As a man of science, horticulturist Nick Snakenberg tries not to ascribe human attributes to plants.
“That would strike most of us here as a little nutty,” says the curator of orchids and tropical collections for the Denver Botanic Gardens.
But then something mystifying happened with the Strongylodon, a green jade vine at the entrance to the gardens’ tropical conservatory.
It had not flowered once in the decade since it was planted, and its twisting wooden stems and waxy green leaves were stealing sunlight and spreading over exit signs. Even to Snakenberg — the most patient of plant geeks — the flowerless vine had grown tiresome.
So this spring, he started conspiring to cut it down and replace it with more reliable vines that would welcome visitors with blossoms.
“We were contemplating whether it was worth the space it was taking up,” he says of the leafy web hanging from a ledge above the tank of poisonous frogs. “I think in March we even had that conversation right here in front of it.”
As if grasping that its days were numbered, the vine finally started flowering.
Burgundy shoots 4 feet long budded two weeks ago with deep purple stems bearing otherworldly, claw-like flower clusters so fabulous a bluish green that “jade” doesn’t do justice. It is a color that is awful in artificiality (think dyed St. Patrick’s Day carnations). But in nature, it is so rare and stunning that Snakenberg was inspired to write his first mass e-mail to the staff in his nine years of running the conservatory.
His message daisy-chained to garden clubbers throughout Colorado who are buzzing about blossoms so long-awaited and tropical they seem almost pornographic.
“Most people have never seen flowers in that color. It reminds us of the different life forms and diversity that Earth Day is all about,” says the gardens’ horticulture director, Sarada Krishnan.
While crowds are flocking this week to see daffodils pop and apple trees bloom, staffers are most captivated by the unpredictable arrival of the green jade blossoms.
Horticulturists are taking careful samples for their research herbarium. And Snakenberg is encouraging even more flowers next spring by pollinating the vines with tiny paint brushes — a job typically carried out by bats in the Philippine rain forest. The plant’s natural habitat is threatened by timber harvesting.
Snakenberg doesn’t know exactly what caused his vine finally to bloom after a decade. The scientist in him says it might have been extra micronutrients he used in fertilizer. Maybe it was pruning. Or turning off the conservatory’s spotlights at 8 p.m. rather than midnight to save energy.
The reason remains a mystery.
Though he doubts the vine actually heard him plan to kill it, he admits that he does wonder.
“Can plants listen? Probably not. But they have certain sensitivities and preservation instincts that amaze me.
“If polar bears and pandas are ambassadors for the animal world, these flowers are ambassadors for the plant world,” he says. “For us plant nerds, they are a wow moment that drives home the message that the Earth is infinitely bizarre, and its living things — all of them — need to be protected.”
Susan Greene writes Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Reach her at 303-954-1989 or greene@denverpost.com.
