I wonder how I can make you, dear readers, believe that I actually write my texts myself. After all, the following lines could also have been written by some kind of artificial intelligence. Easy. All I have to do is call up a relevant website and say a few key words over the phone. Something like: “Column, 8,000 to 10,000 characters, topic: garden in Berlin, time of year: February.” Zack! The artificial intelligence is already pouring a fluid text onto the paper. Do not you believe? Then have a look here:
“Winter isn’t over in Berlin yet, but that doesn’t mean gardeners can’t start preparing for spring. Although the ground can still be frozen in February, there are many ways to whip the garden into shape. One of the best ways to start gardening in February is with planning. Use this time to decide what to plant this year. A good way to keep things organized is to create a gardening journal or to-do list. So you always have an eye on what still needs to be done…” And so on and so on.
Creepy, right? These lines are certainly not a literary masterpiece, but they are not completely illegible or wrong either. I’m afraid they would easily be enough for a German essay in high school. The AI can now do things for which people usually go to university: it writes presentations, homework, law exams, pleas, scientific papers, reports and columns. Writers will probably soon be just as superfluous as landline telephones and VHS cassettes. Juli Zeh, Robert Seetaler, Prince Harry, they can all pack up. Although – the latter probably didn’t write his book himself anyway, but so be it.
Arboretum Park Härle is a beautiful private park
In view of this development, I get scared and anxious. When machines take over thinking in the future, what will become of us humans? What are we doing all day? Do we have anything worthwhile to do in the future? We are easy beings. Just a few years ago, for example, I could reverse park perfectly. Ratzfat I maneuvered into every parking space. Without parking assistance! When I borrowed my uncle’s old Dacia the other day, I really worked up a sweat. Suddenly I couldn’t park without a beep. You get used to electronics quickly. Probably not thinking too.
When my husband, the computer science professor, first told me about the new software, I wasn’t really listening. “The next sow to be driven through the village by science,” I thought. Oh man. This “faster, higher, further” drives me crazy. “Would you have preferred to have lived 100 years ago?” asks the scientist. “Maybe not,” I reply, “but in I don’t want to live to be 100 years old either.” Well, I shouldn’t bother you further with my fear of progress, after all this is a garden column. And one (and I swear it!) that is flowing right out of my head at this very moment.
Loyal souls: Even if there is no snow, the bells paint the ground white.Michael Schöne / IMAGO
It’s like this: I’m sitting in the train and rushing from Bonn to Berlin. It’s already dark outside, I’m exhausted and the day was long. But fantastic! I visited a beautiful private garden: the Arboretum Park Härle in Bonn-Oberkassel. You have to see this place! The garden, laid out more than 150 years ago, is five hectares in size and is located on a sunny hillside at the foot of the Siebengebirge. For more than two decades, the arboretum has been in the care of a foundation and its horticultural director, Michael Dreisvogt, showed my two colleagues and I around the grounds. “We have more than 1400 different trees and shrubs here,” he said, pointing with justifiable pride to a sequoia that towered monstrously into the sky.
Each snowdrop variety has its own unique characteristics
Planted according to the English model, the unusual trees form the backdrop for all sorts of rare perennials and ornamental shrubs. The gravel creaked under our winter shoes as we walked the winding paths. “It doesn’t get any nicer in England either,” I thought, and was magically drawn in by the scent of a blooming daphne, whose twigs swayed gently back and forth in the cold winter air. I had gone to Bonn to report on the arboretum’s extensive collection of snowdrops. Dreisvogt has planted several hundred in recent years, and now in February they are in full bloom. We stopped in front of a snowdrop tuff.
“There is probably no one in the world who does not like snowdrops,” the master gardener summed up the current euphoria about the little plants. “Roses have thorns, dahlias have ugly foliage, other plants smell funny. But snowdrops are just perfect.” I learned that there are several thousand varieties of Galanthus worldwide. The name derives from the Greek – “gála” means milk, “ánthos” means flower. “It takes a few years for the onions to become established,” explained Dreisvogt, “but eventually they will multiply on their own.”
Off into the ground: If you want to have snowdrops in your garden next winter, you should plant them now.Döhrn / IMAGO
Anyone who is enthusiastic about snowdrops sharpens their eye for detail. Some flowers are double, others are not. Some look like little bells, have green spots on the petals or a yellow pistil. ‘Look,’ said Dreisvogt, carefully raising the head of a flower so we could see its interior. “This is the ‘Ailwyn’ variety, it looks like a double rose, doesn’t it?” Yes, I thought so too.
The hype surrounding the little plants has increased through social media
Within a very short time I had completely succumbed to the magic of the small early bloomers. What a working day! The low February sun shone over the park as if someone had sprinkled golden icing over it, the cameraman enthusiastically lost himself in detailed shots, and I fell on my knees every few meters in front of the next little bell, shocked. ‘If you want to plant galanthus in your garden,’ said Dreisvogt, ‘then put a handful of tomato or autumn lawn fertilizer in the soil in the summer. The potassium makes the onions strong and firm.”
Snowdrops can now be planted in early spring or even in summer as a mere bulb. And to coincide with the planting season, “snowdrop days” are currently taking place nationwide. This is where die-hard breeders, collectors, experts and enthusiasts meet and swap plants and knowledge. Due to social media, the hype surrounding the little plants has increased significantly in recent years, which is unfortunately also reflected in the price. “The most expensive snowdrop ever sold was auctioned last year for 2222 euros,” Dreisvogt told me. “One bulb!” “Whoa,” I replied. “Of course, if the onion dies, that’s bad.” But if it doubles, that’s not a bad return.” We laughed.
The arboretum opens its gates to visitors every few weeks. Admission is free, but the garden manager and his staff are happy to receive a donation. So if you happen to be traveling in the west of our republic, dear readers, be sure to plan a detour to Bonn-Oberkassel. It is worth it .. We filmed until the afternoon, and as we said goodbye, Dreisvogt put a small pot in my hand. “It’s the ‘S’Arnott’ variety,” he said, “it grows extra tall and smells like honey.”
Well, a few hours later, I’m sitting on the train, the potty at my feet, and I’m typing this text. The day passes me by like the dark landscape outside the window. i feel light Snowdrops make you happy. After all, they are a promise of nature for the coming spring. You give hope. But something else warms my chest. The certainty that no artificial intelligence in the world could ever have written this text. Fortunately.
Sabine place has been working as a television journalist for ZDF for more than 20 years. There she regularly produces reports on the subject of nature, gardens, ecology and sustainability for the “Platz im Garten” section in the “Morgenmagazin”. In October 2021 her book “In the garden: Between tuber and compost lies the whole of life”.