. . . and extreme ecological importance in high-elevation wetlands.</p>It’s likely that at some point, you have been out for a stroll and admired a pretty grass fanning gently in the wind…or maybe it was a sedge? Or a rush? It’s also likely that to solve this puzzle you looked musingly to the sky and recited to yourself: sedges have edges, rushes are round, grasses have knees that bend to the ground</strong>. And voila! You were botanizing, if only for a second, as you made your way in nature.</p>While the first and fundamental step of botanizing is naming what plant you have, the next is understanding how it shapes the ecosystem in which it occurs. With sedges, many of us know about the useful diagnostic clue of the angular stem. But less well known is that sedges of the genus Carex </em>comprise one of the largest plant groups in the world, with more than 2,000 species occurring worldwide. Many sedges have expansive circumboreal distributions spanning from Russia, to the Great Lakes, to Canada.</p>Carex </em>is also the largest genus of plants in Colorado, containing over 100 species. While sedges may not be showy, they are ecological superstars, forming the botanical backbone of one the state’s most important habitat types, the wetland. There are many types of wetlands including marshes, riparian corridors along creeks and streams and peatlands such as bogs and fens. Such habitats are oases in our otherwise semi-arid region, supporting a high diversity of plants and animals, many of which do not occur outside of their wetland refugia.</p>Importantly, wetlands cover only 3-6 percent of Earth’s land area, and they are increasingly threatened by land use change, invasive species, and altered temperature and precipitation regimes. Our hope of dynamically managing wetlands under future conditions rests upon knowing which species occur in the here and now, under contemporary conditions.</p>To contribute to this effort, a crew of staff and volunteers from the Gardens’ Research & Conservation Department made plant collections (to be curated for decades to come in our herbarium) at a high-elevation fen in Gilpin County, CO. From above, the fen glitters like a bright jewel, with a lush carpet of lime-green sedges punctuated by sun-lit pools of water.</p>Take flight over the fen yourself! </a>The abundant sedges, along with water-loving wildflowers like grass of Parnassus (Parnassia palustris</em>) and elephant’s head (Pedicularis groenlandica</em>), root themselves into deep, peaty substrates that take thousands of years to accumulate. (The slow work of peat formation makes fens extremely hard to restore and much of our team worked from the upland sidelines during collection.) </p>While some sedges grow in drier habitats, they often prefer or are restricted to wetlands. Because of this affinity, sedges speak volumes about wetland type and health. For example, “obligate wetland” species are just that—obligated to grow in wetlands—so their presence helps to define wetland boundaries and suggests a relatively intact hydrologic regime.</p>Our survey of the Gilpin County fen turned up 11 species of Carex,</em> five of which are obligate to wetlands and four of which highly prefer them (these being “facultative wetland” species). The presence of another beautiful sedge, Eriophorum angustifolium</em>, told tale of the ecological integrity of the fen. This species, sometimes called cottongrass for its fluffy shock of snow-white seed heads, is dependent on relatively pristine wetland habitat to survive. We were happy to include it on our plant list of 160 species found at the site this year!</p>In closing, let’s return to the first and fundamental step of botanizing: naming what you have. Sedges are an extremely difficult group to get to know. Sedges having edges is the tip of the diagnostic iceberg (with even this well-known ID hack having many exceptions), and taxonomically defining this one slice of the botanical menagerie is a feat. Luckily for folks who botanize in Colorado, Dr. Janet Wingate has just made the world of sedges more accessible with her illustrated publication titled Sedges of Colorado</em>. Check it out and make room for it in your backpack on your next hike!</p>
It’s a little hard to believe, but fall truly is upon us. The days are shorter, the air is crisper and, any day now, the trees will let go of their leaves and keep us busy raking until November. During this time of the year, many visitors ask if there are still plants worth seeing in the outdoor displays. Certainly, many flowers are still putting on a show. The easiest way to find them is to follow the hordes of bees and butterflies collecting the last bits of pollen to aid in their journey south or to prepare for their winter break. However, fall is also the best time to appreciate some of the plant features that are overlooked in the warmer months. Among these are berries, evergreen foliage and interesting bark patterns.</p> The snowberry shrub (Symphoricarpus albus)</em>, so called because of the many clusters of small, white berries, is a plant that becomes more beautiful as its leaves begin to drop. Most seasons, the berries persist through the winter providing food for foraging birds. A large group of these shrubs can be seen along the Monet Pond as you enter the Japanese Garden.</p> Another group of plants with a spectacular late-season fruit set are the prickly pear cacti (Opuntia spp.</em>). Throughout several of our gardens, including Water-Smart Garden and Dryland Mesa, Opuntia phaeacantha</em> are covered in fruit that is not only beautiful, but also quite delicious once all the spines are removed!</p> In addition to thriving in dry conditions and producing a gorgeously scented bloom in late spring, the semi-evergreen foliage of Daphne ‘Carol Mackie’ (Daphne x burkwoodii </em>‘Carol Mackie’) also provides an interesting texture to the fall landscape. Deciduous evergreen shrubs are somewhat hard to come by in Colorado; for some of the best examples at the Gardens, check out the Romantic Gardens.</p> My last suggestion for appreciating the Gardens in fall is to admire the tree bark that is so often overshadowed by leaves and flowers during the growing season. That being said, my number one recommendation happens to be the bark of an evergreen tree, Pinus bungeana, </em>or the Lacebark Pine. You must make a visit to the Birds and Bees Walk to see the camouflage-like bark of this gorgeous specimen!</p>
Colorado is known worldwide for its lush mountain habitats with towering forests of pine, fir and aspen. This grand topography, tied to a romantic history of silver mining and pioneer grit, shapes much of the state’s identity. Yet it is only one part of Colorado’s unique ecological and human story.</p> The Eastern Plains of Colorado comprise 40 percent of the state’s land, boasting their own natural beauty and rich history of people forging close ties to the land. In an age when people are aggregating in cities and, some might argue, losing touch with the faraway lands that provide their food and fiber, rural landowners are becoming critical stewards of our ecological treasures.</p> Cattle ranching is a major part of the agricultural economy on the Eastern Plains. In contrast to planting crops, which is a (necessary) land use that displaces native plants and animals, grazing can support diverse and ecologically important habitat. This is because sustainable cattle grazing mimics historic conditions, when bison roamed the prairies feeding on native grasses. The result is that many ranchers in eastern Colorado steward healthy grassland habitats that reduce soil erosion, filter water and enhance groundwater recharge, and support abundant wildlife. Now consider two things: private grazing lands cover nearly one-third of the nation, and many of these grasslands are woefully under-studied from a botanical perspective.</p> Botanical inventories form the foundation of plant biodiversity research, which aims to understand where different species occur and why. Such understanding has far-reaching applications, from documenting where medically important plants occur, to determining how species will respond to global change. During a botanical inventory, individuals of different plant species are collected and accessioned into a herbarium, where both the specimen and its associated data are curated in perpetuity.</p> At Denver Botanic Gardens, we have more than 60,000 plants accessioned in the Kathryn Kalmbach Herbarium. We are still growing the collection to expand knowledge about Colorado’s plant communities. A look at the numbers reveals a striking gap in what we know about grasslands: of more than half a million plant collections made in Colorado since the early 1700s, less than 30,000 (5 percent) are from the 14 counties that make up the state’s rural Eastern Plains. This lack of data represents a serious challenge to conserving one of the nation’s major ecosystems.</p> This past summer, staff and volunteers from the Gardens had the opportunity to survey well-stewarded, private grazing lands in Kiowa County, which is in the southeastern corner of the state on the border of Kansas. Unbroken (never ploughed or tilled) grassland habitat provides the closest representation of pristine prairie available to researchers today. We surveyed beautiful sandhill sage prairie habitat on the properties of Cardon G. Berry and Cathryn Anderson, both of whom have long-time family ranches.</p> If you have not seen sandhill sage prairie, Go East, young men and women! This habitat occurs on deep, sandy soils associated with dune systems and ancient floodplains. Sandhill sage (Artemisia filifolia</em>) shrubs have thread-like silvery leaves filled with aromatic compounds that perfume the sun-warmed prairie air. A sea of visually and taxonomically diverse grasses, including blue grama (Bouteloua gracilis</em>), sand bluestem (Andropogon hallii</em>), and western wheatgrass (Pascopyrum smithii</em>), grow within the shrub matrix. During the team’s September survey, many of the grasses had dehisced (let loose) their anthers, presenting an explosion of miniature yellow, magenta, and orange streamers to those with a keen eye. Several species with showy flowers streaked the prairie with late-season color. One of our favorites of the trip, a golden beauty of the daisy family, Pectis angustifolia</em>, smelled of the freshest lemons in Italy when crushed (true to one of its common names, Limoncello).</p> Despite the lure of so many olfactory and visual distractions, the field team, led by Dr. Janet Wingate, collected over 48 county records in Kiowa this year! This fact is both inspiring and sobering: inspiring because our own backyards still hold the promise of fresh discovery; sobering because until we document what is in our own backyards, we cannot hope to conserve them for future generations. We thank the private landowners who helped us explore another corner of the world this field season!</p>
