Category: oakland cemetery

From “Of Marigolds, Dahlias, and Zinnias” in A History of Zinnias: Flower for the Ages by Eric Grissell:

“From a botanical and evolutionary perspective, there is no doubt whatsoever that zinnias have grown in Mexico for eons. After all, species of this genus are endemic to the region and, having evolved in the area, would have been known to any peoples who viewed and valued the countryside in which they lived. If a plant had any use at all, whether ornamental or material, the inhabitants would have explored the possibilities of making it service their needs. [A] question is whether the Aztec peoples [cultivated] these zinnias in their gardens. The answer is almost certainly ‘yes,’ but… there appears to be little written evidence from the period….

“As with zinnias, multiple species of dahlias and marigolds are also endemic to regions of Mexico and are found growing under similar conditions — hot, dry, and even somewhat hostile. These are all members of the family Asteraceae (once better known as Compositae), and in their original wild or natural forms each group of plants was attractive enough to warrant attention: a common dahlia (Dahlia coccinea) with single red flowers, marigolds (Tagetes of several species) with yellow or orange flowers (some mixed with burgundy petals), and zinnias (of several species) with pink, yellow, or reddish flowers. Thus, the trio — dahlia, marigold, and zinnia — may be taken as a unit with regard to their potential inclusions in Aztec gardens. Certainly they all find their place in today’s gardens, but these plants were viewed in different contexts in their own times….”

From “The Tangled Garden” by Julie Dennison in Landmarks: An Anthology of New Atlantic Canadian Poetry of the Land, edited by Hugh MacDonald and Brent MacLaine:

I used to worship East to West, imbibing light,
air, water; forming seeds too heavy for the wind and,
sturdy, rough, a firm stalk, an unconscionable desire
to burst into the sky. Thick with ochre now, and umber,
thirsty for the water I no longer have the strength
to bear, leaves parch and rustle. Turn a countenance
that used to rival Sol’s from sunlight to the medium
on which I root: see zinnias, still scarlet, blooming.

Orchards bow and apples dream of falling. I am spent
and crackled, dry but full of seed; I hear the clamour of
a tangled germ of voices from within. The earth demands
ascetic posturings: I bend, but wryly — only from the neck —
not to the soil, but to the fallen smell of shrivelling leaves, to
summer’s end, its gathering, hiss and crumble — to necessity.

Hello!

This is the second of three posts with photos of zinnias from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens, taken in late October and early November. The first post is A Collection of Zinnias (1 of 3).

Since these are close-up photographs, it’s not apparent that they grow in a garden space that resembles the “hot, dry, and even somewhat hostile” environment described in the quotation at the top. The stone wall shown in the first three photographs may give the impression of flowers popping up in a sweet, cool spot — but in August and September it’s one of the hottest sections in the gardens (which is why I’d rather photograph them on cloudy days!) The wall also belies the fact that they’re actually growing on a hill, one graded at about forty-five degrees and mostly filled with loose, sandy soil.

The first time I encountered this zinnia patch a few years ago, I didn’t quite understand why they didn’t just slide down the hill along with the grains of sand that would roll onto my feet every time the wind blew. But they’re more resilient than that — and it turns out that they have a fast-growing fibrous root system capable of wide horizontal spreads with additional root-shoots that help stabilize them (and the soil) under these conditions. And since the root system typically goes no deeper into the soil than a twelve inches, they’re able to snag plenty of water from any rainstorm (or gardener’s hose) before it runs into the nearby road. The bees, the butterflies, and The Photographer certainly appreciate that!

Thanks for taking a look!

From “Zinnia” in The English Flower Garden by William Robinson:

“Zinnia: Among the most effective of summer-blooming plants, they flower well until autumn, their blooms not easily injured by inclement weather, but retaining freshness and gay colour when many flowers present but a sorry appearance. In mixed borders, beds among sub-tropical plants, well-grown Zinnias are always attractive, but require a deep loamy soil and a warm open situation….

“Seed should be sown in gentle warmth. Nothing is gained by sowing before the middle or end of March, as, if the young plants have to stand before being planted, they become root-bound and seldom fully recover. If the tissues once harden so much as to bring the young plants to a standstill, there will be little chance of rapid progress when finally set out. It is not advisable to plant them out much before the second week in June, as they are sensitive to atmospheric changes, and are completely ruined by a few degrees of frost.”

From “On the Roundness of Everything” in Duties of the Spirit by Patricia Fargnoli:

At midnight
in the cooled air
there was the moon.

And before that, in the hot day, many were the moons of zinnias.

And the whole time there was the moon of my thoughts in its skull basket.

One was the color vermillion
and others the red and yellow of celebration.

One swallows the universe
like snow swallows a field…

Hello!

This is the first of three posts with photos of zinnias from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens, taken during the last few weeks. I’ve photographed and posted them once before (see, for example, Zinnia Elegance (1 of 4) from last year), and while these aren’t substantially different from the previous photos, they are new — which counts for something, too! After I took the first six photos, the sun slipped behind some clouds — so while those first six look a little like I used a camera flash (I didn’t), the rest are more to my liking because the lighting is more balanced yet the colors still shine through.

With temperatures remaining very high this fall — nights in the 60s and days pushing 80 — there hasn’t been a lot of traditional fall color (you know, red, yellow, and orange filling the trees) so far this year, so taking new photographs of zinnias, asters, mums, and daisies is fulfilling my autumn color needs instead. My favorites of the zinnias are the ones that resemble tiny pineapples, but the others are pretty sexy too — especially those with yellow threads stitched around the centers of the flowers.

Thanks for taking a look!