The Victoria amazonica first flowered at Melbourne’s Royal Botanic Gardens 150 years ago. It remains a big attraction to this day, writes Alan Teh Leam Seng.
MY steps pound the narrow winding path in my urgency to reach my destination. In my haste I barely notice the playful squirrels bounding on the lawn or the subtle fragrance of newly-blooming flowers in the air. These “distractions” can wait as time is of the essence.
If I delay, the object of my pursuit will sink into oblivion and I have no idea when the rare phenomenon will reoccur.
The path soon leads to a clearing in the form of a gentle downhill slope. My vision is no longer obstructed by dense foliage. The shimmering water in the distance and the melodious calls of the water bird tell me I’m near. Arriving at the water’s edge, I scan the area for what had been sensationally reported on social media the day before. Alas, I see nothing. Am I too late?
Suddenly, I see a group of people on the opposite side of the pond. Could they have spotted it? I decide to walk over just to be sure. Patches of what appear to be green circular floating trays come into vision. And there it is. Nestled among the gigantic lily pads is a solitary large purple flower, the very bloom that I’ve come all the way from across town to see.
PRECIOUS BLOOM
The news mentioned three blooms but only one remains. Giant water lily flowers are fragile and don’t last long. They start off as white flowers but over the span of 48 hours slowly acquire a pinkish tinge before ending their life in a burst of dazzling purple. By then, these fragrant flowers would have been pollinated by insects addicted to their sweet nectar.
But where are the two missing flowers? Pollinated water lily flowers gradually lose their buoyant characteristics and slowly submerge underwater to their next developmental stage - the transformation into green seed pods in the muddy depths of the pond.
The giant water lily was first discovered by European botanists exploring Bolivia in 1801. They subsequently introduced their new discovery to the scientific world, naming it after England’s Queen Victoria. Back then, this oversized species was considered one of the great horticultural wonders of the world.
This year marks the 150th anniversary of the first flowering of the giant water lily, Victoria amazonica, in the Royal Botanic Gardens Melbourne.
These plants were first brought into Australia by Ferdinand von Mueller, the Gardens’ first director (1857-73). There was much scepticism when these tropical aquatic plants were first introduced in Melbourne. Many doubted they could survive in the Australian climate.
The first blooms in 1867 were nothing short of a miracle and became the talk of the town. During his 16-year tenure, Muller was credited with introducing many plants, both local and foreign, to the Gardens. He also set up a fountain in the lagoon and organised concerts and horticultural shows to increase visitorship. Muller already had vast experience in horticulture prior to helming the Royal Botanic Gardens.
Four years prior to his appointment, he was appointed Victoria’s first government botanist. In that same year, he established the National Herbarium of Victoria to further his interest in plant research and identification.
Today, this herbarium is home to an extensive collection of botanical books, journals and artworks. However, it’s the collection of more than 1.2 million dried plant specimens that takes pride of place. Research findings are published in the journal Mulleria, named in honour of the herbarium’s founding father.
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THROUGH THE YEARS
The area where the Royal Botanic Gardens now calls home was once uninhabited swamp and marshlands. It took the determination and the far sighted vision of one man, Lieutenant Governor Charles La Trobe, to set aside this plot on the south bank of the Yarra River on March 16, 1846. The rest, as they say, is history.
Many have often wondered why a vast majority of the 10,000 floral species at the Royal Botanical Gardens are non-native species when Australia has such strict rules about bringing in plants and animal products from abroad.
This “invasion” can be traced to the mid-19th century. At that time, it was common practice for local botanists to trade seeds with their European counterparts.
Muller encouraged this exchange as he saw it both as a way for scientists to further their botanical understanding and also as an avenue to rapidly populate the vast 15.78ha Gardens.
Soon after, the Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne became “ground zero” from which many introduced species begin to spread rapidly throughout southeastern Australia.
The Gardens has faced various challenges throughout its 171-year history but after each trying episode it has managed to emerge stronger than before.
The most recent significant hurdle came in the form of a colony of endangered indigenous grey-headed flying foxes that began arriving in 2001.
These large fruit-eating bats were said to be very noisy and emitted a musty odour.
Eventually, a decision was made to relocate them to the nearby Yarra Bend Park bushland which had a similar landscape.
These flying foxes, like all bats, are important pollinators and seed dispersers of many native trees and plants, including the endangered rainforest and palm species.
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A HAVEN OF TRANQUILITY
There are many benches in the Gardens for visitors. What I hadn’t noticed before was that each one of these was not the same as the next.
There’s a metal inscription plate secured around the middle part of the back rest. The one I sat on was dedicated to a person who obviously enjoyed the place very much.
The words read: “Gabrielle (Gabby) Lyndon 1965-2014. Many precious times enjoyed with family and friends in these beautiful and serene gardens.”
These personal mementos call to mind a certain episode in the movie Notting Hill. William Thacker (played by Hugh Grant) and Anna Scott (portrayed by Julia Roberts) climbed over a fence and reached a private garden.
They walked across the lawn and came to a bench with a dedication plate that read: “For June who loved this garden, from Joseph who always sat beside her”.
Anna’s subsequent comment about people spending their entire lives together and Ronan Keating’s hauntingly beautiful song When You Say Nothing At All come flooding back as I sit and watch a pair of ducks swim happily alongside each other.
Before leaving I notice a banner promoting the Moonlight Cinema. A popular feature of the Royal Botanic Gardens Melbourne, it offers visitors advance screenings, new releases and cult classic films under the stars between December and April for a small fee.
Suddenly, a thought hits me. Perhaps I should attend one of these screenings during a full moon. I’ll use the night visitor entrance (Gate D) located along Birdwood Ave and make a quick detour to the lily pond.
I’m sure I’ll be able to make it before screening starts at 8.30pm. No doubt the flower would look even more stunning in the pale moonlight.
This reminds me of the South American legend which recounts how the Moon Goddess, Jaci, took pity upon a beautiful village maiden and turned her into a water lily plant when she fell into the water and drowned after seeing the reflection of the moon on the water’s surface. Now that’s a story.