The Grass is Greener at the Des Moines Botanical Gardens
Before even setting foot inside the tropical conservatory of the Greater Des Moines Botanical Gardens, guests are greeted by vibrant bursts of nature. Dozens of butterflies flutter playfully around the brightly colored flowers, while small, speedy hummingbirds dart overhead. It’s easy to forget the gardens are nestled right in the heart of the city — and even easier to forget that in a few weeks time, everything outside of the conservatory will be different.
“One of the greatest times of year to be in the gardens is during the fall,” says Derek Carwood, the curatorial horticulturalist for the gardens.
“There’s a lot of different types of grasses — a Little Bluestem, for example — that turn a bright red-purple,” he says. “The asters are all blooming. It’s a whole different feel during the fall.”
Carwood, like many of the other 30-something employees that keep the gardens in tip-top shape, is eager to engage and educate. He points out some fan favorite plants like the Corpse Flower, which bloomed this summer to create a pungent, rotting-meat-like scent. Carwood also offers up fun facts about a variety of plants in the outdoor gardens, from the bonsai that’s been “in training” since 1865, to the hardy opuntia humifasa cactus. It looks like it would be more at home in a Las Vegas desert, but it’s actually native to Iowa and robust enough to survive the cold, unforgiving winters. All the while, Carwood is adjusting plant signs, shifting foliage, and absently guiding grasshoppers from the outdoor sidewalk of gardens to safety with his shoe — all second nature to him.
Apart from the educational signs and walkways, evidence of human interference is scarce in the gardens. People stroll through the greenery on their own or in small groups. Most speak softly, as though their voices might startle the magenta orchids or spook the painted lady butterflies that flutter about.
Beyond the distant murmur of the city and the view of downtown from the outskirts of the gardens, the biggest reminder of human influence comes from the lily pads that float in the outdoor algae-covered water garden. Native to the amazons, they are large and impressive, their outer rims covered in sharp spikes to protect them from hungry and curious critters.
“Unfortunately, people like to throw coins onto them,” says Carwood, motioning toward the quarter-covered pads. The coin tossing might make a fun game for kids, but it often leads to the untimely demise of these massive beauties when a coin rips through their delicate skin.
Inside the conservatory, the tropical foliage remains largely unchanged year-round. On a hot, late September day the temperature hovers at 91 degrees, while in the winter it will be closer to 75. Garden-goers walk by plants of prehistoric proportions — the massive, emerald leaves that loom overhead look as though they would be perfectly at home in the Jurassic era, while the spindly succulents that make for such popular potted plants might stand two or three feet tall. Near the indoor waterfall, a dried out, sun-bleached branch drops to the ground, spilling dozens of bright red berries into the walkway. Older guests make their way carefully around the mess, while the occasional child will pointedly smash a few berries as he goes, glancing back to admire his handiwork before tippy-toeing to peer at the slow-moving koi fish in the water below.
As summertime makes its slow exit, the energy at the garden slips to something quieter. The atmosphere changes to something Carwood says is almost nostalgic.
“Things start going dormant…it’s a time to reflect and slow down and start prepping for the next year,” he says. “It really feels like fall around here in the outside gardens. It smells different. It feels different. Especially after that first frost… It’s a totally different world from the summertime.”
