Botany in a modified world - Is every plant worthy to know?

A Quaker philosophy that I try to hold near to me is that every person has an inner light.   Maybe a similar thought can be applied to every plant:  the idea that every plant (or every organism, regardless of taxonomic group) can tell a worthy story.

We live in a world of modified landscapes.  I recall one of my mentors telling me that there are no truly pristine place left on earth.  All habitats are modified.  Another memorable experience was walking through the "old growth" portion of Cook Forest with a naturalist visiting from Germany who kept commenting that the forest was over-browsed by deer, and questioned how the forest could be accurately referred to as "old growth".  Even the least disturbed places on earth have been modified by humans; habitats aren't what they were before there were 7 billion people on earth.  Global climate change will touch every "pristine" place.

I wandered through a local nursery last week, looking at the "native" trees - catalpa, oaks, and even witch hazel.  Although these trees represent native species, the ones at the nursery were still varieties that had been chosen by humans interested in particular traits.  I suspect these garden center/nursery trees harbor different genes from a population genetic standpoint than the original wild populations of the same species 300 years ago.  If I buy one of those trees (which I was thinking of doing) will I be continuing the trend of diluting the locally-adapted gene pools?

I find it overwhelming.  The cup seems more than half empty when my mind tries to grasp the extent that humans have modified the world, and especially when I glimpse of my own role in the process.  It's like catching a view of yourself in the back of a spoon- distorted and ugly; my overuse of resources, my failure to curb and set greater limits on my children's consumer temptations, and so on and so on.

Looking at things from the half-full standpoint is so important.  In a previous post I commented about learning from unredeeming places.  I think I am an unredeeming person at times, but I'm going to go with the belief that all plants and all people, even those most modified & even mass produced by humans, like corn, are still fascinating, and worthy of study, if for no other reason than the love of learning / the joy of gaining basic, unapplied knowledge.

There are two genera of plants that I want to share today.  Each genus has both a native and a horticultural relative that occur in my area.  In both cases, I learned the horticultural variety before I ever discovered the native species, and I think I appreciated the native ones even more because I was already familiar with a close relative.

Impatiens

Walmart sells an abundance of these flowers. They might be hybrids or just highly bred individual species - I really don't know.  They are so commercialized that it is easy to look down one's nose at their artificial colors and their universal commonness.  And yes, they are even a bit invasive; I recall seeing the garden varieties that had snuck into the rainforest in Costa Rica while I was part of an OTS class, but they are interesting plants even despite being so modified by humans.  I especially love to turn the flowers over - the garden varieties often have spectacularly long nectar spurs.

There are two native species in my neck of the woods. Superficially and from a distance, the garden Impatiens look quite different from the native ones, but close up and with the eye of a botanist, some similarities stand out - especially the fantastic nectar spurs.

Impatiens pallida

Impatiens capensis

Spiraea

Most of the year the horticultural varieties (which seem to me to be mostly hedge bushes) in the Spiraea genus are nondescript - almost invisible in their plain background green color and short shrubby stature. Here's a picture of a Spiraea bush blooming near my house. The flowering bush pictured below is probably native to Asia and really doesn't "belong" in Pennsylvania.

Yesterday we kayaked at a state park in Pennsylvania, and lo and behold I was introduced to a native member of this genus. This pretty native Spiraea grows in wet areas.

Spiraea tomentosa

If I were a plant, I fear I would probably be a modified garden variety, mass-produced and similar to so many other plants found in the aisles of Walmart garden center - I am a native want-to-be but I have given in too much to the seduction of modern technology and mass culture. Furthermore, my genes are most certainly transplanted to Pennsylvania through a long history of human colonization.

Maybe the cup isn't quite so empty though, maybe even modified people, modified landscapes and modified plants have a story to tell.  And while it is admittedly a stretch, I think that knowing the modified plants might help us appreciate the native ones even more.  I suppose you could also argue for the potential for restoration of these modified places and things.

Maybe I am justifying and thinking way way too much & maybe I should just simply enjoy every plant and every person without a lot of deep thought!!