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Olga Arseniev

Dinosaur Food

Our night-time temperatures are getting cooler, which means fall is coming. Wild mushrooms and fungi are now popping up around the garden. Their presence means decomposition is happening and that next year's soil will be beautiful. But frankly, there's no denying that large fungal growths in the garden are grotesque.

Thinking about grotesque things that spread in the garden reminds me of what I witnessed years ago while on a wonderful family trip to Scotland. It was on the grounds of Scone Palace in Perthshire that I first saw a plant by the name of Gunnera manicata. The plant is a clump-forming herbaceous perennial that originates in South America. Known to be one of the largest plants of its kind on earth, it grows over 8 feet tall by 13 feet wide.

The plant was first brought to Britain around 1850. Victorians considered it an ornamental addition to their landscape. They even nicknamed it “dinosaur food.” (Go figure.) It won the Royal Horticultural Society’s Award of Garden Merit. But the sight of it might remind you of Jurassic Park. It needs a lot of space to grow. Each leaf is tall enough to stand under and spreads over 4 feet wide.


Our friend, John Foxworthy-Bowers, and my children, Natalia and Jasper, hiding under the Gunnera.

Spread it does. One of the horrors of non-native plants is when they start feeling (too much) at home. The Brits call them thugs. Over 170 years after arriving in Britain, this plant has become hard to control. It thrives especially well in the moist, humus-rich soil areas of Scotland.

The environmental risks of Gunnera manicata in parts of the U.K. today is that it outcompetes native plants. By shading the ground beneath its leaves, new microclimates and ecosystems are created that make it hard for existing plants and wildlife to survive. Because it spreads via rhizomes (strong, underground, horizontal stems), it can damage buildings and riverbanks. Here's a time-lapse video of how fast it grows. To top it off, this behemoth reproduces from a tiny broken root fragment, or from one of the 250,000 seeds on its flower head. No wonder it’s been around since the dinosaurs.



Natalia and the Gunnera manicata. I call this photo "Thumbelina."

I'll be honest. I understand the desire to own a 150-million-year-old plant variety. I'd love to feature this anomaly in my garden. (What gardener wouldn’t?) Even more honestly, I checked to see if it would grow in our region. (Theoretically, it will.) I also checked on how well it does in alkaline soil. (It's not very particular. Duh.) That's because when I first saw this Godzilla of a plant across a forest clearing, my heart skipped a beat. It was breath-taking. And though it didn’t move (based on our definition of movement), its presence made me feel slightly anxious.

My reaction comes from a play I saw years ago in New York City called “Little Shop of Horrors.” It was about a giant plant that was prone to eating people. Gunnera doesn’t, but the thought of it might cross your mind. It’s hard to imagine living with a plant that you can't turn your back on.


Little Shop of Horrors first began as an off-Broadway play.

Ok. I will stop now. This plant will captivate your imagination. As a gardener, you might even struggle with a deep-seated Neanderthal urge to own it. (I do.) But for now, the large fungi in my garden are grotesque enough. Plus, I trust them in my soil.

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