Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts

Friday, September 28, 2012

Invasive Wavyleaf Basketgrass Oplismenus hirtellus ssp. undulatifolius (Ard.) U. Scholz - Bibliography

Image from: Sierra Club, Maryland Chapter: Wavy Leaf Basket Grass: An In-Depth Look

  
Atlas of Living Australia. (2012). Oplismenus undulatifolius (Ard.) Roem. & Schult. [WWW Document]. Australian node of the Global Biodiversity Information Facility (GBIF). URL http://bie.ala.org.au/species/Oplismenus+undulatifolius

Beauchamp, V.B. (2012). Niche requirements and competitive effects of a new forest invader, Oplismenus hirtellus spp. undulatifolius (wavyleaf basket grass). In: 997th ESA Annual Meeting (August 5 -- 10, 2012) program annoucement and abstracts. Towson, Maryland, USA.

Chen, S. & Hillips, S.M. (2012). Flora of China. Harvard University Herbaria, 22, 593–598.

Dakskobler, I. & Vreš, B. (2009). Novosti v flori severnega dela submediteranskega območja Slovenije (Novelities in the flora of) the northern part of the Submediterranean region of Slovenija. Hladnikia, 24, 13–34.

Dalziel, J.M. & Hutchinson, J. (1948). The useful plants of west tropical Africa: being an appendix to the Flora of west tropical Africa. Published under the authority of the Secretary of State for the Colonies by the Crown Agents for the Colonies.

Davey, J.C. & Clayton, W.D. (1978). Some multiple discriminant function studies on Oplismenus (Gramineae). Kew Bull., 33, 147 – 157.

Global Biodiversity Information Facility (GBIF). (2012). GBIF Data Portal [WWW Document]. GBIF Secretariat. URL http://data.gbif.org/species/4033648/

Hitchcock, A.S. (1920). Revisions of North American grasses: Isachne, Oplismenus, Echinochloa, and Chaetochloa. Govt. Print. Off.

Hitchcock, A.S. (1935). Manual of Grasses of the United States. Miscellane. United States Government Printing Office, Washington, D.C., USA.

ISSG. (2012). Global Invasive Species Database (GISD) [WWW Document]. Invasive Species Specialist Group of the IUCN Species. URL http://www.issg.org/database

Kyde, K.L. & Marose, B.H. (2008). Wavyleaf basketgrass in Maryland: an early detection rapid response program in progress [WWW Document]. Invasive Resources,. URL http://www.dnr.state.md.us/wildlife/Plants_Wildlife/WLBG/pdfs/wlbg_poster011108.pdf

Long, E.A. (1874). The home florist: a treatise on the cultivation, management and adaptability of flowering and ornamental plants, designed for the use of amateur florists. Long Brothers, Buffalo, NY USA.

PCA-APWG. (2010). Wavyleaf Basketgrass Oplismenus hirtellus ssp. undulatifolius (Ard.) U. Scholz [WWW Document]. PCA-APWG. URL http://www.nps.gov/plants/alien/pubs/midatlantic/ophiu.htm

Palisot de Beauvois, A.M.F.J. (1812). Essai d’une Nouvelle Agrostographie. Paris, FR.

Peterson, P.M., Terrell, E.E., Uebel, E.C., Davis, C.A., Scholz, H. & Soreng, R.J. (1999). Oplismenus hirtellus subspecies undulatifolius, a new record for North America. Castanea, 64, 201–202.

Plants for Use. (2008). Oplismenus hirtellus (L.) Palib. POACEAE Common names: Basket Grass (Hortus) [WWW Document]. URL http://plantsforuse.com/index.php?page=1&id=2604

Scholz, H. & Byfeld, A.J. (2000). Three Grasses New to Turkey. Turk J Bot, 24, 263–267.

Scholz, U. (1981). Monographie der Gattung Oplismenus Gramineae. Phanerogamarum monographiae, 13, 213.

Snow, N. & Lau, A. (2008). Notes on grasses (Poaceae) in Hawai‘i: 2. Records of the Hawaii Biological Survey, Bishop Museum Occasional Papers, 107, 46–60.

The Plant List. (2010). Version 1 [WWW Document]. URL http://www.theplantlist.org/

Thompson, J.P. (2009). Invasive species: wavyleaf basketgrass - Oplismenus hirtellus subsp. undulatifolius [WWW Document]. Invasive Notes Weblog. URL http://ipetrus.blogspot.com/2009/04/invasive-species-wavyleaf-basketgrass.html

USDA ARS. (2012). Germplasm Resources Information Network - (GRIN) [WWW Document]. National Genetic Resources Program. URL http://www.ars-grin.gov/cgi-bin/npgs/html/taxon.pl?27364

USDA-APHIS PPQ CPHST. (2009). Differences of Oplismenus hirtellus ssp. undulatifolius to native and horticultural taxa. Fort Collins, Colorado USA.

USDA-APHIS PPQ PERAL. (2012). Weed Risk Assessment for Oplismenus hirtellus (L.) P. Beauv. subsp. undulatifolius (Ard.) U. Scholz (Poaceae) – Wavyleaf basketgrass - ver 2, June 14, 2012. Raleigh, NC 27606 USA.

USDA-ARS. (2012). Germplasm Resources Information Network (GRIN). [WWW Document]. URL http://www.ars-grin.gov/cgi-bin/npgs/html/taxon.pl?316751

Valdés, B., Scholz, H., Raab-Straube, E. von & Parolly, G. (2009). Poaceae (pro parte majore) [WWW Document]. Euro+Med Plantbase - the information resource for Euro-Mediterranean plant diversity. URL http://ww2.bgbm.org/EuroPlusMed/PTaxonDetailOccurrence.asp?NameId=140116&PTRefFk=7100000

Wavyleaf Basketgrass Task Force -. (2009). Wavyleaf Basketgrass Task Force Meeting Minutes.

Weakley, A.S. (2011). Flora of the Southern and Mid-Atlantic States. Flora of the Southern and Mid-Atlantic States. North Carolina Botanical Garden & University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

Westbrooks, R. & Imlay, M. (2009). Wavyleaf Basketgrass – A New Invader of Deciduous Forests in Maryland and Virginia.

Wipff, J.K. (2009). Flora of North America - Oplismenus P. Beauv.- 25.06. Flora of North America.

eFloras.org. (2012). Flora of Pakistan [WWW Document]. eFloras.org. URL http://www.efloras.org/object_page.aspx?object_id=60963&flora_id=5
  

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Musings on Invasive Species - Chapter 2: "April Showers the Promise of Horticulture"


            The chores of the April-garden are put off by the constancy of spring showers.  A gardener’s skill is put to the test by the vagaries of the season which determine the needs of the plants.   The spring bulbs such as tulips are peaking while fallen tree limbs of winter are yet to be gathered.  The sudden explosion of the yellow-flowered forsythia reminds the gardener that soon the fire-storm of weeds will over take his best laid plans.  All of a plantsman’s plans are waylaid by the irresistible enticements of new plant varieties, colors and forms found at local garden centers and nurseries.  Every gardener lives to add just one more plant to his or her landscape palette.  In gardening there is no end to addition, multiplication, division and weeding.   There is not enough time to manage the change a-foot in April’s garden and no days more to be added to the list of work.  The frantic sense of impeding incompletion is off-set by the thrill of this year’s show.  Gardening is a race against time.
            In this race to get the eternal work of gardening done are plant species which time and experience has shown to hinder and mar our attempts at artistic perfection that we call beauty which inform our senses.  Invasive plants and pests spring up and compete with unwary, inexperienced gardeners.   The weeds win when order disappears and randomness reigns supreme; the gardener wins when patterns in design and relationships of species are maintained.   Some landscape literati know that garlic mustard spritely blooming and the soon-to-become-ruthless early growth of multiflora rose, bespeaks of endless war against the invaders for years to come.  Perhaps the frosts of early April have kept the insects at bay, but in the warmth of spring’s sun, protected by a blanket of soil, the larva of the Japanese beetle stirs.  The race is endless and ultimately unwinnable, and the costs in time and resources irreplaceable, but the gardener as manager of his surroundings is an optimist.  Every gardener comes to spring trying to overcome the pervasive lack of time and the evasive nature of garden pests, the shock-troops of nature’s onslaught, an invasion of harmful, damaging species from outside the garden.
             Thrown out of Paradise, equipped with a spade, rake and hoe the gardener prepares to return by recreating Eden using the knowledge of horticulture.  The guide to success, the instruction book on how to establish relationships that produce a harvest of plenty, horticulture is the collection of processes and information gathered through the millennia to serve the present.  Mostly science now, but still flavored with folk wisdom handed-down through the generations, horticulture tells the gardener and the landscape manager which species will live and which will be overwhelmed; how deep to plant the peony and when to plant the corn; how to save the oak and where to site the cactus.  The Western traditions that enabled the science of horticulture not only lead to new varieties of hostas and new shades of color in daylilies but to hotter cayenne peppers and larger Halloween pumpkins.  It is horticulture that informs us as to where our cacao trees will grow so that we may gratify our sweet-tooth cravings and when to pick the grapes for our dinner-wine celebration.
            The reach of horticulture is expressed by the modern extent and present range of definitions.  Horticulture is the practice of gardening which in itself is a vague notion of work associated with the cultivation of plants.  But horticulture is also the science of caring for gardens and small scale agriculture as well as the industry of plant cultivation.  So horticulture involves plant propagation, production, breeding and genetic engineering, botanical biochemistry and physiology.  Horticulture provides information that enhances yields, quality, nutritional as well as ornamental value, and works to improve resistance to insects, diseases, and environmental stresses.  Traditional horticulture is the compendium of knowledge about the way  our interrelationships and interdependencies work with our efforts to shape the land to suit our human needs.
            The present study of horticulture demonstrates the depth and spread of its historic roots. Botany, soil science and identification, indoor and outdoor plant identification, Integrated Pest Management (IPM), business management, propagation and production, floral and landscape design, landscape construction, container gardening, aquatic gardening, arboriculture, herbs and medicinal plants, turf management, fruits and vegetables, perennials, greenhouse production, safety and hazards, as well as basic chemistry, biology, and mathematics constitute the core of the working knowledge and skills needed by today’s horticulturist.  The professional horticulturist as beneficiary of two thousand years of study will know, among other things, the principles and techniques of reproducing plant varieties by seed, leaf and root cuttings, bulbs, corms, tubers and rhizomes; layering, divisions, grafting,  budding, and tissue culture as well as the fundamentals of seed structure and vegetative makeup of plants.  In addition he or she will master structures and functions of plants, the associated effects of environmental factors on plant growth, and will have a working knowledge of the fruit, nut, vegetable, bedding and pot plant, cut flower, nursery and landscape industries.  Students of horticulture will learn about horticultural crop families, growing systems and culture needs, soil preparation and fertilization, selecting and propagating varieties, preventing pests, regulating growth, harvesting, value-added processing and marketing.  And least but not less, the professional horticulturist will be able to address causes of and solutions to air and water pollution, soil erosion, pest challenges and problems, loss of biodiversity, deforestation, energy depletion, potential changes in climate and invasive species.
            While much is written from a Western viewpoint about the horticultural arts, the same needs and knowledge of plants are seen and studied in Eastern landscape traditions.  Bonsai, the Japanese landscape art form, miniaturizes and freezes the ideals of perfection inherent in Zen.  Nature is reflected in a frozen tableau by using the knowledge of how to form a shape by careful trimming of equally carefully chosen plants.  Which plant to choose; when to prune the roots; what soil to use; when to cut the foliage are all integral to creating an image of nature in miniature.  The need to control, to freeze time, is buried deeply with in the tradition and the art of bonsai and are an unspoken outcome at the heart of western gardening traditions, too.  
            Broadly speaking then, horticulture is an art – an art of knowing when to plant, where to plant, how to plant, and most importantly, what to plant.  This is the basic knowledge of good and evil, beneficial or harmful, useful or superfluous, belonging or not-belonging (invasive).  These positive, necessary fundamentals of procurring human needs from the land are supplemented by the quiet inverse of knowing what species belongs and which does not.  Horticulture speaks to us about the intersection of beauty and danger.  The plant family to which the potato belongs famously offers to mankind food, spice and drugs.  Potatoes, peppers, and nicotine represent the wide-ranging contributions of this family of flowers.  These nightshades, however, as they are called in common parlance are known by their scientific or botanical name as the Solanaceae.  The Latin verb solari, to sooth, may explain the name to which cigarette smokers can attest.  The list of food sources within the family is astounding.  Sweet and chili peppers, tamarillo, tomatillo, eggplant, and tomato are a few of the beneficial plants found within in the nightshade family.
            The desire to exert some kind of control over one’s destiny combined with the basic needs of life - food, fuel, fiber – translate into a primary pursuit of knowledge.  The importance of knowing which plant kills and which cures is an obvious outcome for most of the world even if some of us think we are no longer impacted by the power of plants.  Mathematics and physics combined to describe a solution for removing a boulder from a field.  The pry bar and the fulcrum moved both the earth and the rock.  The art of alchemy drove a pursuit of learning about the physical world that would by the 18th century be ‘transduced’ - an alchemical term of art - into the study of inorganic chemistry.  Illness was addressed by the growth in medical knowledge that demanded a specific and detailed understanding of plants. 
            Enticing flowers like the aptly named Belladonna, the beautiful lady, beckoned like Greek Sirens leading the unwary to the shores of eternity.  The beauty of the Sirens song waylaid mythological travelers as do the dangerous trumpet-shaped-flower beauties of the hallucinogenic members of the nightshade family.  To fall asleep under the spell of the devil’s herb, Atropa belladonna, is to never awake in this world.   One of the world’s most toxic plants; a few berries can kill a child.  Also in the family are the witch’s weeds, the Daturas, whose common names offer up a history of less than positive experience: Hell's Bells, Devil's Weed, and Devil's Trumpet.  Under the influence of these queenly shadows of the night,  ingestion results in delirium and the inability to separate fact from fiction, reality from fantasy, and the possibility of death.   With both the Greek Sirens and the garden shades of night, those who survive their assignation with destiny tell tales of a very unpleasant journies/.  It is this combination of beauty and danger that horticultural knowledge explains to those who venture forth from the grounding of the known into the chaos of other.
            Knowing for sure what to cook and what to eat, what to touch and what to watch, belongs to the domain of horticulture.  The look-a-like invader is a primal problem for the gardener or the explorer.  Claytonia perfoliata commonly known as miner's lettuce alluding to its use by miner’s in  California’s mid-19th century  Gold Rush used to prevent scurvy, is also known as winter purslane, spring beauty, or Indian lettuce.  A salad mistakenly made from Atropa belladonna instead of the helpful Claytonia will have serious and potentially deadly consequences.  Identification confusion does not have to lead to death, but can lead to intense discomfort affecting the quality of life as anyone who is allergic to poison ivy can relate.  Which vine is the nasty personal space and garden invader: the native Toxicodendron radicans (poison ivy) or the non-native Hedera helix (English ivy)?  
            Distinguishing differences, assigning a name, establishing relationships, and adding a value statement is the work of horticulture.  The very word horticulture is derived from two Latin words, hortus – the garden, and cultare – to till.  The knowledge gleaned from the Tree in Paradise is understood to be the knowledge of tending or tilling a garden.  The ill-gained knowledge of Eden was also the key to survival.  Knowing for sure that the fig leaf would not cause physical discomfort was an important piece of information supplied by horticulture through, perhaps, at first, experience.  Learning how to grow cotton to supplant the fig leaf enhanced human life and was made possible by the information provided by the knowledge that we would eventual collect into the science of horticulture. 
            We can imagine the origins of horticulture in the mists of time after Paradise was lost.  The knowledge of good and bad, the original sin not-with-standing, comprises the core of the critical principles of horticulture.  Knowing the name and function of a species is a primary activity of horticulture.  Less mythologically and yet somewhere along mankind’s journey to the present,  traveling bands of human decided to stay  in one place long enough for members to notice plants growing where hunting experience would not have suggested, perhaps, for example, near the human clearing.  The medicinal or pharmaceutical use of plants was from the earliest times intertwined with horticulture.  Greek plant collectors and root diggers called rhizatomoi were botanical specialists, an early version of today’s pharmacists.  The study of human connections to the land and with the species that provided sustenance was by necessity the first study in survival.  Even hunter/gatherers need to understand the fragile interactions that exist between living things and the physical world upon which they live.  Horticulture addresses therefore the matrix of systems that consitute the landscape up on which mankind depends.  An awareness of how the forest edge relates to the woodland clearing is a key to finding a meal.  Knowing the location of an edible plant, knowing for sure which part of the plant might be eaten and when it might be toxic comprise a direct necessary skill set.  Rhubarb, for example, a plant whose leaves are toxic has stalks that are used to make pies and provide tart flavors in cooking.  Our sweet confection would bring death without the practical information of horticulture.   Horticulture tells mankind where and when and what to harvest.  George Sarton (1884-1956), the "father" of the history of science, reinforced the long, important reach of basic plant skills when he wrote in Ancient Science Through The Golden Age Of Greece the "…farmer was aware of many mysteries surrounding and threatening him; he was every day at the mercy of the elements and of luck."[1]
            The ancient Greek philosophers led their students through complex intellectual concepts in gardens, and were very aware of the relationships between man and the plants therein.  In the Academy and the Lyceum it is not too far-fetched to presume that horticulture was a topic of interest and investigation. Aristotle’s students discussed and studied definitions, forms, and growth of garden plants as well as their practical use.  Tyrtamos “Theophrastos” of Eresos, born on Greek island of Lesbos located in the northeastern Aegean Sea, was a student of Aristotle and became the next director of the famous Lyceum in Athens.  If there were saints of horticulture, botany and ecology, Theophrastos through his studies and works, De causis plantarum/The Causes of Plants and De historia plantarum/The History of Plants, would be among the first rank.       
            In the grove, surrounded, as it were, by a controlled landscape or garden, Socrates lectured to his students including Plato.  For teaching uncomfortable ideas that challenged them current notions of the world, the teacher was tried and condemned to death.  The plant species of choice that we know today as Conium maculatum, poison hemlock, was the preferred method of execution.  Perhaps the drive of Theophrastos, who was a student of Aristotle who in turn was a student of Plato, to collect, understand and disseminate a knowledge of plants was in some small part due to the stories of the great philosopher’s death.  How to end life, and how to save life, were in the hands of people who knew about the locations, relationships and functions of individual plants in the world.
            By the time of  Julius Caesar some 2100 years ago, people who needed to know (in Latin scientes – a knowing one) about plants were dividing their research and acquisition into two distinct but related disciplines.  Natural philosophy would lead to the big sciences of meteorology, physics and chemistry and agriculture to name a few.  Unlike agriculture however which tends to focus on large crop production systems, the wider discipline of horticulture is wonderfully described by Marcus Terentius Varro who lives in the early years of the 1st century BCE.  Prolific writer, soldier, historian,  natural philosopher and practical Roman farmer following in the geographic relating, descriptive footsteps of the historian Xenophon of Greece and Cato the Elder of Rome, Varro explored horticulture in De Re Rustica/On Agriculture offering readers information about the garden and landscape practices of grape cultivation, grafting, composting through animal waste, soil suitability, inoculations, fodder, and harvest storage.   
            The second area of study was the pursuit of medical and pharmaceutical remedies and cures.  How to grow, where to find, and how to recognize are direct needs of the botanical druggist.  While the first pursuit of knowledge kept families fed and therefore healthy, the second found cures for those things that ailed them.  Pedanios Dioscorides,  a military surgeon in the legions of Nero wrote De Materia Medica/Of Medical Matters in which he describes some 600 plant species including references to the roots, stems, leaves and some flowers.  After the brilliance of Greece and the early bloom of Roman civilization, the written record of scientific horticulture goes dormant with the death of the great physician Galen much  like  oriental poppies after their spectacular spring flowering.
            Horticulture after the 1st century focused on the herbal and medicinal uses of plants and would directly lead to the science of taxonomy.  It would be over 1500 years before the research would combine the scientific method with exploration and see the explosion of horticultural discoveries.  Investigating how to extract from a local ecosystem the best human use was the mission of horticulture.  Driven mostly by folk knowledge and lore, curious minds sought after plants that could cure or correct ailments.   A gatherer would rise to her task (or his) trying to identify good plants from bad.  A good plant was one that not only addressed a health or medical issue but whose harm was less than the good it offered.  A bad plant had no redeeming features and might additionally cause damage or death.  The duality of the Serpent’s Gift was carried to the fields in the search of remedy.  The effect of the plant was the goal of the day, however, cause would have to wait until the 17th century.  These earlier practitioners of the gardener’s art worked in a world of dualities because they saw and sought the effects and not causes.  Attempts to explain the effects bordered on the fantastic. The spots on the leave of the lungwort, Pulmonaria, resembled the markings of a diseased lung and accordingly were assigned the curative properties relating to lungs and the pulmonary system in the hope of providing medicinal relief   
            the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus of Ephesus’ famous quote that all is flux, nothing is stationary (Πάντα ῥεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει) describes with ancient wisdom the gardener’s challenge.  From seed to seedling to sapling to shade-tree, each step is seamless and constant.  How to identify each stage of a plants growth, in essence how to recognize a potential cause lay at the heart for the great leap from lore gained from experience to knowledge accessed through science.  Knowing for sure what plant you are harvesting is the bases of the discipline of horticulture.   How many people died before the herbal qualities of goutweed, Ammi visnaga L. Lam, and the death causing properties of hemlock, Conium maculatum L., were firmly understood.  Goutweed, for eample, is a spice with pharmaceutical properties and is related to poison hemlock that was used to execute Socrates.  The two plants themselves are related to a whole family of species, Apiaceae or Umbelliferae, which provide food, drugs or death when misused or identified.  The familiar edible members, however, include carrots, parsley, parsnips, cilantro, and dill.  The divide between herbal and spice is pleasantly fuzzy as are the definitions of many things when one looks too closely.  The litany of spices blends to medicinal cures of yore: anise, caraway, chervil, coriander, and cumin in a tangy pharmaceutical change ringing. 
            And, while in hindsight seemingly self-evident, the relationship of the parts and stages of a plants life is by no means clear to those not steeped in the wisdom and experience that gives knowledge to the gardener.  In the first part of the 16th century Andrea Cesalpino, physician to the Medici and to Pope Clemens III,  would inspire future students of botany with his philosophical approach to a classification system that would find patterns in the structures of the plants. While he rather famously, and incorrectly it turns out, ascribed the origin of flowers from the leaves of the plants, he on the other hand astutely and correctly described the need and appearance of a system of classification that would ultimately lead to the study of taxonomy.  Cesalpino wrote that  " [u]nless plants are reduced to orders, and distributed into their classes like the squadrons of an army, everything is bound to fluctuate.[2] 
            In this explosion of learning in the spring of scientific inquiry, Cealpino was not alone.  He was joined by a long list of early botanical intellectual explorers.  Valerius Cordus, a German physician who in 1540 described a technique for synthesizing ether, improved the descriptive accuracy of plants including species from exotic locations.  Charles De L'Ecluse, a Flemish medical doctor who never actually practiced medicine, created one of the first botanical gardens in Leyden, introduced the potato to Germany, and fired up the bulb culture that would in part financially empower the Netherlands to imperial world dominance.  The great herbalist and one of the founding fathers of botany, Leonhardt Fuchs, was a doctor of medicine and personal physician to the Margrave of Brandenburg.  At the invitation of the Duke of Württemberg in 1533, he helped reform the University of Tübingen directing it towards a humanistic course of study.  He created the first medicinal garden in 1535.  Such was the stature of his learning and his knowledge of the function of plants, horticulture that he served as chancellor of the university seven times.   Known also by his Latinized name, Fuchsius Leonhardus, later memorialized by a favorite ornamental flower, the fuschia, he created one of the first pictorially accurate botanical book as well as encouraging the use of newly discovered pumpkin and corn in Europe.    
            Taking advantage of the latest in the ‘hi tech’ of the time, the printing press, John Gerard, Gervase Markham and Thomas Hyll were among the first to commend in print plans of gardens of food and pleasure for considered study.  Leonard Mascall wrote of planting techniques and grafting indicating “…the divers proper new plots for the Garden.  Also sundry expert directions to know the time and season when to sow and replant all manner of seed.”  Mascall also makes a point to identify “…remedies to destroy snails, canker-wormes, moths, garden flees, earth-wormes, moles, and other vermin.”[3]  Mascall prescribes solutions for garden problems, which are familiar to us today, telling his readers that “[t]o destroy pismiers or ants about a tree…Ye shall take of the saw-dust of Oke-wood oney, and straw that al about the tree root, and the next raine that doth come, all the Pismiers or Ants shall die there. For Earewigges, shooes stopt with hay, and hanged on the tree one night, they come all in.”[4]
            This explosion of botanical interest was in every sense the study of horticulture.  This intellectual interest and inquiry laid the foundation for our present dynamic landscape template. Mankind, for so long asymmetrically arrayed against the infinite majesty and potential destructive forces of untamed nature was creating a tool to overcome the odds of survival.  The study of species, the art of classification, the research that enable subjective valuations of the components of nature for the enhancement of mankind were driving forces of at the beginning of the modern age.  Nature, the wild, unexplored and unnamed Other, was being corralled and domesticated by humanity that yet felt over-matched and at the mercy of forces beyond its control.  The rhythm of naming parts and parcels of the landscape became the dance of control.
            The recognition of change would drive the conversation of scientific enquiry from the 16th century right through the 19th century.  Horticulture examined the continuous nature of change in the landscape describing analytically in detail each step of growth and decay.  It could do so by first assigning a name to which an effect or function could be attached.  A system of naming or classification was a gift of the Tree of Knowledge; the primal urge to know good from evil, benefit from harm in a dangerous and uncertain universe. 
            It is hard today to imagine the enormity of the world as once felt by mankind.  I can remember reading books of exploration and discovery with maps that included regions labeled exotically “terra incognita”.  Scientific missions that were lost in far away jungles and barren landscapes filled with the terror of the unknown.  The fragility of control was reinforced and obvious, for a garden untended quickly reverted to a “natural” state.  The duty and mission of man was to tame this unruly dynamic system that festered beyond the garden fence.  To adequately control the massive forces of nature, horticulture provides the first line of defense.  A landscape with a name is no longer unknown.  A landscape can be identified by the plant species it supports.  Everything, therefore, is dependent upon the name.
            In the 17th century the art of naming was not yet a science, and horticulture was not yet a discipline.  The scientific method was becoming the new tool of knowledge and learning.  The gardener first asked a question.  Then he or she studied and researched what was known about the question.   A hypothesis was constructed that was tested through experimentation.  The information in the form of data was analyzed and a conclusion drawn that was then communicated to a wider audience to become part of the body of scientific knowledge. 
            In an age when many clergymen were also scientists, the Reverend Stephen Hales was an English example of a physiologist, chemist, and vicar.  In his Statical Essays, volume one,  Vegetable Staticks (1727), are accounts of experiments in plant physiology that include the loss of water in plants by evaporation, the rate of growth of shoots and leaves, and variations in root force at different times of the day.  The role of natural philosopher was rising to an apex below which the modern disciplines of horticulture, agriculture, biology, botany, taxonomy, chemistry, physics, medicine and mathematics were differentiating into areas of specialized knowledge.  At the height of its reach the complications of horticulture were forcing a simultaneous break up of the discipline into unique categories of research and understanding.  The impetus of this specialization was the search for a cause of an effect rather than for just the effect itself.
            In the 1600s, the study and application of horticulture begins to be presented in terms of hard science such as botany and biology as well as related fields of chemistry and physics, versus applied science such as garden and orchard cultivation and design (horticulture in a modern sense) as well as the field of agriculture.  Though not yet well formed the idea of pure research and applied science was coming into being. Jethro Tull, not the 20th century recording artist, but rather the inventor of the horse-hoe and seed-drill showed the practical side of a farmer even as he showed signs in his work of the nascent state of scientific knowledge.  He asked what plants ate and answered earth, which then supported the need to for cultivation, the continuous disturbance of the land, on order to feed the crops.  Leaves, he claimed, were the lungs of plants, an observation that was close for the wrong reasons.   
            Technology and luminaries came together in the late 17th century to research plants, to draw forth every possible benefit that nature might give.  Rudolf Jakob Camerer, also known by the Latinized surname Camerarius, John Ray, and Nehemiah Grew researched plant reproduction while the nurserymen, Thomas Fairchild and John Bertram, experimented with practical hybridization.  With the help of  Antonj Van Leeuwenhoek’s newly introduced technological tool, the microscope, the great Robert Hooke, famous today for his law of elasticity (Hooke's law) and his book, Micrographia, investigated the cellular composition of plants first applying the word "cell" to describe the basic unit of life.  The great strides of science enabled greater knowledge about plants that could provide a better life for humanity.  The efforts can be summed up as how to get more from the garden and the land by finding out how plants work and by introducing new plants to the landscape.
            Richard Bradley, the first Professor of Botany at Cambridge University, writes in the Preface to his 1718 book, New Improvements of Planting and Gardening both Philosophical and Practical, that “..there is no Subject of more general Use and Advantage than the Cultivation of Land, and the Improvement of the Vegetable World.”  This idea of improvement is key function of horticulture, the cultivation (cultum) of the garden (horti), which seeks to address any physiological or biological cause that might hinder the positive effect or use of a landscape and the access to its resources.  Bradley goes on to say that well meaning writers in the past had given advice “… by heaping together a Load of Observations from Varro and Pliny, without carefully considering wherein their Experiments differ from the Genius of our Soils and Climates.”   Scientific method was to be harnessed to revolutionize control of the land. 
            Bradley, who brought ideas about horticulture back to England after a trip to the Netherlands, lays out a novel idea in an attempt “… to prove that the Sap of Plants and Trees circulate much after the same manner as the Fluids do in animal Bodies; which may be one Argument to shew (sic) the beautiful Simplicity of Nature in all her Works.”  His next section deals with the Generations of Plants and the  “…Manner how their Seeds are impregnated… [which ]… will be a great Use to all Planters, by directing them in the proper Choice of their Seeds.”   He follows this with chapter on the Differences of Soils in which he will demonstrate which soils are “…natural to each Tree, and how all Kinds of Soils may be mended, alter’d, or improv’d, by proper Mixtures with each other…”.   A Method of Dressing the Woods for timber wherein he proposes “…a new, easy, and practical Way of raising Woods with very little Expense…”  After a chapter on profitability, Bradley then takes up the Flower-garden and “…prescribe[s] the properest (sic) Methods for rendering that Part ornamental.”  He continues, “I have there given the best Method of Propagating and Introducing all the Ornaments of the Garden, as Ever-greens, Flowering-shrubs, Perennial and Annual Flowers, and Bulbous-roots Plants, with their differing Heights, Beauties and Times of Flowering.”  He brings the work to a close with the tools and information necessary to propagate fruit trees and “...tender exotic Plants.”  Remarkably prescient in light of modern landscapes and invasive species, Bradley writes in his chapter three:   “I suppose that no one is ignorant that the greatest Part of these Flowering-trees and Shrubs, which are at this time so well known to our Gardeners, are Exotics, (Italics are Bradley’s); and it is well worth our Enquiry what Climes they were first brought from…”.       
             The various functions of the parts of the plant and the functions of the plant within the landscape were described in detail by chief gardener at the Chelsea Physic Garden, Phillip Miller, in his ambitious re-issue in 1735 of The Gardener's Dictionary containing the Methods of Cultivating and Improving the Kitchen, Fruit and Flower Gardens.  He compiled a concise reference in which he his cautious to use proper nomenclature for identification of a species function and care with in the landscape.  The entry for lavender provides an example of the level of detail as Miller writes: “Lavendula, lavender.  It is one of the verticillate Plants, whose Flowers consist of one leaf, which is divided into two lips; the upper-lip standing upright, is roundish, and for the most part bifid; but the Under-lid is cut into three Segments, which are almost equal:  These Flowers are dispos’d in Whorles, and are collected into a slender Spike upon the Tops of the Stalks.”  (Vol. 2)
            Miller next identifies several species or types of lavender and then describes them in terms at times familiar to today’s gardeners and ecologists noting that lavender latifolia “…tho’ very common for  most Parts in Europe, yet in England is rarely to be found…” while lavender latifolia, sterilis “…is a Degeneracy from angustifolia…”.  Miller’s use of the word degeneracy is a critical piece of the work of the gardener in the managed landscape, for it is in part the landscaper’s mission to enable high culture through cultivation, and in doing so avoid the degeneracy inherent in the wilderness just beyond the garden gate.
            Bradley, Miller and other natural philosophers, proto-scientists and nurserymen were beginning to create the great calculus of the garden, horticulture, by mapping cause to effect.  They were identifying points of infinitesimal change at which a measurement could be taken or a decision made to create a desired outcome.  They used the latest inventions and hi-tech tools like the microscope to aid their quest for information, for models and  for theories of the relationships in the landscapes and therefore their world.  The cross-inter-disciplinary nature of study in the 1600s, the fluid nature of research and investigation allowed for creativity in exploration if ideas.   A partial list of the works of John Abercrombie, show the wide ranging professional interests that were covered by the science of horticulture:  Every Man His Own Gardener (1767), The Universal Gardener and Botanist (1770), The Garden Mushroom, Its Nature and Cultivation (1779), The British Fruit Garden and Art of Pruning (1779), The Complete Forcing Gardener, etc. (1781), The Propagation and Botanical Arrangement of Plants and Trees, Useful and Ornamental (1785), The Complete Kitchen Gardener and Hot-Bed Forcer (1789), The Hot-House Gardener (1789), and The Gardener's Pocket Journal and Annual Register (1791) [5]
            This was the age of Newton and Leibnitz, and the calculus in mathematics; and the rapid expansion of the scientific method for understanding the whole world, not just the space right outside the imagination.  It was also the age of the last of trials for heresy and the Thirty Years War in which men such as Kepler had to be secretive as to some of his notions about the cosmos for fear of indictment by the political establishment.  Hiding in the darkness just outside the garden fence still scurried gremlins and uncontrollable spirits who could without warning intrude upon the serenity of the garden bring death and destruction.   The poetic images of Spencer’s Fairie Queen rang true and strongly influenced the world-view of European man who knew for sure that there were living not too far away cursed beings “…in wasteful Wildernesse...by which no living Wight passe, but through great Distresse.” (The Faerie Queene, Book 1 edited by Martha Hale Shackford)   The degeneration of the landscape beyond the sanctuary of the garden psychologically bolstered imaginary fears that became incorporeal evils.
            A differentiation is made between what is manageable and measurable versus what is infinite and un-usable.  The differentiation of the stem from the root provides insight to the function of the plant itself.  A differentiation of use to mankind produces a function that assigns a value of good or not-good.  What is the purpose of the leaf, the horticulturist asks, how does the flower function, why are there roots, what is the inter-relationship between the seed in its pod to the flower and to the seedling in the soil; these questions now taken as common knowledge are brought together in the great work of circumscribing the processes of gardening and the garden.   The role of a plant in the garden and the relationship of its parts to the greater community of the landscape were detailed in no small part by connecting a plant’s change in physiology through time to its growth to the motion of the sun and seasons.  For the gardener it is paramount to know when to plant which plant as well as when to prune and when to divide or and when to harvest.  It was equally important to understand which plants can grow together in full sun and which plants tolerate shade.  A plant with no discernable use to mankind at any point in its life is by human definition without value. And this human definition is all that we humans have to work with. 
            The inverse of this process horticultural differentiation is the integration of what is known through experimentation and is bounded by the limit of of a garden’s perimeter, edge or, if you will, the garden wall.  To use the calculus of horticulture, the gardener needs to differentiate types of plants, scientifically and commonly referred to as species made possible by the great system of taxonomy created by Linnaeus.    To manage and to measure what is possible in the garden is done by horticultural integration of a landscape.
            Carolus Linnaeus, known also in recognition of his contributions to learning by his ennoblement as Carl von Linné, or more simply just Linnaeus, created the naming system for living things including plants in and out of the garden.  The Linnaean system uses a nested hierarchy of categories, starting with three Kingdoms divided into Classes that are then divided into Orders, in turn sub-divided into Genera (singular: genus). At the end of the nesting process are found the division into Species (singular: species), itself divisible into ranks of plant species now called "varieties".  The importance of this system is so fundamental (and mostly now taken for granted if even thought about by society) as to have become a kind of modern accepted intuitive knowledge presumed to have always existed.  Who today can imagine world in which there is no common underpinning to the classification of living things.  The differentiation of species was based upon shared physical characteristics. The resultant naming is allows for an attachment of values and the assumption of function.  Now a species could be named and assign a function which in turn could be tagged with a value of either beneficial or harmful.
            Systema Naturae, first printed in the Netherlands in 1735, contained by its 10th printing in 1758 classified over 4,000 species of animals and 7,500 species of plants.  Based upon a binomial naming convention first proposed by Gaspard Bauhin and Johann Bauhin in the 16th century the great work set out the principles necessary for an orderly naming system.  Genera plantarum: eorumque characteres naturales secundum numerum, figuram, situm, et proportionem omnium fructificationis partium (1737) delineated plant genera.   In 1753, Linnaeus published Species Plantarum, exhibentes plantas rite cognitas, ad genera relatas, cum differentiis specificis, nominibus trivialibus, synonymis selectis, locis natalibus, secundum systema sexuale digestas began to out in detail a nested hierarchy for plants that culminated in Systema Plantarum published in 1779.
            The introduction to Genera plantarum outlines the needs for the function of orderly naming right at the beginning: “All that truly can be known by us depends on a clear method by which we distinguish the similar from the dissimilar.  The more natural the distinctions this method comprises, the more clearly the idea of things emerge to us.  The more objects our understanding engages with, the more difficult it becomes to work out a method—and the more necessary. Nowhere has the Great Creator placed so many objects before the human senses as in the vegetable kingdom, which covers this whole globe that we inhabit.  Thus, if a pure method is of use anywhere, it is here,  if we shall hope to gain a clear idea of Vegetables. “[6]
            From Linnaeus comes the injunction to join the similar with the similar, and to separate the dissimilar from the dissimilar.  The great Western intellectual effort from the time of Aristotle until the middle of the 18th century rose like a wave towards the shores of a system of plant species classification.  The great fundamental theorem of horticulture is the ability to differentiate species; to assess a particular related set of features through time at one particular instance and claim a categorical relationship.  The motivational dream is a function consisting of a set of rules that provide a definition that identifies a particular species. The community of life around us, the biology that comprises a particular ecological system, may be expressed in terms of relational categories that are called species; we can reduce the complex to a single individual and identify its membership within a specific, biological set. 
            And now the horticulturist and the gardener could systematically express the benefit and desirability of a particular species.  The naming convention as a consequence of Western civilization’s binary Aristotelian logic, allowed for the categorization by orderly systematic classification of species into a set of harmful undesirable and pervasive “wild” species with no visible value to the garden.  This category of other was not hard to sell.  The primary importance of the plant world was first and foremost in the minds of everyone, unlike today, when some of us are several generations removed from the vagaries of the soil and weather, mankind through the centuries fully felt the fury and the uncertainty of nature pounding on the garden wall every minute of every day.  This is a world fast disappearing in which most people lived off the land affected directly by their knowledge of the relationships of plants, insects, diseases and animals around their home.  Any failure to correctly identify was life threatening.   
            Horticulture’s function is to identify the particulars of the relationships and interconnections of living things to the physical world.  Armed with a name events and experiences can be tracked through time.  The seedling of a garden invader is detected at an early stage and the ultimate harvest increased by a rapid response called weeding.  To plant necessarily implies a positive labor while to weed involves a necessary evil.  The plant is good; the weed is bad, and an eternal struggle is firmly established in practice and in memory. 
            Through constant attention and continuous selection, the gardener chooses which species will be permitted to flourish inside the wall.  Eden is recreated one plant at a time and through endless work and the knowledge of horticulture additional species are introduced each with its won identifiable function within the garden complex.   Unsolicited additions or arrivals of any species from outside are prevented.  The ultimate goal is control of the world immediately around us by careful, learned selection and the tool used is the accumulated knowledge of horticulture.  The natural world is in a perceived state of degeneracy, of vagueness and of uncertainty that may be tapped or exploited to enhance the productivity of the garden through the applied science of horticulture.  The day-dreams of a time gone by are colored by the works of great men who found new uses and new skills to manage the land.   There is for many a “Romantic” view of the past in which nature is a harmless-other to which one only needs to apply intellect and determination to compel the secrets of a good profitable harvest.  Through careful cultivation a landscape generates culture.  Through cultivation a group of people can begin to feed themselves predictably, and have the time to create works of art and memories of glory.  With time’s gift of the science of horticulture comes education and knowledge which can touch the stars. 
            The very same landscape if not tended continuously will revert to a wild undifferentiated state.  The wilderness for settled humans who have moved from hunting and gathering to a more sedentary life style is undifferentiated for there is not enough direct, tangible yields for the larger number of individual; there is only haphazard chance encounters with useable resources. From inside a managed landscape the outside is a blur of unregulated potential uses, but without clarity or definition.  Horticulture teaches mankind how to select and transfer productive species from the wild into a controlled state of cultivation and in doing so to raise the level of culture through the increased harvest which then can support greater numbers of people.     
            Horticulture also addresses the problem of a landscape once disturbed that does not revert to an idyllic pastoral scene but rather almost immediately becomes an open wound festering with competing species each trying to take advantage of the absence of the complicated webs of biological and physical interdependencies.  Natural areas that are chronically disturbed through human actions do not revert to a pristine state but over time evolve into a new state of being.
            I cannot imagine nature as an untamable adversary.  The cosmic legion of horticulturists who named, essayed and found solutions to gardening challenges is brightly lit by the work of the inquisitive garden investigators of the 17th century.  I cannot imagine a world in which I do not know the function of a flower or why too much nitrogen invites the aphid to attack.  I cannot envision a world where every living thing is unknown and potentially an adversary.      






[1] Edition: 28 - 1993 by George Sarton
[2] Nisi in ordines redigantur, & velut in castrorum acies distribuantur in suas classes, omnia fluctuari necesse est
[3] Censura literaria : containing titles, abstracts, and opinions of old English books : with original disquisitions, articles of biography, and other literary antiquities (1805)
[4] A Book of the Arte of and Manner howe to plant and graffe all sortes of trees, howe to set stones, and sowe Pepines to make wylde trees to graffe on (1572)
[5] Dr. Tim Rhodus. 2002. Department of Horticulture and Crop Science.   Ohio State Universityhttp://www.hcs.ohio-state.edu/hort/history/076.html     ://www.hcs.ohio-state.edu/hort/history/076.html of Horticulture and Crop Science
[6] Staffan Mueller-Wille  and  Karen Reeds. 2007. A translation of Carl Linnaeus’s introduction to Genera plantarum (1737).  Stud. Hist. Phil. Biol. & Biomed. Sci. 38 (2007) 563–572
 “Omnia, quae a nobis vere dignosci, possunt dependent a claroa Methodo, qua distinguimus fimilia a dissimilibus. Haec Methodus, quo magis naturalis comprehendit destinctiones, eo clarior rerum nobisnascitur idaea.  Quo circa plura versatur noster conceptus objecta, eo difficuliu selaboratur methodus, at magtis necessaria evadit.  Nullibi tot objecta humanis sensibus objecit Summus Conditor, ac in Regio Vegetabili, quod totu, istum, quem inhabitamus, globum tegit, replete.  Ergo si nullibi pura methodus a re est; sane hic; si Vegetabilium claram idaeam obtinere sperabimus…”

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Musings on Invasive Species - Chapter 1: "The March garden is a simple thing"

CHAPTER ONE

      The March garden is a simple thing.  One moment it is winter; the next it is not.  All at once striding forth from the endless blur of grays and browns of winter’s night come the dazzling bright colors of triumphal spring.  Even those of us with no calling to garden stoop and feel the earth, are pulled from their comfortable fireplace centered favorite chair or plasma screen focused seats to venture out into the glorious daylight and fresh air of a new season.  We do not have to know the names of the plants in bloom to know that for a moment we are in touch with Paradise – perhaps, even, we might touch heaven here on earth.
      If we stop and take a closer look along the edges of the landscape and in the cracks of the garden walk, we shall see early adapters and brave ubiquitous plants popping up with abandonment and in complete disregard for planning.  We may make a spontaneous choice deciding that some of the species belong and some do not.  And this we do with not too much aforethought.  Those plants that do not belong are quickly plucked, removed and thrown away.  There is a similar reaction for us to the newly arrived swarms of insects that invade our personal space, moving perhaps indoors through open windows with broken screens.  These flying and crawling species are pests in our personal space, violators of our little part of heaven.  We swat and spray reminding ourselves perhaps of plagues and ill health that follows these home invaders.  There is no time to spend on thinking about these reflexive actions for Spring is “sprung” in a sudden complete dance of life in motion
      Spring marches in without warning, unannounced and without a pause.  We look outside one day and there, where the quiet browns of winter’s reign once held court, now the garden blooms anew.  The cycles of the seasons are heralded by trumpet choirs of daffodils, and a chorus robed in green.  All of us are gardeners for a moment when spring arrives.  The suddenness of change beckons everyone to step outdoors.  In the novelty of the moment, life awakens and the world is renewed.  The garden has not yet been invaded by competing forces of nature; too new to have been damaged by time, the landscape is in a state of becoming.  The first intimation of a new beginning in the garden is without blemish, defect or irregularity.  In the first moment of spring, there is no imperfection, no invasion, and no thought of the coming conflict.  New harm to be caused by invasive species is not yet revealed and we have no thoughts of the destructive possibilities in growth and nature.  The garden is filled with dreams bounded only by the yet unreleased energy of the possible.  Every seedling is the actualization of a shade tree; every flower, the realization of a dream.
      Each spring, over and over again through the ages of human memory, the stories of creation are retold.  We are grounded in the universe by our nuanced sense of place which is found in the garden.  Our common grounding is reinforced by stories and myths of creation that make up our culture and civilization.   And these forces of the past, in turn, guide our core understandings of our purpose in the cosmos and our place in the world.  Like genetic information past on from generation to generation, the stories of creation and our beginnings guide our dreams and our designs.  The stories of creation influence our decisions about our homes, our gardens, and our environment.  The messages of these first stories reflect the very essence of our spring seasons, for where a moment ago there was empty nothingness, there now is a fullness of everything..
      The precise moment of renewal is impossible to establish; there is no absolute point of time when winter ends and spring begins.  We note the day and try to record the hour.  We divide the hour into minutes and search for the very second; this act of dividing can go on and on with no end.   The closer we try to see the exact moment of change, the more we see nothing at all.  Our attempt at precision delivers only an unsettling vagueness.  The closer we look the more unclear the moment becomes.   To lessen our discomfort, our creation stories set out to explain this mysterious beginning that produced this world in which we live.  The broadest and most basic ideas flow from our stories of the beginning.  The creation myths are a collection of ideas that functions as a discrete and definable enabling concept.  These stories serve as William Sims Bainbridge’s cultural genes.  Basic cultural concepts flow from these genes, becoming dynamic imperatives of civilization.  Ideas about the very essence of our world, of where we came, to where we may be going, are rooted in the garden of creation myths and stories.
      As there are unnumbered gardens so there are countless stories of creation.  As each garden is an aggregation of form and content, so each story constrains the infinite into manageable definitions which lead to understanding.  As a garden might have an untended wild areas serving as backdrops to more formal textures, so the legends offer contrasts and comparisons that help us define our place in the cosmos.  Our gardens and our landscapes are a reflection of the order of the world that is established in our culture’s creation story.  The values we assign to order and form are supported by the stories of the first spring.  We plant in rows and build walls in straight lines because Western tradition seeks a return to the order of creation’s garden – an order that brings a sense of certainty or surety in the midst of chaos.
      Our personal Edens, our gardens, landscapes and our dreams are haunted and informed by our culture and its stories.  The first garden and the first spring are proclaimed “[i]n the beginning [when] God created the heaven and the earth”.  The stories of the beginning inflect our ideas of landscape and individual ideas about the world.  Western culture is tied to linear the Abrahamic religions, the  Judeo-Christian-Islamic faith traditions in which received expectations of society dictate the recreation of the Garden of Eden and in doing so reflect  the story of creation.   We move step by step in a straight and ordered line of decisions from a beginning to an end.   We remember the safety and serenity of that first garden and that time when “… God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good”.  In recalling the peacefulness and tranquility of that time and place, we desire to return to the predictability and serenity found within the garden walls.  We are deeply drawn to a divine place which is the ordered landscape of a garden.  
      The creation story tells of the separation of sky from earth, night from day,  land from water.  In doing so the process of delimiting and categorization begins.  Even the very notion of a beginning as a concrete, tangible start is a form of assigning ideas and things to sets and boxes.  Time has a start and moves inexorably towards a finish.  Time moves from a beginning to a goal.  The gardening as is in living involves planting a seed that has a beginning, grows, matures and dies; each stage, a specific quantifiable step on the way to a perfection found in its finality.  Inside the garden we find the good in life that are the qualities we seek through re-creation to emulate.
      Our gardens are a refuge from nature, the Other, outside our immediate surroundings.  At the first moment of spring there is a sense of perfection of the possibilities inherent in the act becoming.  While inside the garden it is peaceful, predictable, serene, safe and beautiful, the dualistic ideas of western culture lead us inexorably to consider that which is beyond the garden wall, Eden’s opposite, to be a place we do no wish to go, a place filled with terror, the unknown, the chaos of randomness and danger, a place that defines evil and is the very essence of bad outcomes.  It is from the forces of random destructive nature that we will protect our nascent spring garden.  We will make our garden safe from the invasions of unwanted, unknown animals, plants, insects and diseases.  We will struggle to oppose the uncertain and unpredictable forces just outside our garden fence.  The garden is our grounding and our center from which we are protected from and defend against the random chaos of the outside world.   Our Eden is the place within which we maximize our sense of control over a small piece of an uncontrollable universe.
      We establish control by regulating and labeling each of the individual parts of the landscape.  We give names to each object, species, and relationship with in the garden.   The daisy and the rose are friends because we know their names.   We choose the color, texture, size and placement of each species with in the garden.  Through this intimate familiarity of each piece and parcel we form a expectation of the arrangement and the geometry of the space which gives us a sense of comfort and control.  When we plant a line of trees to the garden gate, we can walk in safety from the starting point to the end of the known and the familiar.  We are guided and supported by the structures that we create with in the confines of the garden. The landscape is bounded by the infinite which defies our understanding and while encouraging flights of our imagination. 
      The ideas of Eden arise out of the Western religious traditions.  Non Occidental creation stories are imbued with holistic, cyclical, relativistic, animistic or illusionary concepts.  Some Eastern traditions are even quite similar to the great garden story of the West.  The Pan Ku in China divides the world at the moment of creation in to light and dark, clear and dense, sky and land.  Pan Ku’s egg like the west’s cosmos was without form or definition.  He created the sky and the earth, and ultimately his body gives rise to the landscapes with rivers and hills and features familiar to mankind.   Both creation stories tell of a dynamic intervention to shape nothingness into the rational compressible landscapes.  The Western tradition however separates the divine and spiritual from the natural and ordinary.   In the West perfection of the garden is a process rather than a realization; it is in motion rather than stationary; unique and discrete rather than repeating. 
      The perfect world of Eden is a landscape which is self contained and without error, blemish, problems or degeneracy.  And so the first Garden was without invasive species - no pests plants or insects or diseases; all species were appropriate, indigenous and purposeful.  The first awareness of the divine in the West is of God in the guise of a master gardener.  The Judeo-Christian-Islamic deity is a craftsman, an enabler, an artist, artisan and Creator who moves the earth, plants the seeds and arranges for the care and cultivation of his creation.  In doing so, he delineates a time between the winter of nothingness and the spring of the possible.  He lays down a template for western landscaping traditions and the ultimate model of our garden-life plans.
      The idea of the Garden of Eden as Paradise flows through our feeling and ideas about the landscapes which surround us.  The walls of a garden, of the Garden, serve to protect us, and create an oasis against the onslaught and rapaciousness of nature.  A paradise is literally a forming-around, a making of a perimeter, a word rooted in proto-Indo-European by way of ancient Iran, as is the word  garden which has as one of its root meaning, an enclosure.  Both paradise and garden are etymologically connected to the idea of an enclosure.  The chaos, uncertainty and unpredictable nature of the Other beyond the wall is kept in abeyance.  Our ordinary days are filled with the complications of the random forces we encounter as we venture out into the natural world.  A sense of peace is recovered when we return to the safety of the garden.  Life is defined as a struggle against nature.  We are overwhelmed and over-powered and retreat to our gardens to find safety and solace, protection and comfort.  Our journey through life is a trip from a definite beginning to a promised end and the garden is our refuge from the infinite Other that would distract us and detain us.  In the image of God’s garden, we recreate our Edens as sanctuaries of the divine.  The garden is, therefore, a reflection of divinity in nature.
      The Persian paradise garden was an enclosed orchard, a cultivated oasis of greenery in a harsh desert land.  The word paradise comes to us from the reconstructed Old Persian word for a walled enclosure.  Behind this wall with its requisite source of running water could be found all that was needed for life.  The dusty sand-winds of the desert would be muffled, the endless search to quell the parched realities of the desert - quenched, and the sweet fruits of cultivation - harvested to fill the reach of hunger.  Paradise was a garden which freed us from the eternal struggle to survive.  Paradise was the place that freed mankind from the uncertainty of tomorrow and let him truly live.   
      Hesiod, the 8th century BCE Hellenic farmer who may have been a contemporary of Homer and was either bored while tending his sheep or fell asleep counting them, described paradise as a time and place when mortals: “…lived like gods and no sorrow of heart they felt.  Nothing for toil or pitiful age they cared, but in strength of hand and foot still unimpaired they feasted gaily, undarkened by sufferings.  They died as if falling asleep; and all good things were theirs, for the fruitful earth unstintingly bore unforced her plenty, and they, amid their store enjoyed their landed ease which nothing stirred, loved by the gods and rich in many of herd.”[1]  
      The monotheistic tradition of Eden blends with and is reinforced by stories of the sky-gods pf the polytheistic Indo-European transmitted through mythological telling the ancient Greeks and Romans.  As an example, the special nature and connection with divinity is emphasized in the legend of the Nymphs of the Evening who tended the garden of Hera, wife of Zeus.  The Hesperides gave their name to  crystalline glycosides hesperidins, found in most citrus fruits such as orange peels.  They also gave European civilization their storied golden apples which were sought after by both men and serpents - apples that came in two varieties; one of joy and the other of discord, one of good and one of evil.  They show up as the fruits of the labor of Hercules, who was charged with obtaining by any means possible the Hesperidean produce, those legendary harvests of desire the yields of which of a garden still resonate through our Western cultural memories. 
      The idea of a garden of perfect with no necessity of labor and with endless harvest is used satirically by Athenaeus, a 2nd century common era writer quoting a 5th century BCE Greek comic poet, Telecleides. The extreme description makes the point of the impossibility of a garden without labor.  But the ideal remains with us today as the motivating dream of an  idealistic landscape:  “First, there was peace over all, like water over hands. The earth produced no terror and no disease; on the other hand, things needful came of their own accord. Every torrent flowed with wine, barley-cakes strove with wheat-loaves for men's lips, beseeching that they be swallowed if men loved the whitest. Fishes would come to the house and bake themselves, then serve themselves on the tables. A river of broth, whirling hot slices of meat, would flow by the couches; conduits full of piquant sauces for the meat were close at hand for the asking, so that there was plenty for moistening a mouthful and swallowing it tender. On dishes there would be honey-cakes all spinkled with spices, and roast thrushes served up with milk-cakes were flying into the gullet. The flat-cakes jostled each other at the jaws and set up a racket, the slaves would shoot dice with slices of paunch and tid-bits. Men were fat in those days and every bit mighty giants.”[2]  
      Seeking safety, mankind is hard-wired in some sense to want a clearing between the cave and the outside world.  The cleared area is a protective area, an interlude between the predictable and the chaotic.   We guard the enclosure around our homes looking out the doorway to assess movement without and to take action therein if called for.  Hoping to find our own priapean garden sentinel who will warn and threaten wayfarers and thieves away, we  lay out our landscapes and fence in our gardens so that if there is any movement we can shoot it.  With a wall to protect us,   the careful choices of species we permit within provide a comfort from the randomness beyond.  Each species is known, each contour of the land is planned.  Just as the God of the West created his world one step at a time,  so today we too reflectively plan and garden one step at a time.  
      In the shaping, design and planting of a garden sanctuary arises a sense of control over nature and natural processes.  The  gardener is added who took over the Creator’s task of naming and classifying all the division and species of the garden.  This first human gardener, Adam, was the master of all within.  He took on the role of classifier, namer and category divider, the value giver, and by extension the decider of good and not-good.  Adam standing in for all western mankind bequeaths the template of Eden enabling the establishment of basic catholic, orthodox cultural frames of reference.  Beauty and order within, disorder and not-beauty is accordingly found without.  From its use as a major setting in Milton’s Paradise Lost, to powerful symbolism in Shakespeare’s Hamlet the Garden of Eden as Paradise and refuge is restated and reinforced.  The special garden is reproduced in paintings throughout Europe by some of the most renowned masters such as Bosch, Bruegel, Chagall and Dali.  The idea of a garden in deeply held and ingrained within the Western psyche.
      The Garden of Eden is the prototype for the garden as art. It sets the aesthetic standards and principles; in its significance, the ordinary is divided from what is beautiful and appealing, and what is not.  There is at first no tension or strife in the Garden of Eden; the animals live together and there is no need for work or war.  The ideal of a place of rest, of inactivity, of a place where there is no discord, no pain, no labor, and no want is planted strongly within the human soul and depicted in western art.  This place of perfection was created to enable man’s relationship with his personal God.  As man is to God so the animals and plants are to man.  As Eden is to God, so a garden is to man. 
      The Fall from Grace, a separation of the divine the from natural that is reinforced by art has dramatic implications. The division of time into discrete components of a linear journey and the demarcation of nature from the divine are key concepts found in the Western story of creation and affect our ideas of gardens and landscapes as well as our perception of our place and role within the greater scheme of the universe. A garden has a beginning formed out of the nothingness of nature and through time and effort is transformed into a divine reflection of paradise, a sanctuary from evil of chaos.  At the core of the Western religious tradition recalled by art is the sense that the world was created for mankind’s use.          
      Unlike animanistic belief traditions or even those ancient teachings of Eastern faiths with holistic underpinnings, nature in the West is assigned a supporting role.  Nature and the natural world outside the garden are not a part of Eden, but a wilderness to be brought under control.  And that control is assigned to western Man when his God spoke and said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.”[3]   The drive to fill the bogs and wetlands, level the mountains and clear the woods is ingrained in Western culture.   With the recent advent of secularism, the concepts of man’s obligation to the divine as a check on unlimited personal exploitation are folded into the idea of the land shaped for and by mankind.  The drive to control is reinforced by the memories and actions of the asymmetrical struggles of nomadic humans in harsh desert reaches or river-tied early farming communities recorded in myths and legend.  These remembrances of the struggle against the ebb and flow of the natural energy and dynamics of annual river floods would return in the many stories of the garden as paradise.   
      We daydream of walking barefoot in a garden where there is no need to worry about bites and tears and pain.  We want to be surrounded by animals that are not a threat and pose no danger.  All the flowers will be fragrant and none will cause us harm.  We long to reach for any fruit and find it sweet and refreshing, and sip the cool clean running water when our fancy strikes.   The cultivated Persian paradise combines with idyllic Hellenic notions of a garden to give us a landscape template such as seen in the paintings of Nicolas Poussin:  The Spring; Adam and Eve in Paradise, 1660-1664   It is worth juxtaposing the Poussin painting of Spring with his painting of Winter; The Deluge.  The stark bleakness of winter divides us from the invitation of spring.  The desolate bleakness of Winter stands in opposition to the full possibilities of Spring.
      There is a snake in paradise, however, an invader, a species destined to turn the perfect Eden into a flower-bed of strife.  The very notion of division is an invasion of paradise.   At the beginning there was no partition, no motion, and no movement in Eden.   After the moment of creation nothing happens, and mankind exists unaware of the static blissful state in which he lives without needs, demands or wants.  In Eden, moreover, were two special trees, native perhaps by definition as wel as a snake which was alien and exotic - an invasive species, likely to cause harm.   The Bible informs us that “[i]n the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”[4]  
      The serpent’s gift is the knowledge of good and evil that includes the tool of valuation.  The division of good and evil drives our incessant human categorizations of the world.  Once we imbue each action, object or place with a value, we become part of a world of continuously diverging possibilities.  If this place is good then it follows that there is one that is not; if this plant is good, then this one is not.  The serpent tempted Adam and Eve with information wrapped in desire surrounded by beauty – an apple.  The landlord on the other hand was not amused, and after quick consideration, decided that the two were in violation of the lease.  As the two wayward tenants were ushered to the gate, the landlord had an apparent bad hair moment and left them with their former charge of dominion over the flora and fauna of the earth.  All our current landscape challenges and questions of sustainability are imbedded with in this received Biblical imperative.
      The analogy of God as gardener creating perfection and the snake as invasive species causing disruption to the world is appropriate, concise and prophetic.  For metaphysical reasons the serpent changed from peaceful indigenous denizen of the tranquil garden into a foreign exotic alien with a mission incompatible with the ecosystem services of Eden.  The serpent’s actions upset the balance of Eden’s ecological system.  From both Mankind’s and God’s point of view the harm caused to the system was dynamic, irreversable and unsustainable.  The garden as it was could not go on; instead of etrnal permanence,  instantaneous change was the permanent recognized feature of gardening, landscapes, life  and the biological systems in this world.  Mankind had gained the knowledge of life which was to know death and to wage eternal, fruitless war upon it. 
      Mankind had also acquired the knowledge of good and evil which is to say mankind now knew how to categorize, name, label and assign values to everything.  This valuation of the world and the categorization that is integral to gardening, landscaping and decision making within our human biological systems.  That is to say, we decide each moment of every day whether some part of the physical work or species is good, has value and belongs in our garden or is bad, has no value, and must be removed.  In the process we sometimes get the boundaries of the physical world confused with the world of values for the dandelion in the lawn has no intrinsic good or bad value until we assign it one.  We describe the world of our garden and even the whole of the natural world by using material principles such as mass and energy and physical-chemical properties to which we layer our human judgments attaching metaphysical value tags. 
      The eviction from the Garden becomes symbolic of a degeneracy that takes place when cultivation does not keep the evil invaders at bay.   The exit from Paradise initiates the journey through life and the remembrance of things that might have been.  The frozen state of, the stationary perfection of Eden is lost in the motion of change.  And the desire to find this perfect moment, this unchanging simplicity compels the completion og our dreams and  our plans.  And the infamous invasive species gets the blame for bringing the blissful state of creation to an end.
      When the garden and landscape is disturbed by the action of a non native alien, the role of garden steward is brought to the forefront, as we try to recreate the ease of existence that once was ours.  We of the Occident, created with free-will, chose to know and in doing so began the process of division requiring a form of thinking.  The thinking itself is very upsetting for it tells us things we does not want to know.   For now we know that inside the garden is good; outside the landscape is bad.  The wild, chaotic, diverse, untamed, scary Other which lies beyond the garden’s wall is, moreover, a source of evil that must be tamed through culture and cultivation.
      The wilderness harbors historic phantoms of unimaginable evil.  The Bible uses the word wilderness some 300 times in the sense of a wasteland or desert bereft of life.  The biblical wilderness was uninhabited, vast and human survival was a problematic challenge at best.  While Eden, the Hebrew word for delight, was fruitful, the wilderness was desolate and unproductive.  Paradise and nature became physical and spiritual opposites.  The Judeo-Christian-Islamic teaching blended with the folk lore of antiquity to produce the stories of supernatural habitation outside of the garden wall.  Beyond the light of the cared-for garden in the shadows of the darkening forest slithered beastly monsters and horrific visions of cruelty and death.  The woods were full of inhuman terror for the unwary.   In the dark and foreboding gloom of Europe lived the wights and trolls, ogres and elves, magical denizens perhaps enthralled by Satan himself.  Wild beasts hunted among deadly flowers on unsuspecting or unwary travelers.  Myth and rumor surrounded the woman who lived beyond the village wall, who knew too much about cures and poisons, herbs and potions, to wit: a witch, one whom everyone knew knows.  The Other, the wilderness, nature itself was a vast storehouse of potential and uncontrollable trouble.  Nature was to be tamed by constant vigil.  Nature would strike down the unprepared and bring all to ruin if left unchecked.    
      The invasion of the garden is a second beginning, a new creation.  Many myths speak of the power of the snake in the processes of creation.  The Rainbow Snake of Australia controls the water and therefore life, its impact unpredictable and in this uncertainty is found the novelty of creation.  In India the drought-serpent and the world-serpent both play roles in the creation of the world.   The ancient Greeks symbolism of eternal cycles in a snake eating its own tail is recast as the story of Ophion, the Hellenic serpent-king and first of the rulers of the cosmos, impregnating a daughter of a Titan who lays a golden egg from which the earth is hatched, .provides a countermelody to the Biblical tale, for eventually Ophion is overthrown by Chronos, the god of time who casts out the serpent from Olympus       
      Gardeners today are guided by several mythologically driven premises.  These premises are deeply rooted templates used in the design and evaluation of our landscapes.  Valuation forms our reaction to the relationships of form, texture, color and variety.  Deciding what belongs in the garden is a by-product of the serpent’s gift.  The snake itself is summarily imbued with an aura of evil and otherness.  A visceral fear of the reptile is intertwined with the memory of the invader’s impact on the perfection of the moment of creation.  The snake becomes a native of the world outside the garden gate, its origins as a member of creation forgotten in the memory of the destruction of Paradise.  A set of ideas, places and things is created to contain everything that is not labeled good and therefore accordingly stands outside the garden boundary.
      From the dawn of human memory in the West comes the dualistic world view that works like a two cycle engine propelling the civilization forward one decision at a time.  Right or wrong, good or bad, the choices influence our landscapes, our views and our perceptions.  The value of good results in acceptance or inclusion in the landscape and, therefore,  a culturally inferred usefulness to the garden and to the gardener.  From the concepts of good come the ideas about beauty.  Mankind through the choices and decisions of the gardener is informed by the inclusion in the set he calls serenity, goodness, light, peace, security and certainty.  This is the set of things that belong in a garden and are good.
      The ideas of the perfect garden are branded into our collective consciousness.  Like the prisoners in Plato’s cave, we plan our landscapes based on remembered reflections of Eden that are burned into our collective cultural imaginations by the brilliant heat of the stories of creation.  The reality is that we are bound by our culture.  Our reality is a shadow garden that is built upon values reflected by the light of our mythologies.  Our landscapes are enveloped by values handed down through time and the lenses of our culture and civilizations.   The snake is out, the flower is in and so we make eternal choices of what belongs and what does not based on the patterns that are reflected by our cultural stories.
            These creation stories so powerfully reflected are reinforced through the generations by artists.   Milton set the eternal theme when he writes in book 3 of Paradise Lost that mankind was placed in the “happie Garden” where mankind reaped “…immortal fruits of joy and love.”   From the garden as an earthly mirror of heaven and the divine to the evil impact of Satin’s invasion of Eden, Milton cast the brilliant light of art upon the guiding principles of a paradise lost.  Even the very idea of an inherent goodness to be found in certain species is recalled when Milton reveals that there once  was a species known as the ”… Immortal Amarant, a Flour which once [i]n Paradise…”  This idea of inclusion is key to gardening and to landscape use decisions.  Milton provides an example of art building on the original theme reinforcing the mythis-based cultural paradigm. 
            In book 4 of Paradise Lost Milton compares the garden edge, the boundary between the luxuriant goodness of the Eden as a “…circling row [o]f goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue…” with the other outside uncertain “...steep wilderness, whose hairie sides…[w]ith thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde…”.  Milton repeats the dynamic western cultural imperative that drives society to view the managed landscape as good and therefore inherently beautiful.  The transmission of values infects and inflects our decisions about landscape use and the values we assign to various states of nature.
            There is ambivalence in Western culture’s definition of the garden and its relationship to the landscape.   In some sense we see the natural world as fallen with mankind from a state of perfect.  This descent from Eden and perfection requires humanity to right the wrongs and to work towards Eden in a continuo’s struggle against the wilderness which is in a state of sin with it.  On the other hand, Acadia, the mythological story of a pastoral garden where there was no fear or danger, no possibility of harm describes the golden age of a pastoral woodland setting also llonged for by man.  Virgil in the 4th Eclogue describes the possible return to a perfect nature as a time when “[t]he earth shall not feel the harrow, nor the vine the pruning hook; the sturdy ploughman, too, shall now loose his oxen from the yoke.”[5]  
            The ideals of beauty and serenity are held up in utopian models as goals to be obtained by design and work.  Man shall labor tilling the land and bring it back into a state of unchanging balance.  The ideas of loss, degeneracy and a falling away from perfection in the curse of eternal work in order to live is found when  the first man is told that “[b]ecause thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed [is] the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat [of] it all the days of thy life;  Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field;  In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou [art], and unto dust shalt thou return.” [6]  Yet there is on the other hand the promise of return to the dream of utopia offered by the prophet Isaiah recording the Creator words: “…For, behold, I create new heavens and a new earth: and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind…There shall be no more thence an infant of days, nor an old man that hath not filled his days: for the child shall die an hundred years old; but the sinner being an hundred years old shall be accursed… And they shall build houses, and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, and eat the fruit of them The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: and dust shall be the serpent's meat. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord.”[7]  So what is lost can be regained when the Garden of Eden is transmuted in Utopia, a noble cause towards which the best efforts of mankind must be directed. 
            Utopias and the drive to move towards them arise logically out of the western linear solution to the philosophic exigencies of life.  Given a rational sense of a logical movement towards a goal of perfection understood to be good by definition, the western belief system long held that work was part of the curse imposed when man chose to know the difference between good and evil.  The lot of mankind was to work and die, with the added penalty according to the Romans and Greeks of poenia or ponos - sorrow.   The goal in life was to make a journey away from work and towards a human independence of external things, self-sufficiency, and satisfaction.[8]    In other words mankind’s highest pursuit was to return to a state of perfectly held inactivity remembered with in the Judeo-Christian-Islamic traditions as the Garden of Eden.
            By the time of the Protestant Reformation in Western Europe, work had become divinely inspired.  Work which once had been viewed as the punishment for mankind’s a-cursed action was now the tool by which man would recover Paradise.  Work had become an antidote to inactivity which was viewed a sin, something that happened outside of the garden perhaps in the wilderness.  The stewardship of the garden was emphasized rather than the inactivity implied in Eden.  John Calvin building on Luther’s thinking notes that a “…person who was indifferent and displayed idleness was most certainly one of the damned, but a person who was active, austere, and hard-working gave evidence to himself and to others that he was one of God's chosen ones.”[9]  
            A unsettling vagueness results from the fuzzy cultural bifurcation of nature from the garden.  The creation story divides the landscape of nature from the gardens of God’s design.  The unplanned uncertain nature of the world outside the garden is highlighted by the planned divine design of Eden   and as there is an uncertainty as to nature, so there is a corresponding vagueness as to the concept of work.  The perfection of a garden is lost because of the work of man and degenerates into a wilderness full of death which may be regained by the work of man struggling to recover by wisely using the resources of nature.  The works of man and nature are intertwined like the rose and the wisteria each affecting the other in an eternal dynamic braid.
            The symmetry of the cultural imperatives is powerful.  We go from nothing to the stillness of perfection to the motion of degeneracy in which the seeds of redemption through work are found.  Designed perfection is impacted by invasion and is changed.  The imperfection of the change is corrected by design that leads back to perfection.  And in the center of the story is man, the eternal gardener whose actions both allowed the invasion and returns the system to the ordered design of the original.  The gardener prepares the ground and in doing so enables the inevitable invasion of unwanted species that destroy the order and interrelationships of the garden.  Through his efforts the gardener removes the unwanted invaders and returns the garden to a state of order and balance.
            The archetype of the perfect garden has supplied western culture with the dream of the return to Paradise.  The dream consists of an idyllic landscape where everything has an identifiable place and relationship with everything else.  Order reigns supreme in Paradise.  Order achieved by placing and categorizing things each into its own prescriptive set; to everything a name, to everything a value.  The first set is the set of good or evil; the second is that of known or unknown.  If we do not know its place in the   garden its status defaults to evil.  Therefore something is good if it has purpose, and bad if it has none.  The archetypical Aristotelian sorting assures us that any division is finite and absolute; that something either is in the garden of the divine or of the alien other.  The dualism of the West leaves no room for something grey and vague and uncertain, for uncertainty itself is outside the walls of Paradisium.
            From this acute division flow two ideas.  The first concept is that evil flows in from without; the second that the natural world is without order.  And moreover, the chaos and disorder are arrayed against the work of God and man.  The awesome power of uncontrollable nature was pitted against the works of man.  The chaos, uncertainty, disorder are unpredictable and so  replete with danger and death.  Only in the controlled space where mankind works to select beneficial companion species can he find a respite from the ravages of the natural world.  It is constant work to maintain the order and balance of a garden against the swirling randomness and unknown of nature.  And it is a labor of love, for in bringing order to the landscape mankind finds a respite from the chaos of the cosmos.  Labeling, valuing, and ordering are the first tasks of the gardener.  We find a fact and give it a value, and then set it in our ordered landscape so that it may bring beauty and harvest.
            Since ancient times these archetypical directions have been the constraints that bind our landscapes.  In creating boundaries and restrictions by narrowing the universal set of all that is possible, our gardens become engines that produce food, clothing, shelter and energy as well as beauty, safety and a place of leisure.   The wall of the garden in the Islamic world enclosed an ordered sanctuary that according to the Qu’ran contained “…clustered plantains, and spreading shade, water gushing, and fruit in plenty; Neither out of reach nor yet forbidden”.
            The division of the world into a garden and everything else creates a relationship between the division of a whole and its parts and a model for further divisions.  The delineation of space into predictable and replicable shapes provides order within a predefined landscape.   Geometry brings order to chaos.  The poetry and art of Islam reflect the divine in its garden patterns and a sense of peace arising from repetitions of simple patterns.  The sense of security that comes from geometry and its relationship to numbers provides a connection in the garden to the safety found in an unchanging eternity.   The simplicity of patterns repeated throughout a design reinforces a surety and certainty within the walls.  A garden wall enclosing a square is divided into four squares each a reflection of the greater whole.  From the regularity of the repletion comes a sense of control.  With control come the possibilities however fleeting of a suspension of time and a restraint of change.
            The garden and its patterns bind time through the relationships of forms to one another.  The square bisected diagonally produces triangles; together, square and triangle, create stars.  Golestan Palace also known as the Rose Garden Palace in Iran is an endless variation on a theme of controlled geometry.  Carefully constructed geometric repeated patterns recede into infinity are reflected in a central pool, Eden’s mirror.  The relationship of numbers one to another brings order to the whirling winds of continuous, constant change.   The lines and shapes enclose and arrest random movement.  They guide our eye and control our walk.  The garden path and walk ways direct our vision and constrain our passions moving us in a controlled fashion from place to place within the landscape.  Lines of sight through arches become gateways towards the endless horizon leading to perspectives and controlled illusions.  Control of nature is enforced by the imposition of order.
            So the stories of creation give us three tools to use to understand our place in the world and the purpose of our work.  Naming, valuing and ordering are the spade, rake and hoe of Paradise.  With these three tools we recreate that longed-for moment of perfection before change shatters Eden’s looking-glass reminding us of the struggles of life.  The very idea of time is wrapped in our ideas of motion.  Creation’s garden held time at arms length in a changeless landscape.  Like the first moment of spring Eden stands forever between two events - eternity captured in an instance. 
            The undifferentiated nothingness from whence the garden arose remains just beyond the walls.  The outside alien Other haunts our sleep and complicates our days.  Outside the wall night-mares and the day-mares lurk in our dreams and words.  Thrown out into the terror of the Other, and denied the fruit of the Tree of Life we come face to face with morbid landscapes and mordant realizations of our own mortality.  When nothing changed and time stood captive, mankind had no appointment with death.   The invasive Other outside the wall exists in opposition to the stillness and the certainty of perfection of the garden.  The Other, without, is about change and movement; about not-knowing and not-valuing, and most certainly not about order or control.
            The lighthouse of Eden guides our perceptions of a perfect world frozen forever in blink of an memory.  Build in our deepest, distant dreams, Eden fires up our present imagination manipulating dreams of an eternal, timeless paradise.   To get there we venture through the undefined natural world carrying lanterns at night fearing Will o’wisps.   Our daytimes are spent struggling against the unpredictable forces of nature.  We protect ourselves against the unknown that is incomprehensible and in its nameless state terrorizing.  The untamed Other does not provide dependable sustenance, energy, or shelter.  It can however provide sudden death.
            The wilderness is the antithesis of the grounding that is the garden.  We are awe-struck by the idea of the Other, the not-garden as a philosophic ground state.  When the ground poetically rises up from the wilds of our dreams we are confronted etymologically by Grendel, the monster,  a creature completely of the bottom of all-being, a lone-walker, with no interconnect or relationship to the known world.  Literally invading the mead-hall, Grendel is the Anglo-Saxon incarnation of an invasive species replete with all the negative descriptions.  “Creeping cunning slinking through the night…Dressed in God’s anger…Grendel came slinking over the moors and beneath the mist-filled mounds.”[10]  It is hard to imagine better imagery for invasive species that mar the perfection of Paradise.  Even the description of the invader’s home is fearful when the poet speaks of “…haunted wolf-cliffs and windy head-lands unvisited by mortal feet filled with fearful fens-ways.”[11]  From such places come the attackers of our gardens, our landscapes and our efforts aspiring towards a higher culture.  But the reader must beware of over simplification in Old English poetry and in invasive species issues for there is a strange doppelganger quality to the description of the fight between Beowulf, the gardener and Grendel, the invasive species, as whence comes the invader and whither goes the invasion.[12]
            Amidst the dark sudden unexpected possibilities slinks the invading species, the snake of western creation myth.  The antithesis of all our efforts to bring order to the chaos of the unnamed Other is embodied in the unwelcomed force of nature.  Into our simple recreations of the perfection of Eden come the slippery secretive invasive species, the landscape and garden invader.  In a thrice it can undoes a season’s labor, it destroys the harvests, it undermines well-considered efforts of control and brings disorder to our structured patterns.  When the unwelcomed invaders come into our garden, they undo our work and leave us not only with a lessening of productivity, but subconsciously afraid, disconcerted by a lack of control.  The eye sees a fragment, a flicker of motion in the shade of the hedge-row; the mind fills in the missing pieces. Swirling tales, legends, myths, mistaken identities and resonant cultural symbols combine telling more about the minds of the imaginers than they do about the natural world.  But the telling-stories around the camp fire leave a deep and dark impression, a memory that comes alive to fill in the unknown with impossible evil.  We need look no further than the krakens and dragons which live on the edges of ancient map-makers imaginations.   The very word monster from the Latin words:  monstrare - to show, to point out; monstrum – a significant super natural event;  monere – to remind, to warn to admonish; mens – a mind, understanding or judgment.
            We live in fear of the unknown, of those things that come into Paradise un-summoned and like the Serpent wreak havoc on our life and work.  Venomous snakes and poisonous spiders, ticks and flies that bring pain and death, disease and pestilence, locusts and the plagues that destroy the food supply are ready to attack our gardens and our way of life. 
            The world around us is described from the point of view of the garden as a reflection of Paradise.  The area between our controllable personal space and the fluctuating unpredictable universe is the garden.  The garden is the moment through which we pass each day in our continues travels through nature and constant travails against the unknown.   And it is to our gardens that we return on our way from the battlefields of life.   We see, we know, we understand the world through the lens of the garden, through the choices we make based upon the values we applied.  There is an informational reference upon which we depend.  Our gardens and our landscapes are the eye of the storm we call life.   Only in the last 150 years have they sounded discordant to a few.   





[1] The Oxford Book of Greek Verse in Translation. 1938
[2]  The Deipnosophists of Athenaeus of Naucratis. Athenaeus translated by Charles Burton Gulick. 1929
[3] Genesis 1:26 
[4] Genesis 2:9
[5] Virgil’s Works. 1916. Translated by Henry Rushton Fairclough
[6] Genesis 3:17 - 19
[7] Isaiah 65: 17,20,21,25
[8] Adriano Tilgher. 1930
[9] Historical Context of the Work Ethic. © 1992, 1996.  Roger B. Hill, Ph.D
[10] “Com on wanre niht scriðan sceadugenga702 - 703…ða com of more under misthleoþum, Grendel gongan, godes yrre bær “ 710 - 711
[11] “Hie dygel lond warigeað, wulfhleoþu, windige næssas, frecne fengelad”  1357 - 1359
[12] Pronominal confusion as to whose hand or arm or thumb or claw is grabbing oe clawing whose is a key ambivalence in the story  “…nam þa mid handa higeþihtigne rinc on ræste, ræhte ongean” 746 -747



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Musings on Invasive Species - Chapter 1: "The March garden is a simple thing" by John Peter Thompson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.