George Elliot - The Romance of Plant Life

Every gardener knows that Autumn Crocus and other bulbs do not remain in the same position. They wander below ground in a curious and inexplicable fashion.

The Solomon's Seal has an underground, fleshy stem, which prefers to grow at a definite depth. If it is planted close to the surface, then the point of the next year's little fleshy bud turns downwards; next year it again turns downwards, and so on every year, until the stem has reached its proper depth. Then it grows horizontally. Similarly, if it is planted too deep it grows upwards.

Thus if one wishes to realize the underground life of plants, one must picture to oneself: —

1. The usual descending roots, whose system of branching may be compared to the ordinary branching above ground. It is often not unlike the reflection in water of the tree itself, such as one might see on a fine winter's day along the shore of some still lake.

2. The bold, exploring, horizontal runners of Couchgrass, Thistle, Bishopsweed, etc., vigorously pushing their way at a depth too great for the gardener's spade.

3. All sorts of bulbs, runners, and roots being slowly hauled or dragged about till they get into exactly the right position, but never remaining for two years in exactly the same place. All have their favourite depth 42—

The water evaporating on the surface of the soil must, as it rises from the permanent water-level below, pass the gauntlet of all these thirsty rootlets and their hairs. Tree-roots will be ready to intercept it at ten feet depth, many herbaceous plants will suck it in at depths of five to six feet, and in the upper layers of soil it will have to pass root-system after root-system from Asparagus to Paris, so that very little will be lost.

Perhaps of more importance are the bacteria-germs, and dissolved mineral salts in the rainwater as it trickles down from the surface. The soil particle acts as a filter: at every inch of the descent some of the bacteria and salts will be left, so that by the time the level of Asparagus has been reached there will be exceedingly few, and the water is comparatively speaking pure. The effect of this vigorous underground life is often visible on the surface. Roots, and particularly tree-roots, are often extraordinarily strong. Kerner, in his invaluable Natural History of Plants , has a beautiful picture of a young larch tree which had grown in a fissure of a huge boulder.

In attempting to grow, the root had forced up part of this stone. It was estimated that it had lifted a weight of 3000 lb., though it was only some ten inches in diameter.

Along a dry-stone wall, or even near houses, the growth of tree-roots very often damages the entire wall, which may be entirely overthrown if the tree is too near. The force of the growth of the roots is so great that even a six-foot stone wall cannot keep them down.

Quite a young seedling root, in forcing itself through the soil, may exercise a pressure of two-thirds to four-fifths of a pound!

This is of course necessary, if one remembers that it has to drive itself through the earth, pushing aside and compressing the earth particles along its course.

The life of a cherry tree – Cherries in March – Flowering of gorse – Chickweed's descendants – Forest fires in Africa – Spring passing from Italy to the frozen North – Life in the Arctic – Dwarfs – Snow-melting soldanellas – Highland Arctic-Alpine plants – Their history – Arctic Britain – Edelweiss – An Alpine garden.

IT is impossible to understand and very difficult to explain the sort of life and consciousness which is enjoyed by plants.

That they do live is obvious; we know instinctively that they enjoy fine weather in summer and gentle showers in spring, but we cannot prove it.

Much of a plant's life is concealed and hidden from us. Even the few explanations which have been given by certain observers are by no means generally accepted.

This is true even as regards the case of the Cherry tree, which has been experimented with, and fought over and argued about by botanists, and yet we only know a very little about its inner life.

When the leaves fall in autumn, next season's buds are already formed and are then about one-eighth of their full size. At this time the tree contains enormous quantities of food-stores, for the whole season's work of the leaves has been accumulating until this moment. During the long winter's "sleep" the tree is by no means at rest. It is arranging and packing up those stores in the safest place and in the most convenient form.

Just as a bear, before it retires to sleep during the winter, takes care to get as fat as possible, so the Cherry turns its starch to fat, and stores it away in the innermost and least exposed parts of the tree, that is in the central wood. As soon as the winter ends, and indeed before it has ended, preparations are beginning for the great moment of the year. For weeks there is a slow, gradual, almost imperceptible growth of the buds, then they develop with a rush, and in six to ten days double or treble their weight. Then comes the supreme moment, for the flower-buds suddenly burst open and the Cherry is in active and vigorous bloom and covered all over with exquisite blossoms. All last year's fats and starches are rapidly used up. Very soon the young leaves are beginning to make sugar and other food, which give some help during the ripening of the fruit.

The flowers are actively at work. One of our usual misconceptions as to the nature of a flower is that it is an emblem of peace, of restful enjoyment, of serene contemplation of its own beauty. That is very far from being the truth. The petals are actively, vigorously working. If one could take the pulse of a petal, which shows the rapidity of its breathing, one would find that it is twice as fast as that of the leaf. The work of changing water into vapour and pouring it out goes on three times as quickly in the petals (as compared with the leaves). Moreover their temperature is higher, and often distinctly above that of the atmosphere.

This feverish activity of the flowers themselves is matched by the hurrying crowds of excited and exhilarated insects which are searching every blossom.

No wonder that the Japanese Prime Minister, in the midst of their great and famous war, invited the whole cabinet to spend an afternoon watching the cherry trees in bloom!

From the blossom of the springtime all through summer and autumn follows one continuous spell of hard work. Day after day an endless stream of food is entering the stem; night after night it is condensed and arranged and repacked, until, when the leaves fall, the period of slow and quiet preparation begins again.

Under certain conditions it is possible for gardeners to modify the life of a cherry, and to make it bloom much earlier, but this is only possible within well-defined limits. It is no use trying to force it to bloom before January. It must have a quiet time after summer. But by beginning in January and by very carefully managing the temperature, it can be made to produce fruit quite early in the year.

The following account is given to show how very carefully gardeners have to work when they upset the ordinary course of Nature's events. The plant is taken into a greenhouse, and the temperature kept as follows: —

Not merely strong, forcing heat, but a little judicious cold, is necessary to get out the flowers and to ripen the fruit. 43