Did the 19th-century plant hunters of the West bring back the culture of flower appreciation from China's ancient civilization? In Taiwan, with its year-round spring and after our economic miracle, can we inherit the gentle teaching of flowers?
No matter what corner of the world you might be in, this series of articles about flowers will accompany you in appreciating the changing seasons, and will soothe the longing for home to allow the enjoyment of the coming blossoms and butterflies.
"The fog rolled back all around me, and the purple rhododendrons appeared as it receded, like a wildfire burning in its wake, gradually blazing further and further until swathes of rhododendron flames finally engulfed the whole mountainside. . . ." (Hsu Jen-hsiu)
In the cool days of spring, when the winter scene of drab, withered shrubs and trees suddenly changes as the countryside, gardens and even sidewalks and the central strips of highways come alive with the eye-catching bright red of rhododendron flowers, people cannot help gasping with delight, just like nature photographer Hsu Jen-hsiu.
When Taiwan's rhododendron flowering season arrives, many people go to university campuses to see their thickly planted rhododendrons flowering in an insane blaze of fiery red. Young students scoop up petals from the carpet of fallen blossoms, and use them to write their sweethearts' names in huge characters on the lawns.
Late one spring, botanist Chen Yu-feng was walking along Yushan's Patungkuan trail among billows of rhododendron flowers. The blooms covered the mountains and filled the valleys so densely that there was nowhere he could turn his gaze without seeing them. As he walked along, his body swaying, his breathing heavy and his heart beating like a drum, wherever he looked the flowers bobbed and danced. Thus a fresh and vivid visual experience was suddenly transformed into a rushing and thunderous auditory one: "Up above the sea of clouds in May or June the rhododendrons bloom so raucously!"
The flowers won't disappoint you
Retired National Palace Museum researcher Li Lin-tsan recounted how one year artist Chang Ta-chien asked his opinion of some highly priced potted rhododendrons he had had airfreighted back from Sweden. Li smiled but did not reply, whereupon Chang laughed heartily and said: "I understand! These flowers are not up to the mark-you've stayed in Yunnan, so you know good rhododendrons when you see them!"
The world has over 900 naturally occurring species of rhododendrons, but botanical maps of wild rhododendron distribution are centered on China's Yunnan Province, which has more than 200 species. The further one goes from Yunnan in any direction, the sparser the rhododendron species become. Away to the south in the southern hemisphere, Australia has just one native rhodo-dendron. If we go northwest via the Mediterranean to southern Europe, we find only nine. Following the trail from Yunnan through China's interior, along its coast and through Japan, the numbers also steadily decrease until we reach North America, which has only 20-odd species. But Yunnan's neighbors have no lack of flowers to look at, for Tibet and Sichuan each have over 100 rhodo-dendron species.
The high mountains of Taiwan, which was once joined to the Eurasian landmass by a land bridge, were once a refuge for rhododendrons, and the island has 14 native species distributed at different elevations. Thus the rhododendron flowering season is played out in miniature on the island each year.
Rhododendrons are mainly concentrated in Asia, because when the ice age glaciers invaded the continents of Europe and America, they largely spared Asia, where they did not push so far south. Many plant species were able to gradually retreat to the eastern Himalayan area, which includes southeastern China. This region was not covered by the glaciers, and here the Creator left a garden for the rhododendrons to flower in all their splendor. When the ice retreated and the Earth returned to life, it bred many new species. Just as in the Qing-dynasty satirical novel The Romance of the Mirrored Flowers, where the Fairy of the Hundred Flowers falls asleep and neglects her duty to regulate the times when flowers bloom, the rhododendrons all come out together, seemingly unconcerned as to whether their own flowering season has arrived.
Endless variety
"The low ones trail across the ground, and when they flower you see nothing at all of their stems. The tall ones' vigorous branches vie with trees for height, and their little flowers bloom like a sky full of stars. The red ones are like fire, the yellow ones like wax, the white ones like paper, and the purple ones like grapes. . . ; the biggest flowers are as large as peonies, the smallest as tiny as cloves. . . ." This is how Li Lin-tsan, in his Lin-tsan's Journey to the West, describes the rhododendrons which outnumber all the other flowers on Yunnan's Yulong Mountains.
Isn't this like the range of diversity among dogs, that goes from St. Bernards to chihuahuas?
The shrub rhododendrons which greet the spring in containers and on highway dividers throughout Taiwan today have made people used to the sight of "chihuahuas," making it hard to imagine that at the well-known Hsi-tou scenic area in central Taiwan, there are rhododendron trees 20 or 30 meters tall. Pan Fu-jiunn, director of the Taiwan Forestry Research Institute's Division of Biology, has measured a Taiwan rhododendron (Rhodo-dendron formosanum) with a trunk circumference of almost 80 centimeters , which falls little short of the world-record 82 cm of a trunk specimen at the British Museum.
Rhododendron or azalea?
Ben Cao Jing Jizhu (Variorum of Shen Nong's Herbal, compiled in 536 AD by Tao Hongjing of the Northern and Southern Dynasties period) mentions a poisonous rhododendron, saying that when goats eat its leaves they wander about and die. Hence this rhododendron is also called the "wandering goat" plant. On the grasslands of southwest China, the grass is often grazed bare by goats, leaving only unruly thickets of "wandering goats" blooming everywhere.
One thirsty hiker walking from Mt. Ma-po-la-ssu to Mt. Pengchu in Taiwan's Central Mountain Range was surprised to come upon rhododendrons blooming on the grassland above the tree line after a turn in the winding trail. Plucking a handful of blossoms, he ate 20 one after another. Their taste was sweet and pleasant, and his thirst slaked, he slowed down to appreciate the sea of rhododendron flowers. But how could he eat rhododendron without ill effects?
Just which rhododendrons are poisonous, and which are safe for humans to eat? With such an enormous variety of rhododendron species, there are many different opinions on this subject. Rhododendron researcher Yang Shao-pu believes that only the evergreen rhododendrons are poisonous. The Chinese traditionally call large-flowered tree rhododendrons-the "St. Bernards" of the rhododendron world-by the name shinan, to distinguish them from the small-leafed, small-flowered rhododendrons generally known as azaleas in English. However, as botanists have come to understand the rhododendrons better, they have discovered that habit (tree or shrub) and flower size are not such important features. Today rhododendrons are distinguished according to leaf size, and divided into the large-leafed evergreen rhododendrons (shinan in Chinese), and the azaleas whose leaves grow large in spring but are shed in autumn to be replaced by small leaves.
The jumble of diverse features found among rhododendrons makes them baffling even for taxonomists. But in general terms, they can be described as a large genus of flowering woody plants. Naturally occurring species have five-petalled flowers. To adapt to different environments the plants grow in an enormous variety of forms, and produce flowers in many different shapes including funnel, bell and dish shapes; the leaves may be ovate, oval or elongated. Thus rhododendrons present their admirers with a kaleidoscope of different forms.
Green mountains splashed with red
Botanists broadly divide the rhododendrons in to red-flowered and purple-flowered types. No need to hunt for peach blossoms to reflect a rosy hue onto your cheeks-rhododendrons provide enough purple and red for everyone. The artificially cultivated rhododendrons in the cities come in shades ranging from deep to pale and in hues from purple or brick red to pink or white, like a jumbled rainbow. In Taiwan's mountain forests, rhododendrons of the same species vie with each other in different shades of red. The Alishan rhododendron (R. ellipticum), also known as the Xi Shi flower after a beautiful lady of Chinese legend, ranges in color from a frosty white to a vivid red as bright as any peach or plum flower. Taiwan's endemic Oldham rhododendron (R. oldhamii) is no less splendid, appearing in a spectrum from deep to pale orange.
Although the red rhododendrons are eye-catching, not every member of the genus Rhododendron is among them. In Yunnan there is a "blue sky" rhododendron which is "the most beautiful blue in the world," as rhododendron researcher Yang Shao-pu says with as much conviction as Zhao Chengde of the Tang dynasty, who admired white rhododendrons, with their skin of ice and bones of jade, for staying aloof from the competition of gaudy colors between other mountain flowers. And who can deny them their subjective opinions? But don't feel left out: in the mountains of southeast Asia and of Taiwan, there are limpid yellow epiphytic rhododendrons still waiting for someone to lavish them with praise.
As big as a basketball
But after all, many flowers are red. For botanists who have seen wild flowers of every description, the rhododendron's color is not the most important reason why it appears to be "on fire."
Most rhododendrons grow as shrubs, with closely packed branches. New shoots almost all bear flowers at their tips, and the blooms are often so dense that one can barely see the green of the leaves behind them. Furthermore, most rhododendrons' flowers are larger than peach, plum or cherry blossoms, so they produce more striking and resplendent blooms.
The Ming-dynasty travelogue Xu Xiake Youji describes Yunnan's most splendid flowering trees as its camellias and rhododendrons. The camellias bore flowers as big as bowls, and the rhododendrons bore flowers as big as camellia flowers. Flowers as big as bowls are nothing so very unusual, but some rhododendron trees bear as many as 10 to 20 on every inflorescence, bunched tightly together in an enormous ball like a bride's bouquet. One botanist illustrates their size by cupping his hands in the air and saying: "They're as big as a basketball!" This description may lack poetry, but it is certainly to the point. Recently, on a huge rhododendron tree growing in the well-manured soil of an English garden, someone was amazed to find at least 50 flowers on an inflorescence, in a splendid globe which would make a basketball look puny.
Any plant which can germinate and grow in soils with a pH value less than 5 can be called an acid-loving plant. But some rhododendrons can even thrive in soils approaching pH 3. Thus in soils that are so acid that other plants cannot grow, they conquer a secure territory. Moreover, rhododendron seeds are light and numerous. Even a slight breeze will carry them through the air, and when they fall on barren soil, mountain cliffs and summits, or patches of charred land left by fire, they quickly colonize this empty land as vigorous "pioneer species."
Places where other plants cannot survive belong to the rhododendron. Just as botanists describe, on the most inhospitable mountaintops, amid powerful winds, biting frosts and heavy snow, on dry, infertile soil where conditions are too harsh even for the Formosan cypress and Hinoki cypress which otherwise grow to such huge size, Taiwan's Yu-shan rhododendron (R. pseudochrys-anthum) shrugs off the unrelenting onslaught of the elements and grows in thick clumps everywhere, changing the color of the mountain forests and grassland. In the Yu-long Mountains of Yunnan, one of the things that gave Li Lin-tsan the greatest pleasure was to see the rhododendrons blooming in the snow, so that "the mountains were half white snow and half rhododendrons."
The rhododendrons planted in modern cities have also shown their ability to adapt to the city environment. In rainy, hilly Taipei, despite the dusty air, rhododendrons bloom vigorously. This prompted Taipei residents to vote them their city flower-a choice seen as ironic by botanists, who felt the rhododendron had won this distinction only by being able to resist pollution.
The rhododendrons, which live by their ability to endure adverse conditions, flower from the cities at the foot of the mountains right up to the limit of woody plant growth at 4000 meters. Their flowering season also differs from low to high elevations, starting in the plains and rolling ever higher up the mountains. The higher the elevation, the later the flowers bloom, and spring flowering species are also followed by summer flowering ones. On the 18th day of the 9th lunar month, in a cold dark forest where all the spring birds had fallen silent, Mei Yao-chen (1002-1060) of the Northern Song dynasty was delighted to chance upon rhododendron flowers with a color more splendid than the red of a dawn sky. Taiwan's most widely distributed rhododendron, the Oldham rhododendron, actually flowers all year round.
In Taiwan the spring follows the rhododendron flowers up the mountains, and hikers tag along behind. The flowering season starts in the plains in February and March. In late March the flowers dye Mt. Ali red, and in April they climb up to 2000 meters. In May and June, seemingly overnight the ridges of Taiwan's great mountains at 3000 meters explode into flower, convincing some botanists of the existence of a Creator. Pan Fu-jiunn, director of the Taiwan Forestry Research Institute's Division of Biology, muses that the sea of rhododendron flowers on Mt. Hehuan must be the result of a fairy accidentally spilling rhododendron seeds from her brocaded bag, thus making a gift to humanity of this beautiful scene.
A product of the East, refined in the West
Having survived the tremendous changes of the ice ages, the whole rhododendron genus seems to have become ever more vigorous. TFRI assistant research fellow Lu Sheng-you, who has spent many years working on the detailed taxonomy of rhododendrons, calls them some of the "livelier" members of the plant kingdom. The path of life on Earth is like a flowing river-some species get caught in a sinkhole and disappear for ever, while others float stably along and barely change in form for hundreds of millions of years. But the rhododendrons are swept by a rushing torrent, ever changing, so excitedly caught up in the evolutionary process that they are unable to settle down. This is one reason why humans find them so difficult to figure out.
In the eyes of horticulturists, the rhododendrons are plants which are easy to breed. The reason rhododendrons may "combine five colors in a single bloom" is because they can easily hybridize. If the flowering seasons of two species overlap, and there is a suitable insect vector, then cross-fertilization may easily take place between them. But such "indiscretions" are sure to come out when a single rhododendron plant bears flowers of different colors and patterns. Today, with the help of a "human vector," the number of hybrid rhododendron cultivars has quickly grown into the tens of thousands.
One Japanese writer observes that although the rhododendron is "a product of the Orient," its long flowering period and its suitability for lowland commercial cultivation mean that it can be grown in other areas and enjoyed by more people.
In fact, the place where horticulturists believe the rhododendron has been developed to best effect is an "outlying area," far from the center of the rhododendron world in Yunnan. By the early 20th century, the British, who had already collected over 300 rhododendron species from around the world, stumbled on a treasure house of rhododendrons on the Yunnan-Guizhou plateau. This find attracted even more plant hunters, so that in the short space of a decade, over 600 new species found their way into European rhododendron nurseries.
The garden history book The Garden-A Celebration says that the rhododendron initiated a "revolution" in British gardening. To grow shade-loving species of rhododendron, British gardeners had to introduce large trees into their gardens as "parasols" to shield them from full sunlight, and this promoted the development of the "woodland garden." Today rhododendrons can be seen everywhere in many European and American countries, but Britain, whose damp climate is especially favorable to rhododendrons' growth, seems to have become their "second home," where one can enjoy many rhododendrons of different provenance all together in a single garden.
One writer, after visiting many English gardens with all kinds of rhododendrons, even said: "Without rhododendrons, English gardens would hardly have any color."
From prized exotic to weed?
A surfeit of rhododendrons has even angered some Britons. The plants have spread quietly but inexorably into gardens and open ground, so much so that some people call them weeds. American author Sara Stein writes in her Noah's Garden that if Americans look along their own street, they will find a yew and a rhododendron in every garden. In the USA, many native plants have been excluded from the artificial Noah's Ark of the garden.
Whether in the East or the West, people see the spread of non-native rhododendron species as a headache. In Taiwan, the double-petalled rhododendrons grown in containers are Western hybrids from countries such as Belgium; those planted in gardens and under sidewalk trees are Hirato or other cultivars from Japan. Even the rhododendrons around the memorial to anti-Japanese resistance at Wushe are Hirato rhododendrons. Although most garden cultivars' parentage does include the long-flowering, widespread Indian azalea (R. simsii), which is a native species in China, Pan Fu-jiunn believes: "People in Taiwan don't understand rhododendrons."
But associate professor Wang Li-chih of National Taiwan University's forestry department is not worried that introduced rhododendrons will become dominant species and squeeze out other plants. The hybrid rhododendron cultivars, in which particular features are developed for commercial purposes, actually have weaker constitutions than naturally occurring varieties, and rhododendrons generally choose land "abandoned" by other species: on fertile ground, rhododendron cannot necessarily compete with other plants in the wild. However tough rhododendrons may be, they still have their limits. Looking around Europe, in Britain one can often see rhododendrons blooming in spring, but in Switzerland, with its extremely cold and dry winter climate, one sees no trace of them. Rather, what plant lovers should be worried about is human development invading native rhododendrons' habitats. For example, the entire wild population of Taiwan's endemic Kanehira azalea (R. kanehirai), was drowned when the Feitsui Reservoir was filled with water, making it Taiwan's only native rhododendron of which no natural population exists.
No matter what the effects may be of the myriad ways in which breeders cross native rhododendrons, what is important, between the passing fashions for this or that cultivar, is whether people can stop to consider whether it is necessary to go on changing nature with such complete abandon. For, as comments Lu Sheng-you, who was the first to propose a program to rehabilitate the Kanehira azalea, even without human interference rhododendrons have never stopped evolving, and at some time in the future, perhaps several centuries from now, people will view them differently, both taxonomically and in other ways.
From wild to domesticated
People's attitudes towards rhododendrons have also gone through many changes. Leafing through some of the many publications on rhododendrons in mainland China and Taiwan today, one sees such headings as "Yushan rhododendron takes prize in British flower show," or "Most rhododendron cultivars in West grown on Chinese rootstocks." The mainland Chinese Chinese Rhododendrons even calls the rhododendron the "king of flowers," implying that it has surpassed the peony to take pride of place in international popularity.
If we look back at the humorous Classic of Flowers by Chang Yi of the Southern Song dynasty, he classes flowers according to nine ranks and nine degrees of rank. He awards the shinan the third degree of the seventh rank, while the azaleas lag behind with the second degree of the eighth rank. This is very different from the view of horticulturists in mainland China and Taiwan today.
At this point, the red rhododendron again becomes a scapegoat. Some say that the rhodo-dendron's close association with the cuckoo, which according to legend drips blood from its beak as it sings, represents tragedy. Some say the bright red rhododendron flowers are showy without substance, like frivolous youth, and no equal of the purity and self-respect of the plum flower. Hence the rhododendron does not make the grade as a pedigree flower, and is rarely planted in courtyards or brought inside the home
From a literary perspective, one professor of Chinese says that to be considered first-class, flowers must be both colorful and lightly scented-to lack either of these attributes will not do. But most rhododendrons have no scent, nor do they have the elegance of the narcissus. They are not at all fussy: they grow wherever they are planted. Although the rhododendrons have been prized by some literati, the number of works, and their quality, falls far short of those devoted to the peony and narcissus, which are accorded the status of spirits. A researcher in the National Palace Museum's calligraphy and paintings department also says that the rhododendron flower is an "unusual subject," rarely painted by Chinese artists.
Some people have wanted to completely "repackage" the rhododendron. The author of Dian Hai Yu Heng Zhi blundered into a forest of flowering rhododendrons in the Dian Mountains of Yunnan, and "passed ten leagues through the woods, the flowers tens of feet high crowding in like red clouds on either side. It was like entering a purple heaven, and we went the whole day before we emerged." Like Tao Yuanming after he took a jaunt around the Peach Flower Spring (in the original Shangri-La story, from the 4th century AD), his conclusion was that people should transplant rhododendrons, and grow them from cuttings, and prune and train them, and plant them in terraced rows of beds or containers. Then the rhododendron would surely be just as good as the peony or the narcissus!
Judging from the rhododendron's unprecedented popularity today, with thousands upon thousands of artificial cultivars, and with rhododendrons being grown wherever there are people, it looks as if his wish has come true. In fact, the rhododendron has long been grown in gardens and in pots. Possibly the earliest story of rhododendron cultivation in China is set in the freewheeling days of the Zhen'guan reign (627-649) of the Tang dynasty. A penniless monk arrives at a monastery in southern China from faraway Mt. Tiantai in Zhejiang, asking for lodging. He is dressed in a simple robe, and carries with him a crock in which he has planted a red rhododendron, which he transplants at Helin Temple in Runzhou. It is said that every year in late spring when the rhododendron flowered, a fairy clothed in red would appear and play beneath it.
Who needs gardens to see the spring?
But are rhododendrons growing in the wild really so unsuited to Chinese people's cultural palate?
In the cool days of March, people strolling at their leisure will go up the mountain slopes or along the banks of little streams where rhododendrons bloom, enjoying the pleasures the poet described: "Who needs famous gardens to see the beauty of spring? The mountain flowers along your way will not disappoint you!"
At Lijiang in Yunnan, Li Lin-tsan met a few boy goatherds coming down from the Yulong Mountains, holding in their hands rhododendron branches with white blossoms as pure as ice or jade.
In his essay collection Rong Zhai Suibi, Hong Mai (1123-1202) of the Southern Song describes how south of the Yangtze below Nanjing, rhododendrons grow all over the mountains almost as thick as a jungle. Apart from sticking a sprig or two into the ends of their shoulder poles, the wood-cutters bundle the branches up for firewood.
The rhododendron's relationship with humans is so natural. It is an ambrosian thirst quencher for mountain travelers; when processed it can be used to treat wounds, and its roots, leaves and flowers all have medicinal properties; it provides firewood for woodcutters, and sprigs of flowers for goatherds to play with; it is the bright flower on a sister's head in a popular song.
Rhododendrons in the wild
In the deserted mountains, rivers flow and flowers bloom. Rhododendrons produce gorgeous blossoms for their own pleasure, when they please and how they please. Looking at the rhododendron, which only knows how to bloom with all its heart and soul, the best thing people can do is to remember that "when your soul is unburdened, nothing can trouble your mind." What does it matter whether the rhododendron can ascend the international stage as the king of flowers? If one is not "burdened" with such ambitions, surely the rhododendrons are beautiful however they bloom!
The late folk singer Li Shuang-tze discovered his own youth amidst the blooming rhododendrons of Mt. Tatun. This is how he sang his song of youth, I'll Walk With You Out Of Tatun:
I'll walk with you out of Tatun, see how high it is, how high.
Just as the mountain's high, so high, so our hearts are staunch and brave
Back to our old playground, flowers bloom all over the mountain.
That rhododendron's you, that rhodo-dendron's me.
That rhododendron's me, that rhodo-dendron's you.
We'll be together ever more, blooming all over our old playground. . . ."
p.87
"This is God's garden-how could mere mortals' gardens compare?" Along the trail to the northern peak of Mt. Hehuan, thousands of Taiwan's endemic Rhododendron rubropilosum bob and dance in the breeze. R. rubropilosum loves sunlight, and often grows together with evergreen maiden grass and Yushan cane. Without it, what other color would there be in Taiwan's mountains at medium and high elevations?
p.88
Rhododendrons are mostly colored shades of red. Only one of Taiwan's native species-Rhododendron kawakamii, which grows as an epiphyte on large trees-bears yellow flowers. Our picture shows a yellow-flowering rhododendron in the Birmingham Botanical Gardens in England, originally collected from China by the British plant
collector Ernest Wilson.
(photo by Vincent Chang)
p.89
On the island of Taiwan, who is the fairest of them all? Rhododendron ellipticum is also known the Xi Shi flower, after a legendary beauty. Its long, oval leaves hang down like little parasols, topped by balls of flowers. Girls dreaming of marriage ask: Are those bridal bouquets?
p.91
In the damp, rainy Taipei area, rhododendrons flower in a blaze of glory. Their flowering gives young people on university campuses a new way to express their love. (photo by Diago Chiu)
p.92
Many of the evergreen rhododendrons can grow into tall trees. A single flower bud may produce as many as 10 or 20 blossoms. Rhododendron formosanus prefers cold conditions and is therefore rarely seen on Taiwan's plains, but above 600 meters on Mt. Ali and Mt. Chatien it blossoms magnificently. From April or May, when the flowering season in the plains is over, why not go up the mountains to see the great rhododendron trees?
p.93
Rhododendrons have a thick growth of branches, and when every branch is covered with dense blossoms one can hardly see the green leaves. No wonder some have said, on seeing the brick-red blooms: "It's on fire!" (photo by Diago Chiu)
p.94
Rhododendrons come into blossom from the plains all the way up to 4000 meters as the spring moves up the mountains, and different species flower almost all year round. Our picture shows the "aboriginal" rhododendron of Taiwan's highest mountains, Rhododendron pseudochrys-anthum. By autumn, its flower buds are already formed (opposite; photo by Liao Tung-kun). The following year, when the plants are watered by melting snow and spring rain, the buds swell rapidly, and in May and June, as air temperatures rise, they open into bell-shaped blossoms. A single bud may contain up to 10 flowers, which appear like bridal bouquets up and down the mountainsides.
p.96
When rhododendrons bloom on the banks of streams or by ponds, their reflection in the water makes for an even more enchanting scene. (photo by Diago Chiu)
In the damp, rainy Taipei area, rhododendrons flower in a blaze of glory . Their flowering gives young people on university campuses a new way to express their love. （photo by Diago Chiu）
Many of the evergreen rhododendrons can grow into tall trees. A single f lower bud may produce as many as 10 or 20 blossoms. Rhododendron formosanus prefers cold conditions and is therefore rarely seen on Taiwan's plains, but above 600 meters on Mt. Ali and Mt. Chatien it blossoms magnificently. From April or May, when the flowering season in the plain s is over, why not go up the mountains to see the great rhododendron trees?
Rhododendrons have a thick growth of branches, and when every branch is covered with dense blossoms one can hardly see the green leaves. No wonder some have said, on seeing the brick-red blooms: "It's on fire!" （photo by Diago Chiu）
Rhododendrons come into blossom from the plains all the way up to 4000 meters as the spring moves up the mountains, and different species flower almost all year round. Our picture shows the "aboriginal" rhododendron of Taiwan's highest mountains, Rhododendron pseudochrys-anthum. By autumn, its flower buds are already formed (opposite; photo b y Liao Tung-kun). The following year, when the plants are watered by melting snow and spring rain, the buds swell rapidly, and in May and Jun e, as air temperatures rise, they open into bell-shaped blossoms. A single bud may contain up to 10 flowers, which appear like bridal bouque ts up and down the mountainsides.
When rhododendrons bloom on the banks of streams or by ponds, their reflection in the water makes for an even more enchanting scene. （photo by Diago Chiu）
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