Growing Things

I know I just wrote about my seedlings a few days ago, but I am so excited at all the little sprouts HB and I have managed to raise in less than two weeks.

HB's peppers are really starting to get sizeable -- about three inches high, which is huge compared to my thyme and basil sprouts. My cilantro is starting to put on some height, too, though. HB planted nine varieties of peppers, and so far eight of them have sprouted. Still waiting on the Butch T's, which are, of course, the ones HB most wanted to see.

Here's a look at the whole operation. I have no idea how we're going to find space for all these plants once we transplant into larger pots, but we'll figure something out.

Almost as exciting as our seedlings is what appears to be an actual dragonfruit growing on the dragonfruit tree. This was the last of the four blossoms to open, and magically, it appears to have actually been pollinated. Will definitely be keeping an eye on this over coming weeks.

Seedlings

HB and I planted our herb and pepper seeds on Monday morning, and resigned ourselves to a couple of weeks of waiting before anything happened. Imagine my excitement then, when, on Wednesday morning, not 48 hours after planting, I saw this:

Bright green seedlings growing in some of my seed cups.

They're so vibrant and big already, you can even see them through the double-layered plastic. I know basil is especially fast-growing, but I have thyme and rosemary sprouts too! The environment here is apparently very seed-friendly. Can't wait for some of HB's peppers to start popping up.

Dragonfruit Flower

Obviously I have been rather absent for the last week or so, and with no previous notice. I had to spend some time in Denver with my parents, and it was not at the top of my list of priorities to update my blog. I appreciate those of you who have still been checking in here, and reassure you that regular posting will begin again forthwith.

I do give fair warning, however, that I am currently very happy with my island home, and find it much harder to write entertainingly about the BVI when I am happy here. As a result, you may be subjected to lots of drivel about how lovely things are, and little ranting about utilities or immigration or other similar items.

Onward! Upon my return from Denver, there was a lovely surprise waiting for me in the garden. Our landlords have thoughtfully planted a dragonfruit tree (or pitaya) just near the gate to our residence. Ordinarily, the dragonfruit tree, with its spiny, reaching limbs, garner only our occasional annoyance as we try not to stab ourselves in the eye while entering or exiting the garden. But sometimes, for just a few nights a year, we are rewarded with its extraordinary blossoms.

These astounding flowers are approximately 8 inches in diameter, literally as big as my face, and open for just one night only. Last summer, when we moved in to the apartment, we happened upon one when returning from the bar late one night, but it had withered and died by the time we awoke the next morning. Since I've been back, three have opened, and there is another bud awaiting the right moment.

Unfortunately, we are unlikely to get any dragon fruit from this plant. With blossoms open for only one night, a pollinator would have to fly from this plant, to another one nearby that is also flowering, within the confines of one evening, in order to produce fruit. Although I'm sure there are other pitayas on Tortola, I've never seen one myself, so I'm doubtful this one will be pollinated. The flowers alone are satisfying enough, though.

Pineapple

Wandering around the garden yesterday, HB was somewhat surprised to encounter this:

Having never encountered a pineapple plant before, the immediate identifiability of the fruit and the manner in which it grew made me almost think someone had bought a pineapple at the store and "planted" it (metaphorically speaking) as a trick. No, in fact, apparently this is how pineapples actually grow, right-side up at the end of a thick stalk.

I guess I'd never really deeply thought about it before, but somehow I just assumed that all pineapples came from Hawaii. Encountering this evidence to the contrary in the garden made me realize that of course, pineapples are probably grown in countries throughout the temperate zone, even here in the BVI.

Early Bloomer

Here's something you don't see very often, if at all, in mid-April in the States

This rose-bush by our porch has been going crazy for the last week or so, covered in lovely, fragrant blooms. What a wonderful surprise.

Pink

While the bougainvillea and rhododendrons bloom year-round, my favorite harbinger of spring in the BVI are these trees with pink blossoms.

They're positively everywhere on island, and this time of year, they're all in bloom -- and I have no idea what they are. An old man on the street told me while I was taking photos that they're cedars, but I think it's pretty clear that they aren't.

The hillside of Martins is just covered with them. Driving down a street lined with them is like the ending of a Disney movie, as the slightest breeze brings the bell-shaped flowers pirouetting down, calyx first.

To me, the individual blossoms don't seem particularly lovely up-close, but when the trees have huge clusters, as in the first picture, it's almost like the bush is filled with cotton candy.

Anyone have any idea at identification?

Pale Pink

There are several different varieties of hibiscus in the gardens of our apartment building, but this one is my favorite. About once every two weeks, it puts out two perfect pale pink blooms, that last for a day, or maybe two.

For hibiscus enthusiasts, the BVI Hibiscus Society meets once a month to celebrate the flowers and compare particularly lovely examples. They also organize an annual show at the J.R. O'Neal Botanic Gardens in Road Town, usually in late September or early October.

Soursop

It is soursop season in the BVI. Soursop is a fruit that I may have heard of, but had certainly never seen or tasted before coming to the BVI. It grows abundantly on Tortola, and this time of year there are giant ones in the grocery stores, and plenty for sale by street vendors. The soursop flesh has a somewhat creamy texture, like a cross between a banana and a pineapple, and tastes fairly bright and citrus-like. Most of my co-workers say they rarely eat the flesh, but love to drink the juice as it's very refreshing.

Caribbean natives also claim soursop juice works as a pleasant health tonic, and there is some medical evidence that both soursop fruit and juice and tea made from soursop leaves, can inhibit the growth of cancer cells. On the other hand, some research has also suggested that the high levels of annonacin in soursop, the same chemical responsible for inhibiting cancer growth, can be responsible for certain types of Parkinson's.

Whether it helps with cancer, or hurts with Parkinson's, soursop fruit and juice is delicious, and can happily be consumed for that reason alone.

Downtown

This extremely large, flourishing bougainvillea in the open space between Bolo's and Vanterpool Pharmacy makes me happy, especially on days that start out as grey and rainy as today did.

Eggplant

I've been driving past this strange plant for months now, wondering what on earth is going on. At first glimpse, I thought it had very strange flowers, and then I realized that instead, someone had decorated the tips with eggshells.

It wasn't until I read this post on the Key West Local yesterday that I realized my unusual eggplant was only an iteration on a theme.

Poinsettias

In the BVI, Poinsettias are not just for Christmas.

The temperate climate in the BVI means poinsettias can be grown as perennials in your garden. To get the brightest red leaves though still takes a bit of enterprise, as the poinsettias need a full 12 hours of darkness for the green leaves to change to red.

Whoever owns this lovely example on the Cane Garden Bay Road seems to be doing quite a good job.

Cotton Balls

There is a spindly little plant struggling for a hold in the sandy soil of the Windy Hill hillside that, from the flowers, I could almost think is a cotton plant. From a quick google image search, the leaf shape seems accurate, so perhaps it is cotton.

My quick snap while driving doesn't provide a clear image of the flowers, which are definitely fuzzy little balls, like cotton bolls.

Although plantations in the Virgin Islands were primarily sugar cane, there are records that indicate that more arid, sandy soil was planted in cotton instead, in order to maximize profits, so perhaps this little bush is a remnant of a previous era

Growing Season

I am still unaccustomed to the dual growing season that happens in the BVI, and, I assume, throughout much of the tropics. Springtime, March and April especially, is the main time to see flowers in the BVI, but there is a secondary bloom that occurs now, in November.

 
Not all flora participates in the November bloom. In fact, it seems rather limited to hibiscus, rhodedenron and bougainvillea. I suppose the breadfruit trees bloomed again, too, but their non-showy blossoms make them a bit more forgettable.

  And I'm not so sure I should refer to November as the "second bloom" for the bougainvillea.

Based on their enthusiasm this month, I rather think the bougainvillea regard this as their first bloom.

Noni

Every now and again, a co-worker of mine or of HB's will give us an interesting piece of fruit, something we have inevitably been unfamiliar with up to that point. The marmy apple one of the gardeners at work gave me is probably the most appetizing of the new fruits we've tried, although the genips this past summer were pretty good, too.

A few days ago, HB received this:

Called a noni, this russet-potato-sized fruit is, as HB's coworkers promptly informed him, not good for anything. Apparently, the flesh is far too bitter to be worth trying to eat. One person told him he could put the fruit in a jar and let it ferment. After fermenting for several weeks, the juices would apparently make an excellent health-tonic, due to the large quantities of micronutrients found in the noni.

Having done battle with so much mold and other spores since living here, I was reluctant to let the noni ferment in the house, so HB and I left it sitting on the counter for a few days until we could come up with a better use for it. Unfortunately, I did not read that wikipedia link earlier, and woke up this morning with a full understanding of why the noni is sometimes called the "vomit fruit".

Into the trash and out of the house it went. Hopefully the next intriguing fruit will be less odoriferous.

Current

Perhaps it's because I didn't grow up around the ocean, but I find the entire idea of currents quite confusing. I've been thinking about ocean currents lately because of seaweed. Unlike the Florida Keys, where the beaches and coastline are often lined with dead, dried seaweed, Tortola's shores remain primarily seaweed-free. Why are the Keys inundated with seaweed while the BVI is left barren?

Except that over the last three days, I've noticed this accumulation of seaweed along the coastal highway just past Pockwood Pond. For a stretch of maybe a mile, the coastline is clogged with seaweed. What changed in the ocean current to cause this sudden buildup? And why is it only in this particular spot, not all over Tortola?

It also seems that maybe this is a regular occurrence, as on Saturday, I noticed a passel of locals pulled over and harvesting the dried seaweed that had washed up on shore. I suppose that they too had just seen it while driving by, but it seemed as though many folks on Saturday were driving specifically to that spot for the seaweed harvest. Granted, I haven't seen anyone collecting since then.

I realize that there are many things that could contribute to this unusual seaweed event other than ocean currents. Maybe the ocean temperature is higher which is causing the seaweed to die and float to the surface. Maybe a passing storm tore a bunch of kelp from its tenuous roots, or there's been an invasion of sea urchins with the same result. But for now, since I don't understand them, I'm blaming the currents. I'm pretty sure they're at least responsible for this accretion only occurring on a two-mile stretch of coastline.

Appealing Appellation

When I took these pictures in the middle of June, I intended to use them in a post about how the Flamboyant Trees were just starting to bloom. At the time, none was as far progressed in its flowering as this one, near the Red Cross on Station Road.

Now that the season for Flamboyants has progressed by 10 days or so, this tree looks downright sparse, as others are literally covered with blossoms to the point where you can no longer see any green leaves. 

I first encountered Flamboyants in Florida, where they masquerade under the name of "Royal Poinciana". While "Royal Poinciana" is perhaps more true to the taxonomic relationship the tree bears to other vegetation, I prefer the aptly descriptive "Flamboyant", as in the summer-time, when the hillsides of Tortola are aflame with their blossoms, they are truly the most ostentatiously flamboyant thing you've ever seen.

Beachside Botany

At Brewer's Bay beach on Friday, I took this photo of a tree with a calabash vine growing on it, and attached calabash fruit. I've seen a few trees with calabash vines around - one on Virgin Gorda and one on St. John. The one we came upon in Virgin Gorda was particularly note-worthy, as the tree was almost completely leaf-less, but had 20-30 pumpkin-sized calabash fruits suspended from its spindly limbs. The branches of the tree look hardly capable of supporting such huge fruit, which looked as if they grew directly from the tree itself. Calabash, particularly the juice, can be toxic too, although the toxicity of the calabash pales in comparison with the manchineel. Still, probably best not to try to eat it should you encounter it, even though it might look like a delicious watermelon from the outside.

Island fruits

I love talking botany and foodstuffs with my co-workers, and the numerous fruit trees on the property present a wide variety of topics for us to learn a little bit about each other's cultures.

One conversation resulted in the astonishment of my co-worker that not only had I never tasted a marmy apple (also known as a mammy apple) before, I'd never even heard of one. So the gardener picked a ripe one off the tree for me, and I shared it with HB at home.

Similarly, although I'd heard of and seen breadfruit before, I had no idea what to do with the ripe one our gardener tried to give me. "Cook it like a potato" was the answer from one of the housekeepers. Not exactly self-explanatory, as there are so many ways to cook a potato.

My general ignorance of which fruit or nut is growing on which tree has also led staff members to assume I don't know what almonds or tangerines are - a misunderstanding quickly cleared up when I explain that although I've eaten them plenty of times, I've never seen them growing "in the wild" as it were.

Perhaps most satisfying is the overall willingness of BVIslanders and those from throughout the Caribbean to share their knowledge of island fruits and plants with me. All I have to do is ask. Guess it's time to find out what those spiny green things on the tree near the laundry are. I think they're sugar apples, but I'd be delighted to find out I'm wrong.

Manchineel Tree

HB and I were taking a stroll along Brewer's Bay beach the other evening after work when we spotted a tree that looked much like an outsized crab apple.

It had rough bark, and had dropped little green fruits, along with brown, over-ripe fruits, all along the beach. It still had many brown fruits on it. I touched the fruit on the tree to see if it was hard, or soft, as the brown fruit looked more like seed-pods or nuts than fruit. We speculated a bit as to what it might be, at first suggesting a tamarind (not even close), before HB said, "wait, is it a manchineel? Aren't manchineel trees meant to look like crab apples?"

When we got home, we googled manchineel tree and discovered HB's identification to be correct. We also learned a bit about how dangerous manchineels can be.

First and foremost, the manchineel emits a toxic sap that causes an allergic skin reaction. Standing beneath a manchineel tree in the rain, or lashing yourself to a manchineel tree to escape a hurricane (a Florida Keys legend) can cause skin blistering so bad that people have actually died from it. The smoke from a burning manchineel can cause blindness upon contact with the eyes.

Besides the toxic sap, the fruit of the manchineel is also poisonous. Consuming small quantities of the fruit will result in blisters inside the mouth and throat. Consuming large quantities is fatal. The leaves and bark of the tree are also toxic in their own distinct ways. In all, the one tree contains about 8 chemicals that are toxic to humans and animals.

And there HB and I were, standing underneath it, handling the fruit and touching the leaves. Thankfully, neither of us came to any harm from our brush with the manchineel tree at Brewer's Bay. Should you visit the Caribbean, or southern Florida, be sure not to interact with any trees that look like over-grown crab apples.

Frangipani

My new favorite flower is the frangipani. Although I know they grow in the Florida Keys, I had never seen them until I moved to the BVI. The first time I remember seeing a frangipani in bloom was when we went the Baths on Virgin Gorda in November, and the most beautiful, perfect, yellowish flowers with just the slightest tinge of pink were growing on a tree outside the restaurant there. The loveliness of the blossoms and pleasant scent made me fall in love with that tree right away..

I was too embarrassed at the time to ask what they were, but when the author of Key West Diary mentioned them in a post,  I started seeking them out. Since then, I haven't been able to get enough of the frangipani, and while most of the examples I've seen have those same, yellowy-pink blooms, these strongly pink blossoms on St. John caught my eye.