I have visited the woodsy native garden at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens several times this year to see how it tells its stories through the seasons, and how these stories might translate to the urban corner of East Houston and 2nd Avenue... It is a genre that rewards an eye for detail, because one sometimes has to search for blooms and special texture, but it also has the peaceful quality that appeals to me: leaves dropping onto an already leaf-littered floor, birds in the undergrowth, and a sense of remove that is needed within the rush of New York.
Of course we will not have a berm separating us from 6 lanes of traffic, nor the elevation it would provide.
But we can have the leafy paths.
Below: I was rather surprised to see that this was one of the few ferns holding up this far into September. So I crossed a couple off the list, and added her. Dryopteris goldiana.
Compare this patch with May's picture. The May apples are dormant as can be. I missed their fruit.
Below: Doll's eyes. The pretty, and prettily scented actaea that Donna and Dinah helped me identify in May's post, has turned creepy. It has a walk-on role in The Minority Report, where, in a greenhouse, a mad plantswoman (me in the future?) breeds plants that are, to say the least, unfriendly. The plants were the best part of the movie.
The berries contain toxins and are the most poisonous part of the plant. Eating the berries can lead to cardiac arrest and death.
So don't eat them.
Chelone, with its feet in water, was about 4' tall and sprawly.
This used to be cimicifuga but now it's also Actaea, this time americana.
Asters. I don't know my asters. There was lots of golden rod, tall and beautiful, but waving too much for a good picture.
Seeds of eupatorium, I think.
And an early fall leaf, from the huge tupelo tree standing above the woodland floor.
I'm still thinking. Thinking thinking thinking.