Wednesday, February 15, 2017

The Case for Remaining Unattainable: The Blue Rose

by Shayla Carey

I hope you all had a wonderful Valentines Day yesterday—full of requited love and romantic times.  Today, though, I’d like to focus on love unattainable, as symbolized by the blue rose.  Like the black rose, this color is not produced in its purest form by nature in roses.  Florists have their methods of turning white petals to bright or deep blue (example, at left), but gardeners and poets must still pine for happy blooms the color of the sky they smile under.  Rudyard Kipling evoked the blue rose when he wrote a short piece that serves as a warning to suitors with high maintenance sweethearts:

Blue Roses by Rudyard Kipling
Roses red and roses white
Plucked I for my love’s delight.
She would none of all my posies
Bade me gather her blue roses.

Half the world I wandered through
Seeking where such flowers grew.
Half the world unto my quest
Answered me with laugh and jest.

Home I came at wintertide
But my silly love had died.
Seeking with her latest breath
Roses from the arms of Death.

It may be beyond the grave
She shall find what she would have.
Mine was but an idle quest—
Roses white and red are best!

According to Landis Valley’s resident garden historian, Dr. Irwin Richman, for centuries, gardeners used hybridization to tease hints of blue out of red petals.  It didn’t matter if the parents were white, red, or in between, but, because of the more complex chemistry in red petals, they were used more often.  Having said all of that, though, their results were mixed.  “Their results were incredibly subjective,” he says.  “A violet to one skeptical gardener is the elusive prized blue to another.”  He points to a listing in the Heller Rose Company of Indiana catalog from 1916:  “The Wonderful Blue Rose – Violet Blue.”  The description is not a flattering one—especially for a cultivar that the growers are trying to sell—but their honesty proves valuable to posterity.  It is a follows:

“This is the famous ‘Blue Rose’ which is a remarkable variety and endorsed by every leading Rose authority here and in Europe, but in our estimation it has not come up to the recommendation of its introducers.  We have seen it bearing flowers that were very blue and very beautiful, and we have seen it again in other soil bearing flowers which were more of a lavender than a blue, so we think it is largely a question of the soil it is grown in as to whether it develops the color claimed for it by its introducers—cornflower blue.  It is of the Rambler type, a beautiful grower, and even if it never bore a flower it is worth a place in the garden because of its rampant growth and beautiful foliage.  The flowers are produced in great clusters, are semi-double, of medium size, and as a rule are a delicate beautiful blue, but we do not guarantee the color.  It is hardy everywhere; a grand grower; a marvelous bloomer and is one of the most popular Roses in our entire collection.”

image of "Vielchenblau" rose from the Composer in the Garden blog
This variety is still around today and is known as “Veilchenblau,” which is German for violet blue.  According to the Missouri Botanical Garden’s website, this nearly-thornless hybrid multiflora rose was bred by J. C. Schmidt in 1909 from ‘Crimson Pirate’ and ‘Souvenir de Brod.’  It does best in full sun, but will tolerate partial shade, and can ramble to 10’-15’.  It is hardy to zone 4 and likes a slightly acid, well-drained, loam soil.  It will bloom in late spring, but won’t re-bloom, and the flowers start off as deep magenta, then can fade to a gray-lilac color.

It is interesting that the description above mentions soil.  Some flowers, such as hydrangeas, will turn blue in acid soil.  According to the article, “The Color Conundrum,” by Dr. Linda Chalker-Scott, in the Spring, 2009 issue of Master Gardener magazine, the red and blue hydrangeas have pigments called anthocyanins in the vacuoles of their petals.  Vacuoles are balloon-like cells filled with organic acids and dissolved salts, minerals, and other chemicals.  Sometimes, these pigments can be manipulated by adjusting the soil acidity, which effects the availability of aluminum to the plant (if there is aluminum in the soil—many soil-less mixes have none).  There are many other factors involved, but many blue flowers produce the anthocyanin delphinidin, and the blue hydrangea—for example—requires this pigment, plus a co-pigment, and aluminum to turn a beautiful shade of blue.  Without all three of these, it will revert to pink.  It’s very complex.

Image of "Applause" courtesy of Wired magazine
Roses, however, do not produce delphinidin naturally, which means that the best that breeders can do is get the faded blue-ish violet colors of cultivars such as “Veilchenblau.”  Scientists at a Japanese company called Suntory have recently genetically engineered a blue rose called “Applause.”  It is touted as the first true blue rose and, thanks to a delphinidin-producing gene inserted from a pansy into “Applause’s” parent, “Cardinal de Richelieu,” it does, indeed produce the blue pigment, though not to the same extent as that of other coveted blue flowers, such as the blue poppy (Mecanopsis grandis, see image below).  "If your soul truly aches for the ultimate blue flower, find the rare and elusive Tibetan blue poppy, Mecanopsis.  Just don't expect to find it at a florist near you," Richman says.

Comparing the two flowers, it is obvious that nature figured out long ago how much delphinidin to pack into vacuoles to produce blue and “Applause” falls a bit short.  The company does cite shortcomings with “Applause” and continues its quest for a more pure blue rose, honing nutrient and aluminum absorption, as well as zeroing in on flavones (a yellow-producing co-pigment) found in other pure blue flowers such as Mecanopsis.  Richman also points out that the real money for Suntory is not in the roses, but in the genes and processes used to engineer the blue rose, as they have patented these from the start to limit competition.
Mecanopsis - the Himalayan Blue Poppy
image by Dr. Irwin Richman

Is this really the blue rose that Kipling sought or is this cheating?  Would his sweetheart have been satisfied with a rose that, according to Wired magazine (“World’s First Blue Rose Soon Available in US," by Danielle Venton, 09/14/11), sold for 10 times as much as other roses when it was introduced or was she just after the unattainable?  Shooting for the moon and landing among the stars is more than just a saying by Norman Vincent Peale; it accurately describes the challenge of trying to obtain the unattainable blue rose and creating something almost as great—the “Vielchenblau” rose, for example.  Suntory used sheer will and billions of yen to engineer a blue rose but, in the process, it may have ruined the romanticism behind the quest for the unattainable by taking away one of its most prominent symbols.  Maybe it’s good that the company holds patents on its rose.  It makes it unattainable to most of us and, in the meantime, gives us back the challenge of accepting, and loving, the roses of red and white we already have.

The blue rose, and its equally elusive black counterpart, will be featured in Richman's book on roses and ray flowers, co-authored with Michael Emery, due out in 2018.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Luck to You in the New Year (with Pork & Sauerkraut)

Blog Post by Shayla Carey

Luck, be it good or bad, is a useful psychological impetus in our daily lives.  Never mind that walking under a ladder is unsafe:  it’s unlucky and so we go around it.  For that reason, we probably save ourselves a lot of hurt from falling objects and/or people.  Traditions abound surrounding luck symbols and, without them, I would have had no reason to try pork and sauerkraut—a savory and salty meal best enjoyed mixed with mashed potatoes (in my humble opinion) and accompanied by cold mulled cider.

A fresh ham on display at the
2016 Harvest Days
Because my Southern Pennsylvania-bred husband wants to ensure our family’s good fortune every year, we feast upon pork and sauerkraut every New Year’s Day.  It’s a Pennsylvania German tradition that dates back centuries1 and, if my husband has anything to do with it, will last for many more years.  The pig as an ancient symbol of luck and was a farm animal in Europe for thousands of years2.  It roots forward, grows fast, and to possess many meant the farmer was prosperous and would eat for a long time to come3 4.  It was also a symbol of fertility and was associated with the Welsh goddess Ceridwen5 and the Gaulish god Moccus (“pig” is “muc” in Irish, “mochyn” in Welsh, and “moch” in modern Gaulish).  To eat it was to subscribe to the folk notion of “like produces like”1 and other cultures eat it on New Years’ Day too.  The South eats ham, fatback, and hog’s jowl; Italy makes their pork into sausage, and people in the Philippines, Cuba, Spain, Portuga, Hungary, and Austria eat a suckling pig roasted whole.6 7

Fresh cabbage enjoying a salt bath as it becomes sauerkraut
I, for one, am more of a fan of the luck applied to cabbage, as I could use a little more green in my pocket.  Who doesn’t?  According to German, Irish, and Pennsylvania German lore, cabbage is a symbol of money and consuming it will help you increase your fortune.  This is mainly because of its green color and tendency to resemble folded money when cooked.  For this reason, it shares its lucky distinction with collard greens, kale and chard in the South, and kale in Denmark.  The Croats and Slovaks enjoy their cabbage surrounding meat.8  The Pennsylvania Germans ferment it for weeks in a salt brine before eating it, keeping the nutrition in and imparting it with its distinctive salty tang.  Irish Americans enjoy cabbage at other times of the year, too, and, coupled with corned beef, makes for a simple, nutritious, and satisfying meal. 9 My family also likes to cook cut up cabbage leaves in the same pot as egg noodles.  They are a great vehicle for butter and parmesan cheese and the dish is a really easy side dish for the winter months, as both noodles and cabbage take the same amount of time to cook.

With pork and cabbage meaning so much to so many cultures, I have to admit that my husband’s family may be on to something.  I certainly do feel lucky to be alive, whole, comfortable, and surrounded by family for the coming year.  In the spirit of wishing you luck in the new year, I leave you with a recipe gleaned from the Landis Valley Cookbook, available at the Landis Valley Museum Store.

Pork and Sauerkraut
3- or 4-pound pork roast
2 baking apples
2 quarts sauerkraut
¼ cup brown sugar (more or less, depending on the tarness of the sauerkraut)
Salt and pepper

Put pork into a large roasting pan, fat side up.  Sear all sides of the meat on top of the stove.  Arrange the sauerkraut on top and around the pork.  Thinly slice the apples and mix with the sauerkraut.  Add brown sugar and stir it well into the sauerkraut.  Add enough water to nearly cover the sauerkraut.  Bake at 450 degrees for 15 minutes.  Reduce the heat to 375 degrees and bake until the meat comes off the bones when stuck with a fork.  Serve with mashed potates.  Julia Lewis, c. 1930

Sources:
1South Central Pennsylvania Legends & Lore, by David Puglia, page 26.
2For a really interesting article about the history of pig farming in Europe, click on the BBC article, “Pig DNA reveals farming history.”
3Landis Valley Cookbook, Landis Valley Associates, page 131.
4”Dead Lucky! What Germans Consider Lucky Charms” by Tatjana Kerschbaumer, Goethe Intitut.
5The Magic Arts in Celtic Britain, by Lewis Spence, page 160.
6New Year’s traditions around the world,” by Nancy Clanton; Atlanta Journal Contitution.
7”Lucky Foods for the New Year,” by Lauren Salkeld, Epicurious.
8“Lucky Foods for the New Year,” by Annette Foglino, Smithsonian.com.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Calm Down this Holiday Season with Chamomile

Guest blog entry by Dr. Irwin Richman

What can be more calming than a nice cup of chamomile tea?  The apple-scented tea is made from two different chamomiles:  either German chamomile (Matricaria chamomilla), or Roman or garden chamomile (Chamaemelum nobile).

Chamomile is easy to grow from seed and it reseeds itself.  Roman, or garden, chamomile often naturalizes in lawns, especially in England as, along with English daisies (Bellis), it can survive close trimming.

They have attractive daisy flowers, hence their membership in the Asteraceae family of ray flowers, along with sunflowers and Black-eyed Susans.  Both of these tea making plants are close relatives of the unlovely plant with a beautiful family name, "Ambrosia." Ambrosia psilostachya is a rag weed scourge of hay fever sufferers.  If you have hay fever, chamomile tea might give you a kick you're not seeking.

In the middle ages, a popular garden feature was a turf seat, and earthen sculpture covered in grass which was close cropped.  As a variant, these turf seats could be covered in herbs which could be closely cropped and chamomile was favored because it emits a nice aroma when sat upon.  Another favored herb for this purpose was creeping thyme (Thymus serpyllum).  While few, if any turf seats were built in America, more are known to have survived, but creeping thyme is still used in old PA German cemeteries where it is planted atop graves so that visitors will have fragrant visits.

Another chamomile is dyer's chamomile (Anthemis tinctoria), a widely naturalized perennial herb with hairy, divided leaves and yellow flowers that is Eurasian in origin.  Not medicinal, like German & Roman chamomile, it was used, as the name suggests, as a yellow to orange dyestuff.  Some folks grow it in their gardens for its blossom.  I remember it as a boy growing in the cow pastures during my Catskill Mountain childhood.

All of this & more are in the new book currently being written by Irwin Richman & Michael Emery, Of Ray Flowers & Roses, due in 2019. You can also read about chamomile and other heirlooms in the book, Heritage Gardens, Heirloom Seeds, also written by Richman & Emery.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Landis Valley’s Gentle Giants

Guest blog entry by Joanne Ranck Dirks
Here at Landis Valley it’s easy to imagine living in the past when riding on a wagon pulled by two slow-stepping draft horses.  The farm on the museum grounds is home to eight of these gentle giants who ferry visitors of all ages around the site.  It’s wonderful to hear delighted school children shout, “Horses!  Horses!” and see seniors smile and exclaim, I haven’t had a wagon ride since I was a child!”

The horses have names as unique as they are.  There’s Duke, Maude, Ben, Hank, and Hunter, and then there’s Bonnie and her daughters, Lizzie and Nettie May.  Both of Bonnie’s girls were born here and Nettie May is named after Nettie May Landis, sister of our museum’s founders.  Four are Percherons, two are Belgians and two are Clydesdales.

These draft horses do most of their work when temperatures are warm, from April to November, but that is mostly to please the folks who ride on the wagons.  The horses themselves prefer to be outside in temperatures that range from 40 to 80 degrees.  Winter wagon rides are a treat during the
Country Christmas Village (December 3 and 4).  At the annual Holiday Bonfire (December 16), wagon rides happen in the dark with bells jingling!  And on the occasion of a deep snowfall, it doesn’t take long to hitch up the horses to the bobsled.

 There’s also work to be done each year in June during the annual Summer Institute classes here at Landis Valley.  The class “Using Horses as Draft Animals” gives participants an opportunity to learn to drive horses and also watch demonstrations of horses cultivating rows in the field.


Four of the horses are owned by volunteers and four are owned by the museum. They are some of our best museum ambassadors, as they occasionally travel to other historic sites to give wagon rides, join parades and compete at the Pennsylvania State Farm Show held in January each year pulling carts and wagons.

In past centuries, teams of draft horses pulled Conestoga freight wagons filled with the bounty of Lancaster County farms to Philadelphia and returned with manufactured goods.  The horses at Landis Valley today don't work that hard yet they help us glimpse into the past and do it handsomely.​

Friday, September 9, 2016

#AskACurator Day and Other Announcements

Just a short post today with a couple of announcements:

#AskACurator Day

Landis Valley curator Bruce Bomberger will be on-hand from 1:30 to 2:15 p.m. on September 14 to answer your questions about the collection, curating, agricultural technology, and the Landis Brothers, founders of Landis Valley Village & Farm Museum.  Send us your questions and we'll post them on Twitter and Facebook.  No personal questions, please, and no requests for appraisals.

video

To see our Twitter feed, you can either follow us on Twitter or you can visit our Media page, where we have a Twitter feed embeded.

In other news...

Wool Frolic

On September 17, Landis Valley will host the Wool Frolic & Yarn Sale event.  In this celebration of the fiber arts, you'll get to pet live animals, see a sheep being shorn, and then get to watch wool get spun, woven and needle-felted.  Staff and volunteers will there to teach you the basics of crochet and knitting, or you can stroll around and purchase fiber arts products from one of our vendors. If you're inspired, visit the yarn sale, where we have sorted yarns of all kinds and pattern books for that next project.  It's a great day of fuzzy fun for the family!

Harvest Days

It's an event about Pennsylvania German harvest traditions, but, after 56 years of existence, it's become a tradition itself.  Families come from all over to taste heritage varieties of apples and see them turned into pies, cider, apple butter, and even molasses.  There's wagon rides, too, as well as a pumpkin patch, food vendors, interactive exhibits, a children's discovery tent, and demonstrations of crafts, trades, and machinery.  We also will welcome the Horseless Carriage Club of America when they bring roughly 30 turn-of-the-century vehicles to the Millstone Grove from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.

Regular admission rates apply to both of these events and, as always, Landis Valley Associates members are free.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Exploring a Hidden Horticultural Treasure


Blog Entry by Shayla Carey

Tucked away in the far corner of the site is a true Landis Valley treasure:  the Brick Garden.  Mainly tended by Heirloom Seed Project volunteer Mickey Blefko, it contains vegetables and herbs in well-weeded raised beds and is surrounded on three sides by flowers.

Despite temperatures close to 90 in the sun, Mickey eagerly gives me a tour on this early July morning, taking me through the paths among the raised beds. “Some of these are here for seed and some are just here for demonstration,” she says.  She points to a row of beets situated half-way into the garden.  “We have 'Deacon Dan' beet seeds for sale, but they are too big for this garden, so we grow other demonstration varieties that we can harvest and eat ourselves.”  The volunteers are careful not to let them go to seed and they are grown in areas remote enough not to adulterate the heirloom population.

'Munchen Bier' radish seed pods
We walk past kale and Swiss chard that were thinned by other volunteers earlier in the day.  She points rows of peppers of various stages of ripeness.  “The Seed Project saves the seed.  But, the great thing about it is that we can keep the fruit after the seeds come out.” I look at her and the same twinkle is in her eyes as is in mine:  we can just taste the stuffed peppers that can be made later in the season.  The same rule goes for tomatoes and Mickey eats them stuffed, too.

The garden is in a constant state of change, as some plants die back and others start again.  A few, such as ‘Munchen Bier’ Radish and ‘Green Star’ bean, are precious and are babied.  The radishes weren’t sold for years and the remaining seed was a few years old, so Mickey was tasked with planting them here and refreshing the genetic supply.  They came back like gangbusters and are now laden with seed pods full of seed.  If nothing kills them before the seed is fully ripe, it will be a true success story.

Beets in the front and 'Green Star' beans climbing poles.
'Amish Paste' tomatoes behind the beans and 'Beste Von Alum'
bush beans to the left.
The beans have a similar story, though they are still in the flowering stage.  ‘Green Star’ is a pole bean that was not for sale for years due to low population and, this year, Mickey was given 20 of the 30 or so seeds left to plant.  “I didn’t know what to expect, so I planted five of them in each corner,” she says as she points to the pole structure that supports healthy plants.  “Wouldn’t you know?  All five in each corner came up!  I had to thin them.”

Most of the plants here do well, though she has had some misfortunes.  Demonstration potatoes that occupied a far corner didn’t germinate, critters got to her peas, and she had to re-plant lavender and rosemary, as even hilling them with straw didn’t ensure their survival through the winter.  But for all of that, the garden is brimming with beautiful bounty.  Mickey encourages visitors to stop by and view the garden from a designated spot along the fence between flower plantings.  “Come back later on and see what’s growing,” Mickey says cheerily as we leave the garden to bask in the July sun.

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Saying Goodbye: Tom Martin


Blog Post by Shayla Carey

This week, we lost a man who was just as much a part of Landis Valley as the Landis brothers, the Isaac Landis family, or the Zangari family (who lived in the Seed House).  Tom Martin passed away on Sunday, June 26, from causes unknown to this writer.  He was employed by the PHMC for twenty-two years.  He was an inspiration to those who knew and worked with him in the Tavern and I was privileged to have known him even just a little bit.

I first saw Tom in the Tavern.  I was a volunteer who came to the annual Holiday Bonfire at Landis Valley to drive the horses around.  At the end of the night, I learned that one of the staff members had organized a huge spread of food for all of the volunteers.  Cooked entirely in the Tavern, it consisted of pies, pig stomach, turkey, ham, breads, drunken cranberries, tarts, and other delicacies.  Tom had supervised the labor and had provided much of the meal.  We all stuffed ourselves into the room, lined up, and heaped as much of the meal onto our plates as we could.  Tom didn't eat much--he sat in a corner, arms crossed over his belly, and basked in the glow of warm fellowship and holiday good wishes, catching up with old friends and socializing with co-workers.  Occasionally, I heard his trademark staccato, "ha-ha-ha-ha," punctuate the overall conversation and wished I had heard the joke, too. I was too busy enjoying my food.

Time passed and I joined the museum as an intern.  I got to work closely with Tom when he was assigned interpretation of the Brick House.  He was working on a rye basket and I needed a diversion from a homework assignment so I asked him about his craft.  He responded by not only telling me about rye baskets (did you know that they were used by Pennsylvania Germans because mice don't care for them and therefore won't get to the food inside?), but by putting some extra rye into his long, water-filled trough and then showing me how to make baskets, too.  While we worked, we talked about many things besides history.  He told me how he liked interpreting at the quiet Brick House best of all, he told me that he used to make baskets to sell, he joked about how he was related to many of the Martins in Lancaster County and I found out that we shared some left-leaning views on politics.  We worked on that basket the next time I was at the Brick with him and I got pretty good at it.  Unfortunately, my internship ended before I could finish the basket and it still sits in my office.

Tom at the head of our Summer Institute
Cooking class table. I am to the right of him.
I got to work with Tom again when I became a staff member.  It was during Summer Institute and I took his cooking class.  I learned to roll and lift a pie crust, to make the best lemon ice cream ever (by using two metal bowls, some ice, and rock salt), to knead bread with a gentle hand, and that scrapple is best fried in bacon grease over the open fire.  We supped in the open air and I gained a whole new appreciation for Tom's talents, as well as a glimpse into his popularity among other historic foodways interpreters.

I saw Tom on other occasions after that.  He worked in the Crafts Barn, at the front desk, and at the Brothers' House, but I didn't really get to talk to him too much after my Institute class.  I took some pictures of him in costume over the years and I interviewed him for articles. When he became ill and took a leave of absence, I learned more about him through stories from our co-workers.  Now, I mourn his loss when I reminice with others and read comments on Facebook from all of the visitors and friends he inspired over the course of his career and his life. We've lost a true treasure and we will miss him. Goodbye, Tom.