There must be a slumber for an awakening
As my cab made its way from Managua Airport to Laguna de Apoyo, Nicaragua, the surroundings could best be described as hot, dry and brown — as in very BROWN. Definitely not humid, lush and green, as one might expect at 12 degrees N, 86 degrees W. It’s the summer, or dry season, here. And while not the time to visit if one wants green and lush, it was the time for my winter escape from the 757
My destination for the month of February was formed some 20,000 years ago, when the giant Volcan Apoyo imploded on itself, creating a massive crater that over time filled with water. The result, a steepsided crater lake, the sides of which have become forested. It is about 29 miles in area and more than 650 feet in depth — the deepest spot in all of Central America. And also the cleanest, thanks to the government declaring it a nature reserve in 1901.
OK, so what does all of this have to do with plants? Well, while floating around the laguna on my trusty float, observing the mostly brown vegetation on the crater, I thought about the trees, here and at home, and just how diverse and adaptable they must be to survive in this tough old world.
Like many of those along the highway here, most had lost their leaves or were in the process. This is a survival adaptation, to prepare for, and assist in coping with the dry season. Fewer leaves equal less water loss. Basically, pack it in for the dry season, and wait for the rains to return.
I also notice that many trees are beginning to flower or are in flower now. This is a strategy to coordinate with pollinators before the wet season begins, and to time fruit and seed production with the onset of the upcoming wet season. Fruits need rainfall to develop and produce viable, as well as abundant, seeds for the next generation of seedlings.
The seasons here are defined not by temperature, as at home, but by rainfall. Temperatures are pretty constant throughout the year, it is the precipitation that varies. It hasn’t rained here in months. In three weeks, I’ve seen a few threatening clouds that have produced a grand total of one raindrop. Alvaro, the gardener here, is the hard- est working guy around. He spends each and every day, all day, raking and transporting leaves. Then he repeats it again the next, six days a week.
The deciduous trees at home — last fall seems long ago — also shed their leaves. But this was for a different reason — in response to signals that clued them that winter and cold temperatures were on the way. It was time to reallocate their reserves back to the mothership and check out for the winter. And then comes, for many of us, our turn to participate in that great autumn ritual: the raking of the leaves. The seeds of our native trees have built-in dormancy mechanisms that ensure they germinate in the right season, when the seedlings have the best chance to survive. All over this world, the adaptations that plants have made in order to exist is nothing short of amazing.
Back home, three more weeks of winter, but spring is on the way. Soon we will begin to notice just the slightest hint of green on the those bare trees as they exit their winter slumber. With that awakening will be an explosion of green, as trees rush to get their many solar collectors in position for the growing season.
But here at the Laguna, the trees will still await the rainy season (May-November) to signal their green awakening.
And one more thing ...
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