The Exotic Climatron

Plinia cauliflora (Jaboticaba)

Plinia cauliflora (Jaboticaba)

Plinia cauliflora (Jaboticaba)

Dryelle Pallaoro and Talon

One of the most interesting tropicals is Plinia cauliflora, an evergreen tree commonly known as the “Brazilian Grape tree,” or jaboticaba. I first became aware of it because we hosted a Brazilian intern, Dryelle Pallaoro, about 8 years ago and she claimed the fruit was the best in the world. I wasn't certain about that opinion, but I loved the sound of the name “jaboticaba,” especially coming out of her smiling lips. Dryelle was a happy, intelligent employee with a scientific agriculture background, but maybe her enthusiasm for the tree was because an old specimen grew in her front yard in Cuiaba and she was homesick for Brazil (and her Brazilian boyfriend). In any case I ordered a couple of trees online – I guess in Dryelle's honor – and they performed well for a couple of years in GH20, my warmest greenhouse. Sadly the heater failed one night and the two USDA zone 10 plants perished when the temperature plummeted into the teens, so adeus to that project before I could sample any fruit.

Haruko and Benjamin

Missouri Botanic Garden Climatron

I completely forgot about the grape trees with the cute name until a couple of weeks ago, when Haruko and I stumbled into a specimen housed at the Missouri Botanic Garden's Climatron in St. Louis. Grapes develop along the trunk and branches, and also the small sparkling white flowers add additional interest to the ornamentally colorful trunk. An employee who was watering in the tropical house noticed my interest in the tree, and he also made a point to speak a few phrases of Japanese with my wife. His name was Benjamin and I would have guessed he was Brazilian, but in fact he was from Guam, and I think he is the only Guamanian that either Haruko or I have ever met. Since we three were the only ones in the Climatron, Benjamin picked a dark purple grape for us to sample, and my goodness, it was sweet and gooey, absolutely delicious. I wondered if any of the elite, high-priced grocery stores in the Portland area stock jaboticaba, or if there's such a thing as a jelly or preserve that might be available. I see no reason why you couldn't make a tasty wine as well.

For quite some time I've had an urge to visit the Missouri Botanic Garden, but of course I was always bogged down with family and business. Since I was obligated to attend the Maple Society in North Carolina at the end of October, I suddenly invented the need to schedule a stop-over in St. Louis. I knew that the botanic garden was home to a conservatory, but I didn't know it was a Climatron set in a geodesic dome. The structure was completed in 1960, the world's first totally air-conditioned greenhouse and was enclosed in aluminum and plexiglass, which must have seemed so modern back then. The half-sphere measures 42m (137.8 ft) in width and 21m (68.9 ft) tall, and in 1976 it was named one of the 100 most significant architectural accomplishments in United States history. Today it contains over 400 different taxa in distinct climate ranges from the Amazon to Hawaii, Java and India. Flood lights revolve at night in five-minute cycles which simulate noon light on one side of the dome and moonlight on the other side. Of course I fantasize about winning the lottery, building my own Climatron and hiring Benjamin to run it.

Ficus benghalensis

The main problem that faces the staff is how to jam in 400+ species in a limited space, so that they don't crowd each other out...as they do in nature. One behemoth to deal with is a banyan (also spelled banian), a Ficus (fig) benghalensis in the Moraceae family from India, and I have seen huge specimens in Nepal and India.* They're impressive as the trees develop accessory trunks from aventitious prop roots, allowing the tree to spread indefinitely. Furthermore the banyan begins life as an epiphyte, growing on another plant and getting its moisture and nutrients from the air and rain. As it grows the prop roots help support a canopy which can be immense, all of which can hog an acre or two. Maybe when Benjamin finishes his watering chores, he tackles the fig to keep it in bounds.

*Locally it is known as the “wish fulfilling tree” and is considered sacred to Hindus in India.

Nepenthes species

Nepenthes species

Pitcher plants of a Nepenthes species were dangling from a mossy log. As with the Sarracenia genus I mentioned a week ago, the Nepenthes trap insects that are lured with secreting nectar; once the prey falls into the liquid it is digested by enzymes, providing the required nutrition. The genus is in the monotypic family Nepenthaceae, primarily from southeast Asia including Borneo, Sumatra, Malaysia, India etc., and they are commonly called “monkey cups.” One species, N. attenboroughii is named for the famous British naturalist, Richard Attenborough, and is known to be the largest carnivorous plant, reaching nearly 5' tall with pitchers up to a foot in diameter. The genus name was first published in 1753 by Carl Linnaeus in Species Plantarum, and refers to a passage in Homer's Odyssey when a potion is given to Helen by an Egyptian queen. Nepenthe means “without grief” and in Greek mythology, it's a drug that eliminates all sorrows with forgetfulness. In the old days of British horticulture Nepenthes became popular as “stove plants,” and the famous Veitch Nursery firm actually sent out plant hunters to the tropics to bring back new species.

Hibiscus schizopetalus

Haruko photographed a pretty pink-red blossom commonly called a “Fringed rosemallow” or “Japanese lantern”* from Africa, and I was surprised that the label identified it as Hibiscus schizopetalus. It normally grows as an evergreen woody shrub, but it is hardy to only USDA zone 10. The specific epithet schizopetalus does not imply a mental disorder, rather it just means “split” and petalus means the “divided petals” of each flower. It is considered easy to grow as a house plant and can bloom throughout the year. In England it received the prestigious Award of Garden Merit by the Royal Horticultural Society.

*No, not native to Japan at all.

Heliconia collinsiana

Another blossom that caught Haruko's eye was Heliconia collinsiana, a strange-looking exotic from southern Mexico and Nicaragua. The genus name comes from the Latin Heliconius, from the Helicon mountain sacred to Apollo and the Muses in Greek mythology, while the species epithet honors the American botanist Guy N Collins (1872-1938). Flowers appear on drooping terminal spikes and fruits are globose drupes that are initially yellow, then turn to glossy dark blue when ripe. The flowers look like miniature “birds of paradise” and they are also commonly called “lobster claws” or toucan beak” and they are pollinated mainly by hummingbirds.

x Citrofortunella microcarpa

An orange from the Philippines, x Citrofortunella microcarpa, was in fruit, and the common name of “Orange calamondin” refers to it being a natural hybrid between mandarins and kumquats. It is hardy to USDA zone 9 or 20F and it's a wonderful patio tree as long as you have winter protection. The white flowers are fragrant and they are set off with shiny, dark evergreen foliage. I actually grew a calamondin as a house plant as I thought it would be cool to pick my own oranges. However the flower buds would fall off before developing fruit, probably because the air was too dry, and then the damn thing grew infested with scale and I threw it out. Hopefully Benjamin has the scale problem figured out and he can enjoy oranges with his jaboticaba grapes.

Anthurium wendlingeri

Anthurium wendlingeri must fascinate all who see it due to a pendent, white corkscrew inflorescence. The Climatron had a plant flower by 1986 when the rare species was just first described in 1965 based on a living plant in Costa Rica. The genus is in the arum family and etymologically speaking it is derived from Greek anthos for “flower” and oura for “tail,” for obvious reasons. Anthuriums are popular house plants and my daughter even grows one, but the wendlingeri species still commands a huge price, well above her teenage means.

Pavonia multiflora

Dedication to Jose Pavon Jimenez in Spain

Maybe more affordable would be a plant of “Brazilian candles,” Pavonia multiflora, and the erect pinkish-red blossoms are sure to impress...because, well, they look surrealistically vibrant sitting atop their green jungle leaves. Multiflora easily describes the many flowers which appear year-round while the generic name honors the Spanish botanist Jose Pavon Jimenez (1754-1844). The genus growing in the Climatron is native to Brazil, but it also occurs in Africa.

Pistia stratiotes

Pistia stratiotes

A pool of water in the Climatron contained an aquatic weed in the “arum family” (Araceae), Pistia stratiotes, and it is often called “Water cabbage” or “Nile cabbage,” and was first discovered from the Nile near Lake Victoria. Now it is found in many tropical fresh waterways around the world and is considered an invasive species and a notorious mosquito breeding habitat. The little biters lay their eggs under the Pistia's leaves; 24 hours later the emerging larvae attach to the cabbage roots and one week later they develop into adults capable of spreading malaria. The genus name is from the Greek word pistos meaning “water” and the species name is also from a Greek word meaning “soldier” since some plants in the genus display sword-shaped leaves. Even though it was first discovered from the Nile, its origin remains uncertain, but perhaps even from South America. Nevertheless, the plant is described from Egyptian hieroglyphics and was known to the Greek botanists Dioscorides and Theophrastus. It is common now in southeast USA, particularly Florida and was recorded by the American botanist William Bartram in 1765. The weed is considered edible but not palatable – to humans that is – but both ducks and pigs find it tasty.

Malpighia coccigera with solo pink blossom

Marcello Malpighi

A tiny-leaved holly is the slow-growing, spreading evergreen Malpighia coccigera. It is commonly called "Singapore holly" and is native to the West Indies, but I'll never grow it because it reportedly dislikes temperatures below 55F. Pink or white, trumpet-shaped flowers (to about 1/2 inch) are produced in summer, followed by red berries, but it is not at all related to the holly genus, Ilex. The genus name honors Marcello Malpighi (1628-1694), a famous anatomy professor at Bologna.

Dioon edule

T-Rex in the Climatron

Dioon edule is a cycad native to Mexico, known as the “chestnut dioon” and also as “palma de la virgen.” The genus name “Dioon” means “two-egged,” referring to its two ovules, and D. edule was originally described by John Lindley in 1843. The cycads are among the oldest seed plants and they pre-date the dinosaurs. Imagine the fun the public would have if a miniature dinosaur was allowed to roam through the Climatron.

Costus pictus

Costus pictus impressed me greatly for an erect, conifer-cone-like protrudance rising above tropical green leaves. The “Painted Spiral ginger” is native to Mexico and the “painted” description describes a yellow with red-striped flower which wasn’t still present upon our arrival in early November. The perennial herb is also popularly grown in India and floraofindia.net indicates its medicinal uses for “tonic, stimulant and antiseptic properties” – you know, those qualities discovered by the indigenous hundreds of years ago – but my interest piqued with the claim that Costus pictus is effective from keeping one’s hair from turning gray, and also as an effective aphrodisiac. But my wife says I don’t need to worry about those two situations.

Costus megalobractea

Nicholas Culpeper

The genus name Costus was published by Linnaeus in 1753 in his Species Plantarum, while the English herbalist Nicholas Culpeper (1616-1654) knew it as “cost” or “coste” and wrote: “Being boiled in oil, it is held to help the gout by anointing the grieved place with it,” but I’m not sure what genus or species Culpeper was writing about. Today the Latinized Costus name is employed, thanks to Linnaeus. Another species, C. megalobractea, was growing near the C. pictus and it featured glossy green cones as well. White orchid-like flowers will pop out from the green bracts but we were too late to see this South African species flower. Be careful with C. megalobracteata concerning supposed medical cures, for it is commonly called the “Kiss of Death.”

Crinum asiaticum

Crinum asiaticum was showing off with a blossom, but caution there too as it is known as “poison bulb.” It is a perennial with spider-lily-like flowers, however all parts of the plant are toxic. It is native to eastern Asia, Australia and Pacific islands, but it has also naturalized in the Americas including Florida, Louisiana, and California. The Tao people native to Taiwan’s Orchid Island use portions of the stem (vaKong) to bait fish going into their nets, and presumably no one vomits or attains a fever by consuming the piscatorials. Probably of more concern to the indigenous islanders is that their lives are affected by a nuclear waste-storage facility, built in 1982 without first consulting the residents. The locals protested of course but Taipower’s three nuclear plants still use the facility, and furthermore the Taiwanese air force continues to pound Lesser Orchid Island for target practice. Maybe the Tao people should fire back at the air force with bulbs of Crinum asiaticum which can weigh up to 25 pounds each.

Alpina vittata

Prosperus Alpinus

Alpina vittata is the “Variegated ginger” with its streaks of white splashed onto narrow, pointed leaves, a rainforest terrestrial native to Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands. I’ve never seen it in flower –  supposedly tubular, white-to-pink colored – but with the lively foliage one might not notice the flowers anyway. The Alpina genus was named for Prospero Alpini (1553-1617), an Italian botanist who specialized in exotic plants, and is the largest genus in the ginger family (Zingiberaceae). “Prospero” – a name I covet – travelled in Egypt and described the plants he encountered, and there he learned of sexual difference in plants, an important influence to the foundation of the Linnaean taxonomy system. He discovered, for example, that the female date palms do not bear fruit unless the branches of the male and female plants are mixed together. In 1593 he was appointed Professor of Botany at Padua in Italy, a garden my daughter visited last summer at my bequest, and later in 1603 he was appointed head of the institution and his name was Latinized as Prosperus Alpinus. I doubt that the learned Italian ever saw Alpina vittata, nevertheless Linnaeus bestowed a genus name for him.

Fittonia albivenis

Conversations on Botany by Elizabeth and Sarah Fitton

The tropical “Silver fittonia,” Fittonia albivenis, is an evergreen perennial from the rainforests of Peru and Columbia, but you’re probably familiar with the USDA zone 11 (to 40 F) species as a houseplant. It can be touchy as thus, especially prone to overwatering, but also if permitted to dry out. The genus name honors sisters Elizabeth and Sarah Fitton, authors of Conversations on Botany (1817), while the specific epithet albivenis obviously refers to the plant’s white veins.

Plant hanging from the Rhizophra mangle

Plant hanging from the Rhizophra mangle

Rhizophora mangle

Concerning plant identification, if one is fairly ignorant about tropical plants such as I, you’re not always sure if the nearest label belongs to the specimen you are inspecting. For example, the lichen-looking plant (above) had a label that identified it as Rhizophora mangle, and for looking like an unkept beard, I chuckled at the amusing specific epithet. However I later learned that the interesting beard was not the “mangle” at all, rather the name referred to the “Red mangrove” tree that it was drooping from.

Vine climbing on Ceiba pentandra

Another plant that remained unidentified was a vine which snaked neatly up a brown trunk. Haruko and I were both fascinated, like we were experiencing one of Andy Goldsworthy’s creations – and look up his work on the internet. Alas, the label actually belonged to the tree it was climbing into, a Ceiba pentandra, a large tree with seed pods (Kapok) with cotton-like fluffs. The host tree’s bark is used to treat headaches, but it too is an aphrodisiac, so apparently it can cure more aches than just those of the head. Benjamin was gone on break I guess, so the vine remained unknown to us, even though we thought it was the coolest plant in the hot house.

What an incredible achievement, though, to grow 400 different plants in the Climatron when they each have individual cultural preferences – kind of like keeping 400 individual humans happy with their different cultural backgrounds. But everything looked healthy and bug free – maybe there’s a bull-pen greenhouse where the sickly can go to convalesce. The operating budget must be immense, especially compared to caring for the trees and shrubs growing outside, so the casual visitor or the botanist must applaud the commitment of the Missouri Botanic Garden and the supportive citizens of St. Louis.

Haruko and I were in the structure early in the peaceful morning, but soon enough the paths were filled with loud, rambunctious kids. The garden exists to instruct and inspire visitors, which it certainly does, and I agree that children should be allowed to enter…as long as they are muzzled and leashed. I don’t know, Benjamin seemed like a tolerant caretaker, but if I held the watering hose, I might, uh, accidentally drench a screaming brat.

Deidre and Maura (by Don Weigand)

Next week the Flora Wonder Blog will examine the vast array of trees and shrubs growing outside the Climatron. Hurry up kids – keep up with us.