKbwCdk/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-10-09+at+5.12.13+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers of ngaio (left) and boobialla.</td></tr>
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The flowers are a bit different too: those of boobialla are a bit smaller, more symmetrical, and have fewer and less obvious dots on the corolla.<br />
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While we can grumble about an Australian plant taking over the role of ngaio in New Zealand, the New Zealand ngaio isn't wanted everywhere. It's becoming a weed in California, along with cabbage tree and pōhutukawa. I'll post soon about an interesting new research paper that deals with this.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-64053587784288743122013-10-02T00:23:00.003-07:002013-10-02T00:23:39.479-07:00Wednesday wildflower: Indian mustard.<div class="p1">
Chance can be an important aspect of biological discovery, even very minor discoveries such as I'm describing today, but a prepared mind is an essential complementary aspect to it. Yesterday I went home from work by a new route, governed by two objectives: to get some eye bolts from the hardware store to support the earthquake-proofing at home, and to collect <i>Veronica hulkeana </i>flowers from the University grounds to photograph. So I was walking an unusual route between the hardware store and the University when I saw a mustard that looked unfamiliar, growing in a small front yard of a cottage, right up against the house. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp2bKVC9EcKw7vZuddPGcXdsLnmcIjvcx9nP6V3j3bTZBSx872vmLN5A1wxCMP5Ika-IzOWGJW4DkEueoD-EKpTHLRZH8Z0hRDBX96Txy-uUEROnH5PWWcwb3gMAVO9_8zXtdaJ6Sy1g/s1600/Brajun2928+habit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp2bKVC9EcKw7vZuddPGcXdsLnmcIjvcx9nP6V3j3bTZBSx872vmLN5A1wxCMP5Ika-IzOWGJW4DkEueoD-EKpTHLRZH8Z0hRDBX96Txy-uUEROnH5PWWcwb3gMAVO9_8zXtdaJ6Sy1g/s400/Brajun2928+habit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Brassica juncea</i>, Vivian Street Wellington city.</td></tr>
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I had a good look over the fence, but I didn't want to trespass, and this morning I went past again, wondering if I should knock on the door and ask permission to collect. Then I noticed there were half a dozen plants of it, and one or two branches were poking outside the boundary over the footpath: fair game! So I quickly grabbed a sample and brought it with me to work and spent a happy half-hour keying it out to Indian mustard, <i>Brassica juncea</i>.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowering branch, about to be made into a herbarium specimen.</td></tr>
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Indian mustard is an Asian <i>Brassica</i> that has been collected only occasionally in New Zealand. The <a href="http://floraseries.landcareresearch.co.nz/pages/Book.aspx?fileName=Flora%204.xml"><i>Flora of New Zealand </i>Vol. 4</a> describes its distribution as Northland, and the <a href="http://www.nzpcn.org.nz/flora_search.aspx?scfSubmit=1&scfLatin_Common_Name=Brassica+juncea">NZPCN website</a> shows several additional records from Auckland City. These are vigorous plants, up to 80 cm tall. They're hairless, and have stout stems with wide pith in the centre. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAAtSdDJHUairNg3Wkauo07v5ocj4U-gcDRLuBZCHWn-VO_bOmm-80mvk3aH-7ZQIp1QGDzPpeDIJKzfcbnrR3CcgscWUb6JXwNpkluJ3MGWY2kkAZVCCIImu9wl7g6_IDh1eOB5YenVU/s1600/Brajun2928+leaf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAAtSdDJHUairNg3Wkauo07v5ocj4U-gcDRLuBZCHWn-VO_bOmm-80mvk3aH-7ZQIp1QGDzPpeDIJKzfcbnrR3CcgscWUb6JXwNpkluJ3MGWY2kkAZVCCIImu9wl7g6_IDh1eOB5YenVU/s400/Brajun2928+leaf.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Brassica juncea</i>: upper leaf</td></tr>
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The leaves are bright green; the stem leaves coarsely toothed, the upper ones becoming simple and linear. The technical details needed for identification include: </div>
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sepals erecto-patent; </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3S9mTH8Rfeit4HpFZxFmYLeToyrCcrVIIu2BTEVzM1sC0tDCUdy-H-NZdlAREOm02Gr6mVh0o3lWvN-yKVksJ2nv1bPbrMfWVCJhfBTxU__faEpZbsGwk3C5jqpXCco54eveTxyuGnY/s1600/Brajun2928+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3S9mTH8Rfeit4HpFZxFmYLeToyrCcrVIIu2BTEVzM1sC0tDCUdy-H-NZdlAREOm02Gr6mVh0o3lWvN-yKVksJ2nv1bPbrMfWVCJhfBTxU__faEpZbsGwk3C5jqpXCco54eveTxyuGnY/s320/Brajun2928+flower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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petals bright yellow; stamens 6, the outer spreading (a bit); </div>
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ovary with one vein on each valve, seeds in one row, gynophore absent; style about 4 mm long at this early fruiting stage; stigma capitate.</div>
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These plants have coarsely toothed leaves, matching the cultivated variety <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mizuna">mizuna</a>. There seems to be some confusion whether mizuna is <i>B. rapa</i> or <i>B. juncea</i>, and maybe forms of both species are grown under that name. These ones though are not <i>B. rapa</i>, which, along with <i>B. oleracea</i> and <i>B. napus</i>, has distinctive glaucous and stem-clasping upper leaves. It's a plant that has become popular in supermarket salads, so I expect more people are growing it these days, and so it's more likely to escape into the wild. That's good for wild food <a href="http://foragerstreasury.blogspot.co.nz/p/id-gallery.html">foragers</a>.</div>
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When plant distributions spread southwards, it's tempting to think it might be something to do with global warming. But weed distributions are governed by all sorts of things, not least by chance, such as the accident of their place of introduction. It'll be interesting to see if this <i>Brassica</i> spreads further in Wellington and if it's already established in other parts of the city.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-90105266638615678272013-09-19T23:02:00.000-07:002013-09-27T11:52:30.627-07:00The Great Veronica Hunt — part 5.(Note: I've updated this post on 28 September, giving the name of the botanist whose advice led me to these two <i>Veronica</i>s and whose collections in New Zealand herbaria verify those discoveries. The changes are <u>underlined</u>.)<br />
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If you've been paying attention, and I'm sure you have, you'll notice I haven't posted the Great <i>Veronica</i> Hunt part 4, but that's what I should have called <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2013/09/wednesday-wildflower-veronica.html">this post</a> a couple of weeks ago. So, skipping part 4, here's part 5.<br />
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In <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2013/01/the-great-veronica-hunt-part-1.html">part 1</a>, I described trying to find <i>Veronica peregrina</i> last year. That was frustrating, because although I had a very accurate description of the location and the habitat, I was there too late in the season. To make it worse, the original collector—<u>Whanganui botanist Colin Ogle</u>— hadn't seen it there for a few years and doubted it would still be present. Still, <u>Colin</u> had told me last autumn of a site for another species I need to photograph, <i>V. chamaedrys</i>, so yesterday I went after them both.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3HVQuefNHPZqMwR5q-CyLRPpF1GZ-9FX9J6PLou8YOFPvOvNhMPJG-Rg8ovDeInSLj4Yk9YahhlBPZbQ7mA4zMi_DEWZ5r-X6kcdKWX2qmUGMGAnx-ZTeimmv9qlBxY1Juni6f-7vB3I/s1600/DSC02455+Verper+habit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3HVQuefNHPZqMwR5q-CyLRPpF1GZ-9FX9J6PLou8YOFPvOvNhMPJG-Rg8ovDeInSLj4Yk9YahhlBPZbQ7mA4zMi_DEWZ5r-X6kcdKWX2qmUGMGAnx-ZTeimmv9qlBxY1Juni6f-7vB3I/s400/DSC02455+Verper+habit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica peregrina</i> plants, Kakariki.</td></tr>
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It took a while to find <i>V. peregrina</i>, but it is still there. It was growing in silty gravel at the edges of dried up puddles in a rough <a href="http://naturewatch.org.nz/observations/370568">vehicle track</a>. The biggest plants were about 75 mm tall, and the small white flowers weren't fully open on a rather dull day. I brought some plants back to photograph, some to grow, and some to make a couple of herbarium specimens.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNSHzFZC8vLLM3tZ8hpnYoT2w8fMTrXKBu99plUiyapQUPZ_suqoHW2q0a2bAPNvGgs0KhnDqNlGhfdIO8DBwNM5JNy9sXEVTR0yW-Z6mst1DfW3YqaTJ2OssBDHkeXLJEiNz_DnM8KWc/s1600/DSC_1131+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNSHzFZC8vLLM3tZ8hpnYoT2w8fMTrXKBu99plUiyapQUPZ_suqoHW2q0a2bAPNvGgs0KhnDqNlGhfdIO8DBwNM5JNy9sXEVTR0yW-Z6mst1DfW3YqaTJ2OssBDHkeXLJEiNz_DnM8KWc/s400/DSC_1131+copy.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica peregrina</i></td></tr>
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This is an American plant, and it seems to be often associated with railways in the States, so it's interesting that this site is right beside the main trunk railway, at Kakariki, near Marton. I don't know whether the activities of railways spread seeds around or whether they create suitable habitats, or maybe it's just a coincidence.<br />
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<i>V. peregrina</i> plants are bright green and either have no hairs or very few long glandular ones. Their flowers are pure white, an unusual colour for a northern hemisphere <i>Veronica</i> (most are blue), but a common colour among our native species (only a few of which are blue).<br />
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While at Kakariki, I'd promised a colleague I'd look for spore-bearing cones on <i>Equisetum arvense</i>, which is naturalised along the banks of the Rangitikei River. I'd seen it there in abundance last trip, so I confidently went down to the river. However the river banks have been extensively sprayed, and, while it hasn't completely cleared the infestation, it's knocked it back pretty severely. Eventually I managed to find a single cone, and took photographs and a specimen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_tZSB3cOvW5xTRbOwzKtCsjUnJuXYQaA_mR1uFeEh1-Cn79rR6WpdW6gK51hl-u6K-GtK_Jtrjf8PxAk-bylijGfouzO3CaTsBXutm-jhA2ng9iZpfhaKPD3oBVBApZHYNU7_Oxae6M/s1600/Equarv+habit+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_tZSB3cOvW5xTRbOwzKtCsjUnJuXYQaA_mR1uFeEh1-Cn79rR6WpdW6gK51hl-u6K-GtK_Jtrjf8PxAk-bylijGfouzO3CaTsBXutm-jhA2ng9iZpfhaKPD3oBVBApZHYNU7_Oxae6M/s400/Equarv+habit+small.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Equisetum arvense</i></td></tr>
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<i>Equisetum</i> (horsetail) is an odd plant, now known to belong among the ferns. The cones produce not seeds, but spores (pine cones produce spores too: male cones make male spores that develop into multicellular pollen grains before they're dispersed, and in the familiar female cones the spores are retained, develop there, and after fertilisation each develops into parts of a seed). Horsetail spores are formed in cylindrical sporangia underneath the hexagonal umbrella-like scales on the cone, which spread apart to release them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNZsmJEk2pBPXvBVbMXASzShz0jaQVVull_QtVZ3JZHr9oJCJaD8uEdXErvWSYV9u6_kKt9cAnzUanflqgOCxExvd08ugcA6QCy1rEN4PWHLqbodEp2C3wTwzQ5B0cYof22G_oD6DV50/s1600/Equarv+cone+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNZsmJEk2pBPXvBVbMXASzShz0jaQVVull_QtVZ3JZHr9oJCJaD8uEdXErvWSYV9u6_kKt9cAnzUanflqgOCxExvd08ugcA6QCy1rEN4PWHLqbodEp2C3wTwzQ5B0cYof22G_oD6DV50/s400/Equarv+cone+small.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Equisetum arvense</i>, spore-bearing cone.</td></tr>
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Then it was on to Marton for lunch and through Whanganui to the hill country inland from Kaiiwi. <u>Colin Ogle had</u> told <u>me</u> of a locality for <i>Veronica chamaedrys</i>, a plant I'd seen and photographed in England and France, but one that's naturalised in a few scattered localities in New Zealand. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetRD1XuuEo3IthvTNfMC2JlytsnqLIUpNPqyb2VIoiSMEQgIM6ryZ0QIsaBUlmnjtoM_VYjRU1Qbp-lkv7OWssZGNuqA7QlhQqf5l1qi_pSevJQ5Wl3PaPg9U9pcDRBVKwrcNaF3oGrY/s1600/Vercha(fl+StLeon).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetRD1XuuEo3IthvTNfMC2JlytsnqLIUpNPqyb2VIoiSMEQgIM6ryZ0QIsaBUlmnjtoM_VYjRU1Qbp-lkv7OWssZGNuqA7QlhQqf5l1qi_pSevJQ5Wl3PaPg9U9pcDRBVKwrcNaF3oGrY/s400/Vercha(fl+StLeon).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><i>Veronica chamaedrys</i>, St. Léon sur Vézère, Dordogne, France.</td></tr>
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Here in the bush it grows around the edges of a small clearing in an old waterworks reserve. How it got here is anyone's guess, but it's well-established in a small area. We were too early for flowers, but it's a vigorous plant and I'm sure we can grow it on at home in a semi-shaded spot. If this works, I'll post photos later.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxnWgXMqGo1DDVGhDjdaWwjjkzj9Opu8fcpjJI0P1wOOtXTn9Aa49t1UqMSphIsfNd6y0smCiOl396hNU8axjud1SewzmPpSWs0ntjChu4rpKE8rbkle8_1vlLvtt1bgXpyD4W9t5EdM/s1600/Vercha+habit:habitat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxnWgXMqGo1DDVGhDjdaWwjjkzj9Opu8fcpjJI0P1wOOtXTn9Aa49t1UqMSphIsfNd6y0smCiOl396hNU8axjud1SewzmPpSWs0ntjChu4rpKE8rbkle8_1vlLvtt1bgXpyD4W9t5EdM/s400/Vercha+habit:habitat.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica chamaedrys </i>at the edge of the clearing</td></tr>
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The roadside cliffs through the bush were covered in flowering plants of <i>Ourisia macrophylla </i>subsp<i>. macrophylla</i>, and some of them were pink-flowered, at least in the bud. I'd never seen such colour in New Zealand <i>Ourisia</i>, but in South America there are both red- and pink-flowered members of this genus.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4ifjTU4Mn2Y5wN2Y8Glp0zOYnvY-VY8K4Ple4TRQuAdWOHVvbXyZGszhFL3Bgh97dEH-kDqGmH6gnwfb1kPqjm7Fem7G66oLF-gy2ZutkZbAMKXZy5b0O7gXqr3YlstjK-vqeFEOq1I/s1600/Ourlac+Junct+Rd+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4ifjTU4Mn2Y5wN2Y8Glp0zOYnvY-VY8K4Ple4TRQuAdWOHVvbXyZGszhFL3Bgh97dEH-kDqGmH6gnwfb1kPqjm7Fem7G66oLF-gy2ZutkZbAMKXZy5b0O7gXqr3YlstjK-vqeFEOq1I/s400/Ourlac+Junct+Rd+small.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink <i>Ourisia</i>.</td></tr>
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It's always odd going back to Whanganui. That's where we first settled when we emigrated to New Zealand in 1955. I started school there (<a href="http://www.oldfriends.co.nz/InstitutionPhotoView.aspx?id=123182">this</a> is me on the left end of the middle row), and we used to swim at Kaiiwi Beach.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-60633389576984534302013-09-03T20:55:00.000-07:002013-09-03T20:55:34.250-07:00Wednesday wildflower: Veronica hederifoliaLast week I was at Lincoln, near Christchurch, working in the <a href="http://www.landcareresearch.co.nz/resources/collections/allan-herbarium">herbarium</a> at <a href="http://www.landcareresearch.co.nz/home">Landcare Research</a>. I was checking my descriptions and identifying specimens towards my <i>Veronica</i> treatment for the new on line Flora of New Zealand, the <a href="http://www.nzflora.info/">eFlora</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIepH3kv1BDTax-CsUa2HqeRcL7PO-AAtfByxCIwBfPT-I9F05KjaCWAVs_YrVEPjNhVytiuCRwR8BVoqJoay88Y6aO3_CuiceNLeEwN4UgWvNBgFV3-5owIRdqmSYg0cVK0bWZwbktg/s1600/Verhed+habitat+Liffey+Domain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIepH3kv1BDTax-CsUa2HqeRcL7PO-AAtfByxCIwBfPT-I9F05KjaCWAVs_YrVEPjNhVytiuCRwR8BVoqJoay88Y6aO3_CuiceNLeEwN4UgWvNBgFV3-5owIRdqmSYg0cVK0bWZwbktg/s400/Verhed+habitat+Liffey+Domain.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica hederifolia</i> growing at the foot of an oak tree in the Liffey Domain, Lincoln.</td></tr>
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One of the introduced species (there are about 20 of them) that I hadn't yet seen grows right there in <a href="http://naturewatch.org.nz/observations/368967">Lincoln</a>, so it seemed a good opportunity for a field trip to collect and photograph it. <i>Veronica hederifolia</i> plants are soft annual herbs that creep along the ground. Their flowers appear to be solitary in the axils of the upper leaves, but that depends on an interpretation. Leaves that don't produce flowers are opposite, but there's a shift to alternate leaves, each of which has a flower in its axil. It's probably reasonable as an alternative interpretation to consider this to be the initiation of a terminal inflorescence. In any case the leaf form doesn't change, whereas in many <i>Veronica</i> the flowers are produced in the axils of much smaller and simpler leaves, which are designated as bracts.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica hederifolia</i> growth form.</td></tr>
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<i>V. hederifolia</i> has been growing there in Lincoln along the banks of the L2 river for over 50 years. The botanist who collected it last—in 1985—was able to tell me exactly where to look, and there it was. There's one other collection in Landcare's herbarium, from St Mary's College grounds in Christchurch, and the <a href="http://floraseries.landcareresearch.co.nz/pages/Book.aspx?fileName=Flora%204.xml">Flora</a> refers to other verified locations in Hawke's Bay, Manawatu, and Southland.<br />
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Although <i>V. hederifolia</i> looks a bit like <i><a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2012/10/wednesday-wildflower-veronica-persica.html">V. persica</a></i> in the way it grows, there are a lot of clear differences. The leaf shape for one, but also the flowers are smaller, and the anthers are held right against the stigma so it self-pollinates, in spite of producing lots of nectar. The fruits of <i>V. hederifolia</i> are hairless, circular, and barely notched, whereas fruits of <i>V. persica</i> are hairy along the edges of two widely diverging lobes.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica hederifolia</i> flower.</td></tr>
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The calyx lobes are folded length-wise and have long hairs along their edges.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Veronica hederifolia</i>, calyx.</td></tr>
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I've taken a few small plants to try to grow it on at home, but annuals can be hard to transplant, so I'm hoping fruits and seeds will be ready when I go back to Lincoln next month. Then I'll be able to finish my description by describing fruits and seeds and bring home some seeds to grow in the garden.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-7965569520242445882013-09-01T22:51:00.000-07:002013-09-01T22:51:07.963-07:00Disaster tourism.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I lived in Christchurch for 22 years from 1972 until 1994. Last week I went back for the first time since the <a href="http://info.geonet.org.nz/display/quake/M+6.3%2C+Christchurch%2C+22+February+2011">earthquakes</a> that shattered the city and eastern suburbs in 2010 and 2011. I visited friends who kindly took me on a tour of the damage and the restoration; sadly there's still more of the former than the latter in evidence. I felt reluctant to rubber-neck, but my friends wanted me to see it, because, like many in the city, they feel the rest of the country has forgotten them. I don't think we have; well, I certainly haven't. It's just that there's not a lot one can do at a distance, and it seems true that one of the things we can't do at a distance is understand. <br />
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We started the tour with breakfast at a cafe on the Port Hills, overlooking the city. It was a splendid sunny spring morning, and everything looked pretty good from here. Then we drove over the hills to Lyttelton, pretty close to the epicentre of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011_Christchurch_earthquake">February 22 earthquake</a> that did the worst of the damage.<br />
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If you didn't know Lyttelton and Christchurch before the quakes, the following photos aren't going to mean much. Lyttelton was a delightful small harbour town that time had passed by. The main business district was a couple of blocks near the port, with lovely old 2—3-story buildings. It's nearly all gone. The scene below shows one of the many bomb-site spaces where buildings once stood. A few are still standing, with their windows boarded over and tarpaulins stretched across the roofs; others have broken windows letting the elements invade the interiors.<br />
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The facade of this smaller building is still standing, thanks to strong timber props.<br />
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But in the middle of the desolation and fenced off stony spaces choked with weeds, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_Hijackers">space hijackers</a> have made a mark, and provided places where people gather to enjoy the sun and each other. Everywhere I went were places like this, with thriving markets, buskers, and throngs of people. I don't know which were sanctioned by the council and which were more subversive.<br />
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From Lyttelton we went through the tunnel (undamaged, except for the portal building, now gone) and via Redcliffs to Sumner. The Redcliffs causeway was closed for repairs and all the busy traffic was diverted along the old road, which has slumped deeply in places. It's all a bit much for an ordinary car, and it seems a rugged four wheel drive is the way to get around now. Shag Rock used to be a prominent monolith at the entrance to the Avon-Heathcote Estuary; now it's a pile of rubble, shaken to bits in the February quake.<br />
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At Sumner, parts of the cliffs fell away, taking houses with them. For about 2 km, a 2-story wall of shipping containers protects the road from rock falls. Several half-houses at the top of the cliff are separated from piles of rubbish at the bottom<br />
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The house at centre right of the cliff top is split, and some of it is at the bottom of the cliff.<br />
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This sad house has a broken back, one of few timber houses that were badly damaged.<br />
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From Sumner, we headed back towards town and briefly crossed the residential red zone. The road suddenly dropped about 1 m as we entered the zone, and the first house I saw was half sunken into the ground. In many streets, most houses had been removed and just empty gardens remain; other houses had boarded windows, graffiti, and rubble. I couldn't bring myself to take pictures here. The road was dire: pot-holes, subsidence, and broken surfaces. Here the approach from the riverside to FitzGerald Avenue has settled, and produced a rough ramp.<br />
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We drove down FitzGerald Avenue to the Roman Catholic Basilica, in my opinion Christchurch's finest church. A poster outside shows what it used to look like:<br />
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Now, the domes and towers are gone:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAyul9Ds9xmsEKVdWPboSB6_utY7jCSn9k7Iy4y5Da13kcT2jvIhm037b9YOtJx2fpGf8IAlxVdH-gUZeB3KqbnjyQP-XPNf4L49cgIrtqOqzKYnTKkJpNvOzVVAa0Da-KU9NfwGyM40/s1600/9.+Basilica+now+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAyul9Ds9xmsEKVdWPboSB6_utY7jCSn9k7Iy4y5Da13kcT2jvIhm037b9YOtJx2fpGf8IAlxVdH-gUZeB3KqbnjyQP-XPNf4L49cgIrtqOqzKYnTKkJpNvOzVVAa0Da-KU9NfwGyM40/s400/9.+Basilica+now+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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... and from the other side:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqXSxHq5CkP0cG1kdIFT4HAA7sr3jxUrEfI5CCWP1HJ0MRQFV1UoezN1zJddZKbXvPGyJZP2huh0rRwEq_ehO92X4qvMHa3qzFvZWyXp-67fhfZX___W7ost6YKabLP2PhL4T7JHEtrM/s1600/10.+Basilica+now+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqXSxHq5CkP0cG1kdIFT4HAA7sr3jxUrEfI5CCWP1HJ0MRQFV1UoezN1zJddZKbXvPGyJZP2huh0rRwEq_ehO92X4qvMHa3qzFvZWyXp-67fhfZX___W7ost6YKabLP2PhL4T7JHEtrM/s400/10.+Basilica+now+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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From there into the city centre. What struck me here is the amount of empty space. Some whole city blocks have almost gone, with only one or two buildings left standing. Sometimes, you can see for long distances where city buildings and shop fronts used to block the view. Here's the Cashel St–Colombo St intersection:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qBdJUifQ0hc2NEikQ48DlRUkNZv5BJB51DADUF7HbN-CKHhiiF7XlVIBmk08MYGGc0zS80DvT5dkRn1A7kfwS_RamswnCP1EbSHPnurbInp88brCxq-POCIiD0MqhE6JN_4g1iHC71A/s1600/12.+Cashel+St.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qBdJUifQ0hc2NEikQ48DlRUkNZv5BJB51DADUF7HbN-CKHhiiF7XlVIBmk08MYGGc0zS80DvT5dkRn1A7kfwS_RamswnCP1EbSHPnurbInp88brCxq-POCIiD0MqhE6JN_4g1iHC71A/s400/12.+Cashel+St.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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But on the other side of Colombo Street, Cashel Mall is transformed into the container mall. Ballantyne's is still trading, and the mall is filled with little shops, cafes and boutiques built with modified shipping containers. The demolition of buildings on the north side lets the sun in, and crowds were enjoying the spring warmth, the shops, and the buskers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDeK8_DI-ME2pCmoOoR6cLns2STCy76TXlyXYt8BcVbS5nAT6fN2aB3sAaqn_Yg17DRgTm-Ss-0ap84xfClkFToxamDjOQiDnUVB0LzadGyeITQB6HapbxSwfHRvzAYys7-vLXT5v_dU/s1600/13.+Container+mall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDeK8_DI-ME2pCmoOoR6cLns2STCy76TXlyXYt8BcVbS5nAT6fN2aB3sAaqn_Yg17DRgTm-Ss-0ap84xfClkFToxamDjOQiDnUVB0LzadGyeITQB6HapbxSwfHRvzAYys7-vLXT5v_dU/s400/13.+Container+mall.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Container shop:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFiaCcw1Ga5XzrNvj4WaxXtdNcKPEFnJZMSO_6cgRJdTNeZdTmws0pU5bEMHpU4gBmYWk-5p5QeerU7u2wR6lHZsOs0tPaB96n35si0fGnaIbZQUMQFTeWpyrt0f86Y53CiFDcBOYdpCM/s1600/14.+Container+Mall+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFiaCcw1Ga5XzrNvj4WaxXtdNcKPEFnJZMSO_6cgRJdTNeZdTmws0pU5bEMHpU4gBmYWk-5p5QeerU7u2wR6lHZsOs0tPaB96n35si0fGnaIbZQUMQFTeWpyrt0f86Y53CiFDcBOYdpCM/s400/14.+Container+Mall+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div>
Container mall looking east:</div>
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<div>
But most of the city is devoid of any commercial activity, and most offices are now re-located to the suburbs. Around the corner, nothing remains of the bustling night-life centre of the city, the Strip, on Oxford Terrace. This used to be wall-to-wall cafes, with indoor and outdoor dining.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1OfRqcceHDwbuI_nakiYuJ3MBoiIAm-KRyaW4S-KCdxTCz-3KCMl3Zx66XgdoI5Q0MB5b9G9fxCmVQR-ozE_4LBp0f-ILIrsa9KzoVo_89uK2iELhHekIhYaKxADvMjkV-g8Powtcw0/s1600/16.+The+strip.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1OfRqcceHDwbuI_nakiYuJ3MBoiIAm-KRyaW4S-KCdxTCz-3KCMl3Zx66XgdoI5Q0MB5b9G9fxCmVQR-ozE_4LBp0f-ILIrsa9KzoVo_89uK2iELhHekIhYaKxADvMjkV-g8Powtcw0/s400/16.+The+strip.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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And a bit further along, so many buildings have gone that you can see right through from Oxford Terrace to the cathedral ruins in the Square:</div>
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The old tourist information centre is heavily braced, pending repair I hope.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtiqxTVwIJL1GlxXRn0d_SENxA78vAGJYWDZvTAIYdc8KiPt3vruF4vfATVqWFqV_Xvm2HfpnNG7UDXe18zCrXhjeYAT2Fo_eUBs34Sk5g0Wvg1q3UGBMagr8Y4Pgwhwcb22vAVSqiRpA/s1600/17a.+Tourist+info+centre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtiqxTVwIJL1GlxXRn0d_SENxA78vAGJYWDZvTAIYdc8KiPt3vruF4vfATVqWFqV_Xvm2HfpnNG7UDXe18zCrXhjeYAT2Fo_eUBs34Sk5g0Wvg1q3UGBMagr8Y4Pgwhwcb22vAVSqiRpA/s400/17a.+Tourist+info+centre.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div>
The Square used to be the heart of the city, and maybe it will be again. However, not just the Anglican cathedral is damaged, but many other buildings have gone: Farmer's Department Store is an empty lot, and the BNZ tower is reduced to 3-4 stories of desolate ruin. I took a <a href="http://360.io/ZDFYB4">panorama</a> 360 degree view that you can drag and zoom in to.</div>
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The cathedral itself is worse than I'd imagined.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XQH6how3hPXcTBWyNzOu86ryoupSihhX0odUImVBOVhbwtVdwJPKNuXMmeqBpUjacc535d3v_cnJCWf9TOw6twdv-DoGW6RzxiSipn1EOcRG9QBPsTCv6PszO-DiW_m0Fz8TQ3vOARA/s1600/18.+Cathedral+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XQH6how3hPXcTBWyNzOu86ryoupSihhX0odUImVBOVhbwtVdwJPKNuXMmeqBpUjacc535d3v_cnJCWf9TOw6twdv-DoGW6RzxiSipn1EOcRG9QBPsTCv6PszO-DiW_m0Fz8TQ3vOARA/s400/18.+Cathedral+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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But here too, some clever soul has added a quirky and colourful portal, returning colour and hope to the Square.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1r-w1j18PzlbtY3iVLgpFqgOigxyw3fMMZIELU7NUFkrcm4PPk6915aRZQ5sxLqvo-2M24ipOKoWdr4FfUlryPdA-ln8lq4HrHlNPLr16rvi4I97pQqWoej8UdKJWlaRqWGztqaUxHcs/s1600/19.+Cathedral+portal+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1r-w1j18PzlbtY3iVLgpFqgOigxyw3fMMZIELU7NUFkrcm4PPk6915aRZQ5sxLqvo-2M24ipOKoWdr4FfUlryPdA-ln8lq4HrHlNPLr16rvi4I97pQqWoej8UdKJWlaRqWGztqaUxHcs/s400/19.+Cathedral+portal+small.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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North of the Square the old National Bank is standing, but boarded up and empty, among vacant lots.</div>
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And looking back towards the cathedral, so many buildings have gone that you can see all the way to the Port Hills.</div>
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When I lived in Christchurch, funding was being raised for the restoration of the Theatre Royal. All that's left of that restoration is the facade and the dome, but it's being rebuilt and seems to be well ahead of many other buildings.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2m_gHI6JCk4zls9iQI0iuvoKyhBjd5jUvlfRko0U7B0FIh3S0czuatD-WixdpGOZDvh_Ue8dgP1AD82uFxkQYTe2La4pXFJQg3ydet0QXmd3VKVNbpKhB64zjo3nNDMvWSdFG28BMA1w/s1600/20.+Theatre+Royal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2m_gHI6JCk4zls9iQI0iuvoKyhBjd5jUvlfRko0U7B0FIh3S0czuatD-WixdpGOZDvh_Ue8dgP1AD82uFxkQYTe2La4pXFJQg3ydet0QXmd3VKVNbpKhB64zjo3nNDMvWSdFG28BMA1w/s400/20.+Theatre+Royal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The casino is still standing; that's one building I think Christchurch would be better off without. If you believe earthquakes are acts of God, you'd have to say he hates churches and likes casinos. Nearby, someone has cleverly built an enclosure of blue-painted pallets, where people were selling art and crafts from stalls, while others played and listened to music.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDXtuGnV9D9G1F7bfQ-8vXwtIQnUJ8R5akWilmeA54zhHaiKKf9U3nx53fhmgVQyhd_3AD_-Pj4oYEfXGgH1rBMBjRP5iY0ipYxghtzarnsPDRmb5AkL0NfuWMK1M8K1UmRJvBcaZXJ8/s1600/21.+Pallet+space.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDXtuGnV9D9G1F7bfQ-8vXwtIQnUJ8R5akWilmeA54zhHaiKKf9U3nx53fhmgVQyhd_3AD_-Pj4oYEfXGgH1rBMBjRP5iY0ipYxghtzarnsPDRmb5AkL0NfuWMK1M8K1UmRJvBcaZXJ8/s400/21.+Pallet+space.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Bridge of Remembrance is being repaired, I guess with a view to the anniversary of the first World War next year, and Gallipoli the year after.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9KDI9EUFQfl_-kUXgB805DqWpxNPMPIVTh3YymOFh2BngiRp1hiW954FfjkY1qL-VHdPw1DYa6VvVRtS7Uo1EAtcUqqzMfcd25TdFpKdt-v05VHg6lIGH6YAAR36EnE8b-KnUsrbvJI/s1600/22.+Bridge+of+Remembrance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9KDI9EUFQfl_-kUXgB805DqWpxNPMPIVTh3YymOFh2BngiRp1hiW954FfjkY1qL-VHdPw1DYa6VvVRtS7Uo1EAtcUqqzMfcd25TdFpKdt-v05VHg6lIGH6YAAR36EnE8b-KnUsrbvJI/s400/22.+Bridge+of+Remembrance.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And some of the old stone buildings of the Arts Centre, the old University of Canterbury, are being repaired.</div>
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This is what the arts centre looked like, back in 1972 when it was the University of Canterbury:</div>
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I hope it can be restored to its former glory.</div>
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Canterbury Museum is already up and running.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZW6mDf2oc_-GpCZ74FW6l_HGLq88A_KoZ336YUwnwyuWnSAotFV8yCkBFQXgvHoqCkFP1DEKKV5v3QsGUrgDIQe2SmDhQGAlVekN6PR7LLBNKGoyoAzXdFK6GKtr10FmWzeLvGAjmUc/s1600/24.+Museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZW6mDf2oc_-GpCZ74FW6l_HGLq88A_KoZ336YUwnwyuWnSAotFV8yCkBFQXgvHoqCkFP1DEKKV5v3QsGUrgDIQe2SmDhQGAlVekN6PR7LLBNKGoyoAzXdFK6GKtr10FmWzeLvGAjmUc/s400/24.+Museum.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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My overall impressions? Shock I think, at the extent of the damage and the disruption and loss that face the people every single day. Also delight, at the funky creations that are springing up all over, some sanctioned by the authorities, others more subversive. And awe and respect for the people who live amongst it all, with frustration, fear, patience, and hope. My friends have wondered about the wisdom of living the rest of their middle years in a city that is so damaged and will be so long under repair. But they have decided to stay, and among the loss that surrounds them there is great hope and growing excitement for the <a href="http://ccdu.govt.nz/">future</a>. </div>
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My other impression is from the first day I arrived, before I saw the damage. The shuttle trip from the airport to Lincoln took me through suburbs so busy and bustling they were more like Auckland than the South Island. Here the commercial life of the city has reinvented itself and people have come to live in sprawling new suburbs that are marching across former farm land.</div>
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Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-89802425857445559462013-08-13T12:24:00.000-07:002013-08-13T12:24:58.905-07:00Wednesday wildflower: Cape weedHere's something to watch for if you like foraging for wild food: be very careful about misidentifications. I remember visiting someone in Christchurch once who was carefully transplanting wild hemlock (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conium">this one</a>) seedlings into her herb garden, thinking they were <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angelica">angelica</a>. Well, I shouldn't be smug about that, because yesterday I made a mistake that could have had nasty consequences if I'd been foraging and if the mistake had been in the reverse direction, but I like to think I wouldn't have made it if I'd had a fresh plant or a dried specimen, rather than a photo, to identify.<br />
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It was on the <a href="http://naturewatch.org.nz/">Naturewatch</a> website, and someone had posted a photo with a request for identification. I thought it looked like puha (<i>Sonchus oleraceus</i>), but then I changed my mind and identified it as Cape weed, <i>Arctotheca calendula</i>. The great thing about Naturewatch is that the identifications are crowd-sourced, and others quickly <a href="http://naturewatch.org.nz/observations/367862">challenged my identification and convinced me</a>, with evidence, that I was wrong. The plant was indeed puha (<i>Sonchus oleraceus</i>). (It's a bit embarrassing, because I wrote the <a href="http://floraseries.landcareresearch.co.nz/pages/Book.aspx?fileName=Flora%204.xml">Flora of New Zealand</a> treatment for both these plants.)<br />
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So yesterday, I went looking for some fresh material. Here are the upper surfaces of the leaves:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIWgUNdQ2sDu25BV3k3jT74srhnzvUjP5EmeymV5GgvqFm5wNZ1R20GAeqJ_bo2o09YEWtd7PzKlGGXQUsayLESn7LPTYiDqChFKod0qi5K7dbfpB-sb9aknw8Q0Sh4zYa0kHuudGp-Y/s1600/puha&capeweed+adax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIWgUNdQ2sDu25BV3k3jT74srhnzvUjP5EmeymV5GgvqFm5wNZ1R20GAeqJ_bo2o09YEWtd7PzKlGGXQUsayLESn7LPTYiDqChFKod0qi5K7dbfpB-sb9aknw8Q0Sh4zYa0kHuudGp-Y/s640/puha&capeweed+adax.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape weed (left) and puha, upper surfaces (scale=1cm)</td></tr>
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And here are the lower surfaces.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdg5KX_lo3cnv_Mg9QiAOlY9oa58ax727k82j8YEsh4av37CXLEsGkkg3za4XgEx7bqwz5h_WU8qFSumE7Zy3Vqqepr3-CW2xYG7RP5YrYWpJV5dPUafi2tssmNsw6DEhIQyNcMaV-EZY/s1600/puha&capeweed+abax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdg5KX_lo3cnv_Mg9QiAOlY9oa58ax727k82j8YEsh4av37CXLEsGkkg3za4XgEx7bqwz5h_WU8qFSumE7Zy3Vqqepr3-CW2xYG7RP5YrYWpJV5dPUafi2tssmNsw6DEhIQyNcMaV-EZY/s640/puha&capeweed+abax.jpg" width="448" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape weed (left) and puha, lower surfaces (scale=1cm)</td></tr>
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The Cape weed has more leaflets, a rounded, rather than triangular terminal leaflet, bristly hairs on the upper surface and a dense silvery mat of hairs below (puha leaves are hairless except for bristles at the tips of the teeth on the upper leaves). Cape weed's leaf stalk is also bristly compared to the smooth puha.<br />
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Of course, it'd be hard to confuse them in flower, but early growth is often the time when foragers collect, because some plants get bitter when they run to flower.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4iHYM9tXPcZj-lMzK7h9_BJClXWSVT-DQomklFTz_E6gdPKQVocByOG1xTWRaUcgzsPTGyWGEGPB-IRZD4vLiEEOmUmK9aaL1OWyfnVGdHn6k1UmtPiiJmTXG9gmLeF7mPG682ZjBS8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-08-13+at+5.29.01+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4iHYM9tXPcZj-lMzK7h9_BJClXWSVT-DQomklFTz_E6gdPKQVocByOG1xTWRaUcgzsPTGyWGEGPB-IRZD4vLiEEOmUmK9aaL1OWyfnVGdHn6k1UmtPiiJmTXG9gmLeF7mPG682ZjBS8/s640/Screen+Shot+2013-08-13+at+5.29.01+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape weed (left) and puha in flower.</td></tr>
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Cape weed is <a href="http://florabase.dpaw.wa.gov.au/browse/profile/7838">poisonous, but not very</a>, whereas puha is edible. Check out Johanna Knox's foraging <a href="http://foragerstreasury.blogspot.co.nz/p/id-gallery.html">website</a> for information, and always be sure you identify your target.<br />
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The moral of the story is that identifying plants from photos can be difficult. Often the diagnostic characteristics can't be seen and sometimes the colours recorded in a photo <a href="http://www.lensrentals.com/blog/2013/08/fun-with-color-vision">don't look the same</a> as in life. Plant taxonomists (specialists in the classification, naming, identification, and evolution of plants) often refuse to identify photos, but I believe that so long as people understand the pitfalls it's worth having a try. I really like the Naturewatch site, because it's self-correcting, democratic (everyone can have a go), and we all learn something from participating.<br />
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<br />Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-79102558429432956562013-07-31T04:26:00.001-07:002013-09-03T21:03:58.667-07:00Wednesday wildflower: old man's beard.<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Old man’s beard must go,” said the not-so-young bearded botanist <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Bellamy">David Bellamy</a> some years ago on TV, and we all knew this was a serious weed that threatened to smother our native forests. Since then, it’s not as common as it used to be. The efforts of the Department of Conservation, local and regional councils, community groups, and individual landowners have largely seen off the worst infestations in many places. But around Wellington city, and probably many other places, there are little pockets of old man’s beard everywhere. My guess is it’s waiting for our vigilance to let up and it’ll be back with a vengeance.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcC8OPbGqfiEDcifXQ_SVXT0MCr6aSAZq0DTPVKseyDJjy2maSozFPQbujjOCG9NroN-HCW8Q5UehHqtg2LrSWEw1gmjYfkjZoWFpGgKYc7dlxsuZQPIeLtChsdAvDBaXPjguAnTBqZ8/s1600/Clevit+Northland+Wgtn+FRUITS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcC8OPbGqfiEDcifXQ_SVXT0MCr6aSAZq0DTPVKseyDJjy2maSozFPQbujjOCG9NroN-HCW8Q5UehHqtg2LrSWEw1gmjYfkjZoWFpGgKYc7dlxsuZQPIeLtChsdAvDBaXPjguAnTBqZ8/s400/Clevit+Northland+Wgtn+FRUITS.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old man's beard fruits, Northland, Wellington.</td></tr>
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Old man’s beard is called traveller’s joy in England, which goes to show that one country’s wildflower is often another’s weed. The local name refers to the fluffy white plumes on the seeds. More accurately (with my pedantic botanist’s hat on) these aren’t seeds but fruits, each bearing a single seed inside a loose-fitting fruit wall. The flower, like many in the buttercup family, has multiple separate pistils, each with its own ovary, style and stigma. After pollination, the pistils from a flower mature into a cluster of separate 1-seeded fruits, each with the fluffy remains of the style to form a plume that assists in wind dispersal.</div>
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<span class="s1">One of the practical problems with a public eradication campaign is that people need to be able to recognise the target weed, and not try to eradicate look-alikes. Many people worry that they might be pulling up one of the native <i>Clematis</i> instead, so I thought this week a few notes about these plants might be useful.</span></div>
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First, old man’s beard (<i>Clematis vitalba</i>) is one of just two species in New Zealand with once-pinnate leaves; they have a central axis with a terminal leaflet and <i>two</i> pairs of lateral leaflets. The other species that’s characterised by once-pinnate leaves is <i>C. maximowiciana</i>, but its leaves are more leathery than the leaves of old man’s beard; also it has larger flowers, 30–50 mm diameter. Most of the other species have three leaflets although these can be quite finely divided. Two species, <i>C. tangutica</i> (yellow flowers) and <i>C. flammula</i> (white flowers), have twice-pinnate leaves (the pinnae [leaflets] are themselves pinnately divided). The native <i>C. afoliata</i> has no leaves at all, just the leaf stalks that twine around supporting shrubs’ stems.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old man's beard flowers, Kakariki, Manawatu. They are mostly 12–25 mm diameter</td></tr>
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Secondly, the introduced species mostly have 4 sepals in each flower, but many (not all) of the native ones have six. All the introduced <i>Clematis</i> have hermaphrodite flowers (with functional stamens and pistils) whereas the natives all have unisexual flowers on separate plants (flowers have either stamens or pistils, but never both).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1IMs7Rcc8M22AiwO4wumZM6fQ2mNk1mL4cLK-eZ_9Vm8t3FASzoOSCwcDFx-fCb0diJZSjrhH85w-LM749lDol34vRij8CJPDMiTcdIPaWdtGNfPOeqji1Zrr2sKU0PRb9g102CQe68/s1600/Clefor+FLOWERS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1IMs7Rcc8M22AiwO4wumZM6fQ2mNk1mL4cLK-eZ_9Vm8t3FASzoOSCwcDFx-fCb0diJZSjrhH85w-LM749lDol34vRij8CJPDMiTcdIPaWdtGNfPOeqji1Zrr2sKU0PRb9g102CQe68/s400/Clefor+FLOWERS.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Clematis forsteri</i>, a native species. Pale yellow male flowers with 6 sepals. If you see these, don't just look, sniff too: many are sweetly scented.</td></tr>
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Most of the native <i>Clematis</i> flower in the springtime or even late winter (some plants of <i>C. forsteri</i> are in flower now in late July). Old man’s beard is a summer-flowering plant, mostly from December to May.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qzv-Mkcxyf1y6pXBkY0TP4u7GPuOMXcfy-0G0vgmhqrMbFR056jVINA52nUlfdP17ZnKN76nTRI7QTeHxvtxBm4cXFOdylR1EHKQhdNJT-LUStUpGKJj2J0erMHIVflflPLEz5ReE5o/s1600/Clepan(BP)+FLOWERS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qzv-Mkcxyf1y6pXBkY0TP4u7GPuOMXcfy-0G0vgmhqrMbFR056jVINA52nUlfdP17ZnKN76nTRI7QTeHxvtxBm4cXFOdylR1EHKQhdNJT-LUStUpGKJj2J0erMHIVflflPLEz5ReE5o/s400/Clepan(BP)+FLOWERS.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Clematis paniculata</i>, another native species, male flowers.</td></tr>
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Old man's beard flowers are greenish white. Most natives have pale or greenish yellow flowers, although the large (and unisexual) flowers of <i>C. paniculata</i> are pure white, <i>C. marata</i> and <i>C. marmoraria</i> are white or greenish, and <i>C. <strike>marata</strike> quadribracteolata</i> (corrected 4 September 2013) brown or purplish brown. Finally, the introduced <i>Clematis</i> are all deciduous whereas the natives are all evergreen (except poor <i>C. afoliata</i>, which hasn’t got leaves to lose).</div>
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Old man's beard still must go, but let's hope no native <i>Clematis</i> get pulled out instead by well-meaning weed-busters. The <a href="http://floraseries.landcareresearch.co.nz/pages/Book.aspx?fileName=Flora%204.xml">Flora treatment</a> for their identification is on line at Landcare Research's website and you can find pictures identified by botanists at the <a href="http://naturewatch.org.nz/">Naturewatch</a> site..</div>
Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-21641631695807871372013-07-15T12:22:00.000-07:002013-07-15T12:22:15.638-07:00Wednesday wildflower: winter heliotropeWinter heliotrope isn't a true <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heliotropium">heliotrope</a>, but a daisy, related to the senecios I've featured in a few other entries in this series (<a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2012/08/wednesday-wildflower-velvet-groundsel.html">here</a> and <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2013/07/wednesday-wildflower-german-ivy.html">here</a>). But it is both a wildflower and a weed, a garden plant that has escaped.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofuwyBI8kCEEuRJC1AlWcj4bdiibuKizk6bGucldstNWkpMAW0dh_CgNTN1Hsc6VEeF5jz4NiEmEZecVjkIyrREjZ2cKHlJEzHGH5cb2YdDhiF43QzcY5uEd6BoWOhAwolxmMyxT7zkM/s1600/Petfra+habit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofuwyBI8kCEEuRJC1AlWcj4bdiibuKizk6bGucldstNWkpMAW0dh_CgNTN1Hsc6VEeF5jz4NiEmEZecVjkIyrREjZ2cKHlJEzHGH5cb2YdDhiF43QzcY5uEd6BoWOhAwolxmMyxT7zkM/s400/Petfra+habit.jpg" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter heliotrope, <i>Petasites fragrans</i>.</td></tr>
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This patch was in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aro_Valley">Aro Valley</a>, an old-established part of Wellington, originally working class but now a mix of gentrified old cottages and student flats, arty cafes and boutiques. The plants were in a garden that had a rather wild appearance; I'm sure its owner was deliberately aiming for a wilderness look.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsyvW8GnDXUKgYRdOxHZZaTMC-8juovhp8JKS19KOO8u4lpXT5ScY1Mf-fBEfd09DHFnvoeBYnx80aXmz9KD9OFaohg-6APlH3r9cPlLc4ZBV0WT5tjo-p7wYURncQyrRwkxMO-MR4ss/s1600/Petfra+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsyvW8GnDXUKgYRdOxHZZaTMC-8juovhp8JKS19KOO8u4lpXT5ScY1Mf-fBEfd09DHFnvoeBYnx80aXmz9KD9OFaohg-6APlH3r9cPlLc4ZBV0WT5tjo-p7wYURncQyrRwkxMO-MR4ss/s400/Petfra+flowers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter heliotrope flower heads.</td></tr>
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The flowers are pink, instead of the usual yellow for this tribe of daisies (Tribe Senecioneae, characterised by the involucral bracts being in a single row, not in overlapping rows like roof shingles). Winter heliotrope is dioecious (has separate male and female plants), but all the plants in New Zealand are males. Their outer ray florets are all sterile (they make neither pollen nor seeds); ray florets are female in most daisies (the general structure of daisy flower heads is explained <a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2012/04/mugwort-sex.html">here</a>). The inner disk florets are male (often hermaphrodite in other daisies). Not being able to have sex doesn't deter this plant a bit, because it is able to spread vegetatively, and of course people deliberately and inadvertently help that process.<br />
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You might note the stigmas in these florets, the large white somewhat feathery things poking through the tube of purple anthers in the centre of these florets. How come male florets have such a large stigma? In this and several other families, the pollen is presented on the stigma, so even though the florets are male, they still need well-developed female parts for pollen dissemination. In a hermaphrodite daisy floret, the stigma opens after the pollen has gone to expose the two receptive surfaces. I didn't examine these closely at the time, but in the photo I can't see any that have opened.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-91836533683164603252013-07-03T22:54:00.000-07:002013-07-03T22:54:13.064-07:00Wednesday wildflower: German ivy, Delairea odorataIt's Thursday evening in New Zealand, but it's still Wednesday on the west coast of North America and the eastern Pacific, so if I'm quick I can post a Wednesday Wildflower on time. I haven't posted here much lately, but I'm working enthusiastically on a new project that I'll write about soon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdXfobVbK4oIXQdfOt0RxnZYu5nuroFXX2UxuZSvxUvUOV9CRMvsSAOPdt5AuSUwh6vheKYeBZydoa5-8Df5zz04X36oZF4vOZii08mzYSQO7b55sHpsIjsF7V6qIkhA8Q1B-VCxxY-Q/s600/Delmik+habit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdXfobVbK4oIXQdfOt0RxnZYu5nuroFXX2UxuZSvxUvUOV9CRMvsSAOPdt5AuSUwh6vheKYeBZydoa5-8Df5zz04X36oZF4vOZii08mzYSQO7b55sHpsIjsF7V6qIkhA8Q1B-VCxxY-Q/s400/Delmik+habit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">German ivy on a bank in Karori, Wellington, with broom, <i>Cytisus scoparius.</i></td></tr>
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<i>Delairea odorata</i> is a climbing senecioid weed that's native to southern Africa and common around Wellington and tends to flower in the winter. It sprawls over banks and other plants.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzwIbPKo1LZxpltHil89oVRCC0F4289ZzMDJfdXXbYoYnbTtQHwwq1rvxPj2Xq30NSLnhrsmrkZ1DfcouHfpNLUgDq6atVKVtdpVaF7eR9Ot9Hn1o0badriDb1DUsBXuj8L033TXGfU0/s600/Delmik+fls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzwIbPKo1LZxpltHil89oVRCC0F4289ZzMDJfdXXbYoYnbTtQHwwq1rvxPj2Xq30NSLnhrsmrkZ1DfcouHfpNLUgDq6atVKVtdpVaF7eR9Ot9Hn1o0badriDb1DUsBXuj8L033TXGfU0/s400/Delmik+fls.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the flower heads of a panicle of German ivy (iPhone with Ōlloclip macro)</td></tr>
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The flowers are in small heads and there are no ray florets, only disc florets (compare with my post on the distantly related <i><a href="http://theobrominated.blogspot.co.nz/2012/08/wednesday-wildflower-velvet-groundsel.html">Roldana</a></i>). The small heads are arranged into larger panicles that are quite showy and rather unpleasantly scented (in my opinion; it's very subjective).<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgF84XyFDfu2cYzxRnnEPtlj79h-kkTHUF7q2d04TY4aGCcIeyHLksKMh7FjBZr7uiZVQkhTqDmKEfeTgIcoJvHuGx8oAZ2N8c9sjOKcG0iUv9NnUCjCy7P3Y2qdzwgsgjKAdyCMe0Iw/s600/Delmik+head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgF84XyFDfu2cYzxRnnEPtlj79h-kkTHUF7q2d04TY4aGCcIeyHLksKMh7FjBZr7uiZVQkhTqDmKEfeTgIcoJvHuGx8oAZ2N8c9sjOKcG0iUv9NnUCjCy7P3Y2qdzwgsgjKAdyCMe0Iw/s400/Delmik+head.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A single capitulum (head) of German ivy. Note the absence of petal-like ray florets and the evident filaments at lower right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Under the microscope, you can see how the anthers are joined together in a tube that surrounds the style, but the filaments (anther stalks) are separate. That's a characteristic of the whole family. The senecioids (Tribe Senecioneae) are characterised by having their involucral bracts (the sepal-like leaves that surround the base of the head) all in a single row.<br />
<br />
<br />Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-46432818093120252952013-05-22T03:04:00.000-07:002013-05-22T03:04:52.854-07:00Wednesday Wildflower: Brazilian pepper treeI've been wondering about some trees in Sunnynook Park every time I visit Auckland. From the shape of their leaves and their panicles of small flowers I had assumed they're something in the Cunoniaceae. But I should have been more curious and looked more closely, because these leaves are alternate, whereas Cunoniaceae have opposite leaves with interpetiolar stipules.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtA_qXdLBZb-ZMyX8FGgK6o6AQJCiHzkh7LuqddKSfxskM0nX5OT4Z7wllyF86G6YPSnscS_o_bc-yvfPuOa3SHw1BuTNjuFcLF5vh59j8RI6QrEC8Yqn3xpFpcQ-JKU9Xo8eA3JUp0i8/s1600/Schter+habit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtA_qXdLBZb-ZMyX8FGgK6o6AQJCiHzkh7LuqddKSfxskM0nX5OT4Z7wllyF86G6YPSnscS_o_bc-yvfPuOa3SHw1BuTNjuFcLF5vh59j8RI6QrEC8Yqn3xpFpcQ-JKU9Xo8eA3JUp0i8/s400/Schter+habit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Schinus terebinthifolius</i>, a flowering branchlet from a female tree.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This week I was there again and saw one of the trees had little round pinkish fruits, and I realised this is <i>Schinus terebinthifolius</i>. I knew <i>S. molle</i>, which has more graceful hanging leaves, and I knew the fruits of <i>S. terebinthifolius</i> are the pink peppercorns you sometimes see mixed with black peppercorns (<i>Piper nigrum</i>) in pepper grinders. (Pink pepper, confusingly, is made with true black peppercorns, using newly-ripened berries and treating them with brine and vinegar, described by McGee, 2004.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27jhDRghE9Ib21aYT6t1KcshE4bFgW26DLVL6-E_cVkUGe1yU2vvd1My_jL11OjhzeFHySDFlUaoSv7ng8oICQ87pX4HHxjcDDFBbWh_-aqHaTgg__3pqlCgAXyzEFMOqy9LfcaLhlQM/s1600/schter+fruits.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27jhDRghE9Ib21aYT6t1KcshE4bFgW26DLVL6-E_cVkUGe1yU2vvd1My_jL11OjhzeFHySDFlUaoSv7ng8oICQ87pX4HHxjcDDFBbWh_-aqHaTgg__3pqlCgAXyzEFMOqy9LfcaLhlQM/s320/schter+fruits.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It's becoming a bit of a problem weed in New Zealand and <a href="http://www.nzflora.info/factsheet/Weed/Schinus_terebinthifolius.html">worrying some weed experts</a>. Back in 1988, Flora of New Zealand Vol. 4 didn't record it as naturalised (Webb et al. 1988), but now it seems to be establishing. It's a major weed in many warmer countries. The trees in Sunnynook Park don't seem to be spreading, although there appear to be suckers coming up from the roots. Most of the trees there are male, but I did spot a couple of females.<br />
<br />
It seems a lot of our new weeds are woody, and many are bird-dispersed. I wonder how many originate from more tropical climates and owe their success here to climate change.<br />
<br />
The Flora says it has 5–9 leaflets. The leaf I randomly chose to photograph had 11:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_tGB1YE_cBY4knOkklYRU8Ed6WKlokAZidjlsvVaCUwSJtL5Js5NMoxJxEtk6zOrKPu8HTW0NItv3852qjBEv4JkgbIzhpRYdGvHcs_Yf08zxW4isPAWLi9ugXgENZ5UbOQGvpzfFOgY/s1600/Scter+leaf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_tGB1YE_cBY4knOkklYRU8Ed6WKlokAZidjlsvVaCUwSJtL5Js5NMoxJxEtk6zOrKPu8HTW0NItv3852qjBEv4JkgbIzhpRYdGvHcs_Yf08zxW4isPAWLi9ugXgENZ5UbOQGvpzfFOgY/s400/Scter+leaf.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: start;"><i>Schinus terebinthifolius</i> leaf</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That doesn't mean the identification is wrong. Many characteristics of plants are more variable than the descriptions cover, partly because the descriptions are based on a smallish sample that doesn't allow for the odd extreme.<br />
<br />
Pink pepper is in the family Anacardiaceae, the same family as mango, cashew, and poison ivy; some people are very allergic to this family. According to McGee (2004) it owes its peppery flavour to cardanol, an irritating phenolic compound.<br />
<br />
<b>References</b>.<br />
<br />
McGee, H. 2004. On food and cooking, the science and lore of the kitchen. (Revised edition), Scribner.<br />
<br />
Webb, C.J.; Sykes, W.R.; Garnock-Jones, P.J. 1988. Flora of New Zealand Vol. 4. Botany Division, DSIR.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-3671239707151513602013-05-15T01:42:00.000-07:002013-05-15T01:44:05.919-07:00Wednesday wildflower: Red carpet, brown carpetWhen I use the term wildflower, it's often to avoid the judgmental term "weed". I like most plants, and if other people have species they don't like, well, that doesn't necessarily stop me enjoying them. Furthermore, plants we designate as weeds are often biologically very interesting. To a botanist, the term "weediness" has an ecological meaning that signifies more than a nuisance plant.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vm0L7eLOxEowHwz8LgCU7ffPKsrcQqmtoceDP-tOVLY8NZoQ17d9giWpc6XgfzCEU201n5hkSxTo18hZ05KxH3q9FAmIdR-dZemFfvbyjAuiO1lcbr2emd1dmK1VImQ_UetMzCvvmVI/s1600/Metexc+fls+Aro+500px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vm0L7eLOxEowHwz8LgCU7ffPKsrcQqmtoceDP-tOVLY8NZoQ17d9giWpc6XgfzCEU201n5hkSxTo18hZ05KxH3q9FAmIdR-dZemFfvbyjAuiO1lcbr2emd1dmK1VImQ_UetMzCvvmVI/s400/Metexc+fls+Aro+500px.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pōhutukawa flowers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
One of the interesting things weeds do well is reproduce. All that any plant or animal needs to do is to reproduce itself at least once, but because an outcrossing sexual plant or animal contributes only one of its two sets of genes to each offspring it must do it twice to break even. Even then, reproducing a few times doesn't guarantee the survival of <i>all</i> your genetic material, because which copies of genes get into a sperm or egg is random. But some plants seem to reproduce in overdrive.<br />
<br />
Weeds often succeed because they out-reproduce other plants. Some are long-lived and may spread vegetatively, but others produce huge numbers of seeds.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5z6yI2YSmyk_Lde8-4R5ZtQgtLKJmEYj2GbIilq7cxdRanw4EluDL4y_adApZXHWCc6oL_zHu95OqXpdWfI8XWY9PS6Rnn0t-OBY9qH2hPFL1yYZpTWaFXUdr9ZLf6LJZQQV1MPa8nII/s1600/Metexc+Aro+St+500px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5z6yI2YSmyk_Lde8-4R5ZtQgtLKJmEYj2GbIilq7cxdRanw4EluDL4y_adApZXHWCc6oL_zHu95OqXpdWfI8XWY9PS6Rnn0t-OBY9qH2hPFL1yYZpTWaFXUdr9ZLf6LJZQQV1MPa8nII/s400/Metexc+Aro+St+500px.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few red stamens have accumulated in the gutter beneath these trees, but sometimes, if it's not windy, a thick red carpet can build up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today's wildflower is a weed in the biological sense, but to New Zealanders it's a much-loved native flowering tree, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metrosideros_excelsa">pōhutukawa, <i>Metrosideros excelsa</i>.</a> Pōhutukawa puts a lot of effort into reproduction, and that's probably why it's an unwanted weed in some other parts of the world where it has been introduced as an ornamental, like <a href="http://www.sanbi.org/information/infobases/invasive-alien-plant-alert/metrosideros-excelsa">South Africa</a> and <a href="http://plantpono.org/inv-plant.php?id=23">Hawai'i</a>. Some people also consider it a weed in parts of New Zealand that are outside of its native range, such as <a href="http://www.gw.govt.nz/native-plant-guide/">Wellington</a>, because it's invasive and aggressive there too.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqhqF1Er8G1OCwOZQvzR1Js1-gTsnQLpUvpIMOZgBtbLKS24c6Jd8e_mC8vVJTxsPpw3W_dj_wyls4W1zbgLq6CaKhry_jFwllZJ_pVehShyphenhyphen6gwR53vIBG8yvB8pRALrehgHd38xTEKyg/s1600/Metexc+44Ponsonby+2011+500px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqhqF1Er8G1OCwOZQvzR1Js1-gTsnQLpUvpIMOZgBtbLKS24c6Jd8e_mC8vVJTxsPpw3W_dj_wyls4W1zbgLq6CaKhry_jFwllZJ_pVehShyphenhyphen6gwR53vIBG8yvB8pRALrehgHd38xTEKyg/s400/Metexc+44Ponsonby+2011+500px.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cluster of pōhutukawa flowers; each individual flower has about 25 red stamens (with yellow anthers) and one red style.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Pōhutukawa reproduction seems wasteful. The trees flower profusely around Christmas time in New Zealand and in the later part of each flower's life the bright red stamens fall to the ground where they can form a thick red carpet. This isn't over-production particularly; it's just that the red stamens are so visible and there are so many flowers producing them. They can be dispensed with once their pollen has been dispersed. They're visible for a good reason: pōhutukawa is primarily pollinated by birds (tūī, bellbirds, but also silvereyes and starlings) and the red colour attracts them because birds see well in the red wavelengths.<br />
<br />
A bit later in the summer, many of the old flowers themselves fall. I guess these are flowers that aren't setting seed; they no longer have a function and the plant can discard them. I don't know whether these are functionally male flowers or simply flowers that didn't get pollinated, but these form a pale grey-green carpet for a time.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHot3d5NIxUg3XVKCCiznKgSVB6f_mqQHT6Qp8IUUNxrfMLNDYwVF3U8G1Z3D-JhCmlxKwBthgJnYEpq8XDKSidlnqd21PxKE2gCT3gBS3DBtnZFRe1Dm9f7HY_ZUhbvIO4xmpxzg-iJc/s1600/Metexc+seeds+in+gutter+500px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHot3d5NIxUg3XVKCCiznKgSVB6f_mqQHT6Qp8IUUNxrfMLNDYwVF3U8G1Z3D-JhCmlxKwBthgJnYEpq8XDKSidlnqd21PxKE2gCT3gBS3DBtnZFRe1Dm9f7HY_ZUhbvIO4xmpxzg-iJc/s400/Metexc+seeds+in+gutter+500px.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pōhutukawa seeds in the gutter, Kelburn, Wellington</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The third big dump of reproductive material is happening about now in Wellington, and that's the dispersal of seeds in their millions. Most of these are never going to germinate. They pile up in gutters, on footpaths, and at the bases of walls. I'd like to do a rough calculation of the weight of stamens, aborted flowers, and seeds produced by a large pōhutukawa tree in a season; I think we'd all be surprised. Multiply that, whatever it is, by the number of trees in Wellington and that's a lot of biomass falling to the ground each year.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqrnJ8fCNl2dB96-Ag8Men9NcBsCzhhA2VL8MUGWqFJZ3iK8M7wlTE6W24F3zNP-fmdHpIVGQUAZmA7EfOj3ZCybPa6Pard6iMv2y_Y85DJcFryWnT9RD0lLoqtLrQ92TPvJYrZslOplI/s1600/Pohutukawa+seeds+500px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqrnJ8fCNl2dB96-Ag8Men9NcBsCzhhA2VL8MUGWqFJZ3iK8M7wlTE6W24F3zNP-fmdHpIVGQUAZmA7EfOj3ZCybPa6Pard6iMv2y_Y85DJcFryWnT9RD0lLoqtLrQ92TPvJYrZslOplI/s400/Pohutukawa+seeds+500px.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pōhutukawa seeds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This prodigious reproductive effort is one of the attributes that makes pōhutukawa such a successful plant, and it's a trait normally associated with weediness. No wonder then that our Christmas tree has become a pest in places.Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508998463866407663.post-83992944377533090332013-05-07T00:02:00.000-07:002013-05-07T13:19:00.955-07:00The Barber'sGetting a haircut in the 50s and
60s was a very masculine thing.
The Barber’s was an all male environment and you had to know, really <i>know</i>, how to behave there. If your mother came in with you, she wouldn’t stay long
(you’d hope).<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
The Barber was a wizened and
enigmatic character, his thinning hair Brylcreemed back, or sidewards in a
comb-over if it was thinning too much.
His face was haggard and he smoked; he looked a bit like a jockey. You didn’t want to piss this guy off:
he could kick you out of the shop, or probably something worse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
My first haircut in New Zealand was
in 1955, in Whanganui. I don’t
remember getting it cut in England, but oh boy this was memorable. The shop smelled of Bay Rum, Brylcreem,
and cigarette smoke. I was five.
My Dad took me, and The Barber had this <a href="http://thatantiquebarberchair.blogspot.com/2013/01/history-of-koken-barber-chairs.html">enormous wrought iron barber’schair</a>. I was thinking, “how am I going to get up into that?”, when he produced
a seat on a plank that sat across the arm-rests, and lifted me up onto it. It had leather padding and its own
little arm-rests, and I felt really special. But the hand-operated clippers pulled at my hair and I
squirmed. Eventually The Barber
got so grumpy he whacked me over the head with the handles of the
scissors. I didn’t dare cry, and
Dad didn’t come to my rescue, such was the manly power of The Barber.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
Later, in Tawa, The Barber’s became
a regular ritual. You’d be dropped
off there to wait your turn and get your hair cut, usually on a Friday after
school. There was a long bench
seat that ran around three sides of the shop, and you took your place at one
end and shuffled along as each boy’s hair was done. Sometimes there were too many waiting and you had to stand
until a seat became free. There
were comics to read, and that was the best thing. We were only allowed “Classics” comics at home, which told
the stories of Dickens and the like in comic form, but here was the real thing:
Phantom, all the Disney characters, and best of all, war comics. Battler Britton, scrambled by an air
raid during a cricket match on the village green, runs out of ammo over
occupied France, and bowls the cricket ball he had stuffed into his battledress
pocket to switch over the railway points and send the German ammunition train
crashing into a horrendous explosion!
We always drew Spitfires and Hurricanes on the backs of our school
books.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
The Barber had a big poster behind
the counter. It was a kangaroo,
leaping, with envelopes spilling out of its (her) pouch, and the caption “We post
to Australia”. I sat and stared at
this, and I still don’t know what it meant. I suspect it had to do with gambling; maybe the barber was
an agent for Tattersall’s Lottery or something. It was all exotic and dark. Men, real men who smoked and swore, would come in, and the
barber would leave off cutting hair and go behind the counter. There would be a quiet conversation and
money would change hands, but I never understood what was going on. Later I learned that barbers sold condoms
(we called them “Frenchies”), but I always suspected these clandestine
transactions had something to do with the flying kangaroo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
After an hour or two of comics and
shuffling along the bench, you’d finally get to have your hair cut. It was always a bit off the top and
short back and sides, even if you asked for something else. When the cutting was done, he’d
violently rub in some Brylcreem, slapping your head about in the process, comb
and brush your hair into a bit of a style, flick the cut hairs off your collar,
and finish off with a little spray of smelly stuff. Everyone’s hairstyle was the same. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
By about 1964 we all wanted Beatles
haircuts, long enough to be thought Fab, but short enough not to earn a
detention. The barber never
understood this; we all walked out with short back and sides, then put off our
next visit as long as we could and combed our hair, what was left of it,
forward as much as we could; making the best of a bad job, a bit like The
Barber’s comb-over.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
After the barber’s, if you were
lucky, was fish and chips for dinner, and you could buy a classic comic at the
bookshop, or a 45 rpm record. I
remember buying “A Fool Such As I” by Elvis Presley. I’ve still got it somewhere. But no more barber’s for me; I don’t have enough hair any more.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Phil Garnock-Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010415287478039865noreply@blogger.com1