No More Ash?

Tags

argyll and bute, ash trees fungus, Chalara fraxinea, Forestry Commission, japanese knotweed, rhododendron ponticum

Could ash disappear from the British countryside

The British are known for their love of plants. Our thirst for acquiring the exotic and unusual started in the 18th century when trade routes and the Empire were expanding. Plant hunters would send back plants from across the globe to satisfy the demand from the rich with vast estates. Our temperate climate meant that we were able to grow a wide variety of plants and our relatively small number of native species fuelled an interest in plant collection. As plants were imported in greater numbers they became cheaper to buy, so much so, that plants which only fifty to a hundred years ago were rare and prized could now be found in parks and homes across the country and were no longer the preserve of the rich.

It’s hard to imagine not having rhododendrons, magnolias, acers, rudbeckias and tulips, for instance. The list of plants that we now take for granted but that were introduced here is vast. Britain would certainly be a much less colourful and interesting place horticulturally. However, the import of plants from abroad has brought its problems. Rhododendron ponticum has become the dominant species in many places, out-competing pretty much every other species in the area. And, if that wasn’t enough, it’s also the host for a plant disease which kills trees. In Argyll and Bute, in Scotland, the problem is so bad that it was decided to remove vast areas of the rhododendron at an estimated cost of nearly £10 million.

And of course, there is Japanese knotweed. Introduced by the Victorians because they thought it an attractive and unusual plant, it is wreaking havoc in the countryside. It can reproduce from the tiniest piece of root, grows quickly, creating dense shade and excluding smaller, native species and can push up through tarmac, paving and damage infrastructure. This plant has something of the Triffid about it. Complete eradication would be impossible when it comes to Japanese knotweed, so control is the only option, although the cost of this is estimated to be in the billions.

And now we’re faced with another problem. Chalara fraxinea is a fungus that attacks ash trees. It has been a problem on mainland Europe for a while now, particularly in Poland where it was first discovered in 1992. In Denmark where it was first spotted in 2003 it has killed between 60% and 90% of ash trees. When it was announced last week that the fungus had been found on mature trees in East Anglia alarms bells started to ring. With some 30% of trees in the UK being ash this discovery could have a dreadful impact, not just on our countryside, but also on our parks and urban areas. Reminiscent of the impact Dutch elm disease had in the 1970s, when an estimated 20 million of the 30 million elms in the UK were wiped out.

According to the Forestry Commission, Chalara fraxinea has been found in a number of location in England since February of this year. All of these were on newly planted trees imported from Holland. It does seem strange that when the first imports were found to be contaminated, imports weren’t banned. Apparently, the mechanisms involved with plant biosecurity don’t work as quickly as with, say, animal disease and I can appreciate the levels of bureaucracy involved probably do create an unwieldy infrastructure that cannot respond rapidly to such problems. But, it’s not as if this is a problem that has just been sprung upon us.

Ash and its unusual black buds

As trees go ash isn’t one of my favourites. There was an ash tree at the bottom of a neighbour’s garden which was so close to the fence that most of the tree was in fact in our garden. It wasn’t especially attractive with it’s strangely fat black buds, seed pods that used to shed in vast quantities all over the garden and its ability to self seed so prolifically. It didn’t even redeem itself in autumn with a spectacular show of colour. The leaves turned a bit yellowy, as if the tree was a bit sickly, and then dropped. The tree was removed last year when new people bought the house. I didn’t like the sudden appearance of my neighbours’ houses that had been, up until that point, hidden by the ash tree but I wasn’t sad like I was when our beautiful birch was removed.

Ash, in my opinion, don’t make great garden trees because of their lack of ornamental interest but that doesn’t mean that I want to see them wiped out in our woodlands, hedgerows and parks. They are a native tree that fits with our landscape and climate.  According to the Guardian, 60 of this country’s rarest insects would suffer dramatically from any serious loss of ash trees. They also provide important sites for tree roosting bats such as the Noctule bat and what about the lichens and mosses, so often forgotten about but vital to biodiversity, that would no longer have somewhere to live.

Perhaps the most surprising element of this whole story for me though, is why on earth are we importing sapling ash trees from Holland? Ash is notorious for its ability to self seed and trees generally don’t need much care to get them to a sapling stage. I find it hard to believe we can’t grow them ourselves, here in the UK.

Hopefully, the worst won’t happen. Maybe our native trees will have a natural immunity to the infection, possibly the spread can be controlled. Whatever the outcome for our ash trees this surely must be the time to reflect on how European plant bio-security regulations are not working and perhaps on a more basic level we, as gardeners and growers, need to look a little more closely into where our plants are coming from.

For more information about the ash tree fungus, how to spot the signs and what to do, these websites should help.                                  www.forestry.gov.uk and www.woodlandtrust.org.uk

 

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Wrapping up for Winter

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bulb planting, Narcissi, rose pruning. Rosa 'Shropshire Lad

Flaming blueberry bush

I’ve been running around in a bit of a panic this week trying to get the plot and garden sorted. I saw the forecast for the week ahead, on Sunday night, and no my eyes did not deceive me, there were snow flurries shown on the map. OK they aren’t meant to make it so far as Wales but those icy winds from the Arctic looked like they might. Even the weatherman was warning gardeners they had a 4 day window to prepare for the cold spell. Well I can confirm today that it is more than a little nippy outside. Cold enough for a woolly hat and gloves.

My franticness has been exacerbated by demands on the work front. Projects are starting to take off but rather like buses they seem to have all come along at once. Now I’m not complaining but it has all rather taken me by surprise. Blogging activity has been curtailed, so my apologies if I don’t get round to responding to comments or have a chance to leave them on your own posts. I just need to get organised and manage my time a little better and I’m sure normal activity will resume once again. A 26-hour day might help, too.

The weather this week hasn’t exactly been conducive to spending time in the garden. A dark grey, looming sky has hung over this part of Wales all week. Monday was wet and I started to worry I was never going to get the remainder of my daffs planted. We found a real bargain at a local garden centre a couple of months ago. You could fill a medium-sized plastic flower-pot with Narcissi bulbs for £2.99. Wellyman did see this as a bit of a challenge and quickly devised a strategy to place the bulbs in the pot to maximise the space. By placing the first layer of bulbs facing up and then the next facing down, and so on, he believes we got about ten more bulbs than the lady next to us!! Wellyman does love a good deal and 45 bulbs for £3 certainly fitted that bill. So much so, that we went back for a second visit at the weekend to stock up on some more.

Tuesday was drier so I took the plunge. The soil was a little claggy in places and ideally I wouldn’t have been doing anything with it but my bulbs needed planting. It’s surprising how time consuming bulb planting is and, as I think I may well have mentioned before, it is not one of my favourite gardening tasks. Well worth it come spring though. Wednesday was spent moving any tender plants into pots and bringing them indoors and potting up some of the herbs to overwinter in the cold frame. My succulents are tucked away under cover too as they hate a wet Welsh winter. Chairs and table were cleaned and squeezed into what remaining space I have in my shed. Hose pipes are stashed away protected from any frosts.

Rose pruning

Wellyman helped me tame my climbing rose, ‘Shropshire Lad’. I normally prune roses in late winter but this climber had got a bit unruly this summer and was sprawling all over the place. As I was a little worried that any strong winds would damage the plants I thought I’d tackle it now. It was only meant to get to 8ft at the most but had stems at 10ft and more reaching for the sky. I guess it’s happy where it is. Wellyman is normally a little reticent when it comes to pruning. I’m a bit more gung-ho but, strangely it was hubby that was saying, ‘I think we might as well take that stem out too’. Although it can be a little worrying when you see the pile of plant debris on the ground and you wonder if you’ve been a bit too brutal.

I’ve still got jobs to do, of course. I’ll wait until the frosts have knocked back the herbaceous perennials before I tidy some of them up and I still have some flowers in the beds at the allotment which might well be gone completely by the start of next week. But, on the whole, the garden feels like it has been wrapped up for winter. Now it’s me that needs wrapping up.

Manure Envy and a Leaky Welly

Tags

Charles Dowding, manure, organic matter, wellies

Manure envy

It’s funny what you start to covet when you become a gardener. Rather like when you move into your first home and you get excited about the arrival of the shiny new washing machine. No? Come on . . . . oh OK, that was just me then. But I bet there aren’t many gardeners out there that haven’t got excited at the sight of their own home made compost.

It wasn’t until I got my allotment 2 years ago that the quest for organic matter, and lots of it, really started. The problem I’ve found is there is never enough of the stuff. I have 2 compost heaps which take waste from the garden, the plot and any kitchen waste but it’s not enough by any stretch.

On allotments, manure has always been the organic matter of choice. My allotment site has an area of hard-standing where a local stable owner drops off bags of horse manure. It’s tends to be pretty fresh stuff and deliveries are quickly snapped up, barrowed off to plots where they await a degree of rotting before application. The amount of time allowed for rotting depends on the plot holder, with some of them pretty much putting it on in its raw, and very smelly, state. The whiff sometimes can be pretty overwhelming.

This summer’s awful weather though has meant fewer site visits and manure acquisitions and the spring and summer deliveries had built up so much that manure lady has stopped coming. Some of the pile that had built up had been there for a while and was really good stuff, well-rotted and with no hint, or whiff, of its origin. I spent some time back in September making inroads into the untouched manure. Occasionally I would get deep enough down to discover a seam of rich black matter which was quickly exploited. It was surprising how little of my plot I had managed to mulch, though. So last week, after clearing some more beds of spent crops I headed over to the pile, only to discover it had been raided. There was now only enough left for a few barrow-loads.

An empty manure pile

Persistent rain has turned quite a bit of the plot into a muddy mess and it was a slippery business transporting the manure from the pile to my plot. The grip on my wellies is so worn I was sliding all over the place. It’s also not wise to fill a wheelbarrow too full, especially when your centre of gravity is lower than most. A nifty little turning manoeuvre and the weight of the barrow nearly pulled me over into what was left of the manure pile.

Each trip took me past a fellow plotholder’s personal pile of manure. Hidden under a blue tarpaulin is a heap of truly wondrous stuff. Black, crumbly organic matter. Where he got it from initially and how long it has been there I don’t know, but when I first took on my plot, and was told about the communal manure pile, I was warned under no circumstances should I mistake the manure under the blue sheet for the communal pile. The ‘black gold’ was precious stuff and he would not be happy if anyone else helped themselves to it. And so the coveting began. I’ve got manure envy. The only time I’ve seen stuff look this good was at Charles Dowding’s farm.

Now the communal pile is bare I’ll have to look elsewhere for mulching material. I’m sure deliveries will start again at some point but this will be raw and not well-rotted. There is an alpaca farm about a 15 minute drive away and I have heard that it makes particularly good manure which doesn’t need a long time to rot down before it can be used on the ground, some even say it can be used fairly fresh without damaging plants. The problem is we don’t have a trailer and I don’t want the car to stink of alpaca poo; I fear it is a smell that would be hard to shift.

It’s not just a new source of organic matter that I’m now looking out for. Friday was a sad day as I discovered my wellies of seven years have sprung a leak. Hosing them down after a squelchy visit to the plot, the tell-tale sign of the wet sock inside told me it was time for a new pair. They’ve served me well and will remain in the shed for outdoor paint jobs but their days on the plot are numbered as I search for their replacement.

A Glorious Eden – the final bit

Tags

biome, Eden Project, hempcrete, Lost Gardens of Heligan, Tim Smit

Liquidambars at Eden

So I thought I’d finish my series of posts about my visit to the Eden Project with one about the outdoor space. The biomes are such spectacular creations that they do get most of the attention. The indoor space they provide is essential for any visitor attraction that needs to ride out the vagaries of the British weather but it is rather a shame to see Eden as only a wet weather destination, by-passing the planting outside as you make a bee-line indoors. When we first visited in 2001, only 2 months after the opening of the site, the external landscaping had only just been planted and, admittedly no one had come to see some trees and bushes, it was the rainforest and the world’s biggest conservatories that were the attraction. Over ten years later the outdoor biome as it’s known is coming into its own.

Lavendar balls

The team at Eden have really worked hard with the planting to create something that is beautiful, that inspires and which educates and tells a story along the way. I imagine the scale of planting and landscaping at Eden has brought its own unique problems and challenges. The nature of the bowl within which Eden sits and the sheer size of the site have required bold planting schemes. Thinking in threes, fives and sevens would never have worked here. Long lines of Liquidambars, some of the first trees to be turning at the start of autumn, looked like flames lining the paths. Vast plantings of Cotinus were likewise turning colour. Alongside one path was a large bank of Cornus, still in leaf on our visit, but you could imagine how dramatic the red, yellow and orange stems will look in winter. One slope was a mass of lavender. For our visit at the start of October they had been neatly trimmed into tidy balls which created an arresting sight but the thought of seeing and smelling it in full flower is already making me look at my diary to see if we can visit next summer.

For anyone who grows their own the area devoted to fruit and veg is a delight. I particularly liked the ideas for using height to grow more crops in a small space. There were hops and barley growing to illustrate the brewing industry. I’ve never seen hops grown, as they would be commercially; it’s incredible how tall they get. Although there was a ‘dwarf’ variety, which must have been 6ft-8ft tall which I quite like the idea of trying to grow. Not because I plan to make beer but because I love hops when they’re dried. You can apparently make sachets from the dried hops which you can then put under your pillow to induce restful sleep. Growing hops at the allotment would certainly be something a bit different. They are trialling varieties at Eden to see if there are any that can cope with the damp conditions prevalent in the Cornish climate.

Hemp fence enclosing hemp field

Hemp is an amazing crop and has yet to be fully exploited. It has numerous uses from clothing to the car industry, needs much less chemical input to grow it and it grows well in the UK. Hempcrete which is a mixture of hemp and lime is a more environmentally friendly option to concrete. Hemp is, of course, a variety of Cannabis.  The varieties grown industrially tend to be very fibrous and have low levels of the chemical compounds used for drugs but growing hemp as an agricultural crop requires a licence from the government and infrastructure in place to protect the crop. At Eden, because they are required to have a fence around the crop, they commissioned what I thought was a very stylish barrier using hemp ropes.

One of the areas I loved the most though was the recreation of an American prairie. Although it was fading into autumn the colours of the asters and rudbeckias against the blue sky and the gleaming biome were beautiful. Another reason to visit in summer. The sight of it in full flower must be spectacular. The team at Eden manage it by burning every spring, just as the Americans did when they created the first prairies to attract animals to the plains and make travelling across the vast areas of vegetation easier.

A bank of vegetables next to the cafe

For me, the genius of Eden is that it inspires. It takes difficult subjects such as climate change, peak oil, habitat loss, sustainability and feeding a growing planet and engages and educates. Bring these subjects up at a dinner party and you see eyes glazing over and yawns being stifled. But because at Eden they are practising what they preach you feel more receptive to the ideas. This is not some rich, jet-setting, 5 homes in different countries, pop star telling you to look after the planet. One of the main problems for governments across the world is popping the bubble of apathy that thinking about the environment seems to create. It’s all too easy to feel overwhelmed by the issues we face with regards to the future of the planet and what sort of quality of life future generations will have. It’s easy to think that recycling or giving up a car or growing your own aren’t worth it, can these little changes make any real difference? I think what Eden proves is yes they are worth it and that the snow ball effect of one change and then another combine. Supporting local businesses, becoming waste neutral, supporting prisoners and ex-offenders to learn horticultural skills and with plans to install their own geo-thermal energy plant Eden shows what is possible if we just change the way we think about how we do things.

For me, Tim Smit, the man who rediscovered the Lost Gardens of Heligan and breathed new life into them and who then had the vision to create Eden, is someone who doesn’t get enough credit for his achievements. I certainly wish those in power would pay more attention to the ideas and practices at Eden rather than being driven by the same old ideas to deal with problems. But before this turns into a political rant, and no one wants that on a Friday afternoon, I just want to say if you haven’t been to Eden, go, it’s amazing and if you already have, then go again as it never fails to excite and inspire.

For more information about Eden visit their excellent website. They now run a wide variety of horticulture courses ranging from hour long demonstrations to half and full day sessions. Perfect for combining with a visit if you’re in the area. I can also highly recommend the book Eden by Tim Smit, about the ideas and construction of the project.

A Glorious Eden – Part 2

Tags

biome, buddha's hand lemon, cork farming, Eden Project, Fynbos

The Eden Project has 2 biomes, the tropical biome, which I wrote about in my previous post and the Mediterranean biome. Mediterranean refers to a particular climate rather than just the part of Europe and there are five places on Earth that share this type of climate: California, western Chile, South Africa, parts of southern and south western Australia and of course, the area around the Mediterranean sea. It’s the climate I would most like to live in but for those plants that survive in such places it can be a tough existence. Plants often have to cope with long periods without rain, high temperatures and an intensity of sunlight that would damage many plants. I would highly recommend reading Christina’s ‘My Hesperides Garden ‘ blog about the challenges of gardening and growing her own in her garden in Italy.

The plants that live in this climate though have evolved to cope with the conditions. Grey leaves, foliage packed with essential oils, hairy leaves, leaves that act as water stores, spines and waxy coatings are all ways these plant have adapted to prevent moisture loss and being eaten by animals in search of some much needed water themselves. Often the soil is thin, lacking organic matter and nutrients and yet for centuries countries with Mediterranean climates have been highly productive places for food production. Climate change and pressure on land and the environment though, are already having an impact on these areas and it’s these problems that Eden’s second biome highlights.

Buddha’s Hand Lemon

I thought it was fascinating that the ancient terraced olive groves that southern Europe is famous for support a rich diversity of animal and insect species. However, as economies change and the younger generation move to urban areas to live and work the old ways of food production struggle to continue, threatening theses ways of life, the local environment and species biodiversity.

The intensification of farming and urbanisation has impacted on parts of South Africa too, threatening incredibly important places such as the Fynbos and its mind-boggling 7,000 species of plants, 1,400 of which are rare or endangered.

Heather Jansch’s Cork Sculpture

I particular liked the cork pig sculptures of Heather Jansch highlighting the problem faced by the traditional farms in Portugal where cork is harvested for the wine trade. Screw top caps are replacing corks in the wine bottles we buy. The discovery that cork can taint the wine within the bottle may be important for producing better quality wine but the consequences for a particular habitat and way of life are devastating. The fields where cork oak trees grow are rich habitats for plants and animals. Cork is the bark of the tree and can be harvested without damaging it and so is sustainable. Farmers also keep pigs in the fields that feed on the acorns from the trees. But as demand for cork from the wine trade declines and young people are no longer interested in agriculture as a way to make a living, these amazing habitats are threatened.

The great thing about Eden is that they are putting their money where there mouth is, so to speak, with projects across the world educating and raising awareness. For instance, they send staff out to a college in South Africa where students can study horticultural, eco-tourism and conservation and the students have the opportunity to come over to Eden.

The Buddha’s hand lemon in the photo above was really bizarre with the ‘fingers’ dangling down a little like a hand but perhaps more like an octopus. Although I don’t think ‘octopus lemon’ sounds quite as good as Buddha’s hand lemon. Its peel is quite thick apparently, with only a little flesh and no juice. Used by the Chinese and Japanese to scent their rooms, it can also be used in cooking with the whole fruit being sliced, peel, pith and flesh, and used with fish or scattered in salads. I’m always amazed that there are so many plants out there that can be eaten that I’ve never come across before. We have a huge selection of fruits and vegetables available to us now in the UK either grown here or brought in but there are still more yet to be given the Delia or Jamie celebrity cook treatment so that we all dash off to the supermarket demanding they stock whatever is the next in-thing. Living in rural Wales it’s unlikely I’ll be able to find a Buddha’s hand lemon to try but I wonder if you can buy them at shops in London?

A Glorious Eden – Part 1

Tags

biome, Cornwall, Eden Project, rainforest

I was quite keen on my recent holiday in Cornwall to have a complete break from gardening but the temptation to squeeze in a garden visit was just too hard to resist. The county is rightly famous for its gardens, from the woodland and spring gardens of Caerhays and Glendurgan to those able to grow exotic plants such as Tresco and St. Michael’s Mount. One of my favourite places though is the Eden Project. It’s a place that divides many; I know some who think it is a little too much like a theme park. I love it.

We visited Eden just 2 months after it had opened back in 2001 and it was a truly inspiring sight. The scale of the crater, once a china clay pit and the plant biomes took our breath away. Of course, it was all very new and the landscaping and planting was in its infancy but it was possible to see the genius behind the idea. Now some 11 years later the plants have grown and so too have the ideas and ambitions of the project.

Rainforest Biome

For me the tropical biome is the place I make a beeline for. It really does feel like you’re walking through a rainforest. OK, there are nice paths and no creepy crawlies but for the vast majority of us who will never get the opportunity to visit the real thing this is probably the closest we’ll ever get to the heat, humidity and tropical planting of this important and fascinating habitat.

Unknown beauty

Unlike a botanic garden, Eden doesn’t give all of the plants labels. Any information boards and labels focus on the key species that they want to point out to visitors, plants that we might already have some relationship with through food and drink and that are vital for creating a sustainable future for the planet. Sometimes it would have been nice to be able to find the name for a plant, like the stunner in the photo above but I think it’s a good decision to not have bits of plastic everywhere which I think would detract from the experience.

Education has always been at the core of the Eden Project. A visit isn’t just about admiring some pretty, exotic plants, it’s the opportunity to see coffee, pepper, rice, cashew nuts, bananas, and so much more, growing here in the UK. Humidity can be over 90% in the rainforest biome and my camera was struggling to cope, steaming up every time I took the lens cap came off. So apologies for some of the photos, well I suppose they convey some of the atmosphere.

50 metres up on the Rainforest Lookout

A new introduction to the biome is a lookout suspended 50 metres above the ground giving visitors a bird’s eye view of the rainforest. Neither of us are great with heights but I’d already expressed the intention to climb the 80 steps, that reached out over the giant palms, to the platform suspended from the ceiling. It didn’t look THAT high up as we made our way through tropical island, West African and South American vegetation. As the path climbs up the slopes within the biome the heat and humidity builds. I was still fairly confident as I set off towards the lookout. Wellyman had initially decided to stay behind but it wasn’t long before I was clinging onto the handrail as my legs turned to jelly. There was no denying that the view was spectacular but the swaying of the steps was really disconcerting. It didn’t help that some people were just strolling up there as if they were walking to the post box. By this point Wellyman had joined me, determined to at least try to get out to the main platform. We did, eventually, make it and Wellyman even managed to take photos. I, on the other hand, was a little too busy saying ‘oh my God’ over and over again too really appreciate a) the achievement and b) the scene below. I certainly couldn’t work in the canopy bubble, a contraption used in the rainforests by scientists to study the higher levels of the trees. Here at Eden it is used by staff when they need to prune or check for pests and diseases as it can reach the highest parts of the biome.

Canopy Bubble allows staff to look after the highest parts of the rainforest

It doesn’t feel a sterile place, as local bird and insect life have found their way inside. Some blackbirds had discovered the ripe papayas in a tree and had worked out how to get at the juicy, sweet flesh. And, as we were leaving, I spotted this out of the corner of my eye.

Now I’m no expert but I think it might have been a gecko. Not so sure how it has made its way here but it was still a treat to see.

For more information about the incredible Eden Project.

An Apple Resurgance

Tags

apple orchards, Cornish Gillyflower, Cotehele, National Trust, River Tamar

Cotehele has been on my must visit list for some time now. A Tudor manor house with 19 acres of gardens and woodland perched above the River Tamar in Cornwall it was once owned by the wealthy Edgecumbe family but is now managed by the National Trust.

The gardens were fading into autumn and, as with most Cornish gardens, are probably at their best in spring and early summer when the azaleas and rhododendrons are in full flourish. But it was not so much the gardens that I had come to visit, strange as it may sound because this was more about a bit of fruity pilgrimage.

The River Tamar forms the boundary between the counties of Devon and Cornwall and, once, used to be a hub of food and flower production. The slopes of the valleys down to the river used to be the site of many market gardens and away from the Tamar orchards covered the land. The area benefited from good rainfall, shelter and ground that warmed up quickly in spring and was particularly famous for its fruit with the first strawberries and cherries being especially prized in London. As far back as 1796 Bere Ferrers was known for its pears, cherries and walnuts but it was really the Victorian period up until the 1940s that saw the peak of production.

Much of the produce was taken down stream by steam boats to Plymouth and Devonport but once the railways came to the area the fruit, vegetables and flowers would leave from stations such as Calstock destined for the markets of Borough, Spitalfields and Covent Garden in London.

Once tourists used to travel upstream on boats to gaze at the blossom that clothed the valleys and the daffodils grown for picking for florists in London. Now the valley is no longer so productive. It’s still possible in places to see where the market gardens once were but the land has mainly become overgrown. At Cotehele, however, they are still trying to preserve the heritage of the area. They have some 13 acres of old orchards and in 2007/08 they established the ‘Mother Orchard’, 8 acres of mainly Cornish and Devon varieties of apples, pears and cherries that have become under threat with the grubbing up of orchards. These trees will act as a gene pool, allowing the National Trust to propagate more trees, for sale and planting at other properties. I’m always astounded by the incredible number of apple varieties we used to have that have fallen foul of modern agriculture, supermarket supply chains and us, the buyers, seemingly happy to buy bland but shiny, uniform and blemish-free fruit. Cornish Gillyflower, Colloggett Pippin and  Manaccan Primrose. The names of these forgotten varieties alone make them worth buying.

Lichen covered apple trees

The old orchards with their sprawling, lichen covered branches were beautiful and must be an incredible haven for hundreds of species of insects. The trees looked like they had had a hard time, just as many fruit trees do after this year’s appalling weather. The ‘Mother Orchard’ is in its infancy still but it was such an inspiring place and I loved the apple sculpture giving a modern touch. Wellyman was rather more taken by the solar powered mower that was pootling about keeping the paths trimmed. A clever little creation that knew when its battery was running low and would take itself off to its little ‘kennel’ to get a recharge.

Apple sculpture – Cotehele

At the top of the orchard was a large barn that housed a cider press from the 19th century that had been relocated from Bovey Tracey in Devon, restored and ‘pressed’ into action. It can squeeze 1.5 tonnes of apple pulp in one go making 900 litres of apple juice. There were a few barrels dotted about and Wellyman spotted one that looked like it was in use. Easing the plug out of the barrel we had a sniff and I was nearly floored by the potency of the liquor inside. Wellyman, on the other hand, is made of sterner stuff.

Cotehele’s cider press

The visit was special for another reason. Some of my family, long before I was born used to live in a small Cornish fishing village not far away. When the fishing industry went into decline at the end of the 19th century and work was hard to find many moved to Plymouth to work in the large naval dockyard and that is what my ancestors did. This is an area they would have known well which added another element, knowing that they would have seen this area in its heyday.

Cotehele has another claim to fame and that is the everlasting garland that is created from over 30,000 flowers grown on the estate which is then hung in the hall. Visitors from November can see the garland being constructed by National trust staff and then see it hanging in place from December. I have yet to see this spectacular but hopefully I’ll time my next visit for winter.

For more information on Cotehele (pronounced Coatheel, by the way) take a look at the National Trust’s website.

Seedheads and Skeletons

Tags

Cornwall, Forest of Dean, hogweed, south west coat path, toadflax, valerian

Seedheads of sea thrift

I do love autumn, the mellow colours, misty mornings, bowls of soup, fruity crumbles, woodland walks and the smell of leaf litter but it’s been a struggle this year to embrace the changing seasons. A holiday by the Cornish coast last week went some way towards easing me into October though.

Some glorious weather gave us the opportunity to walk the coastal path where brambles were laden with fruit. In previous, warmer, summers the blackberry crop has ripened much earlier. Two years ago we were bramble picking in mid-August in the Forest of Dean with the whole crop gone a month later; the contrast this year is quite remarkable.

I’m always quite amazed at just what will grow in such an exposed location. At the extremities of the British Isles the north Cornish coast often bears the brunt of Atlantic storms and much of the ground is either rocky with little topsoil or is made up of a significant amount of sand. Summer flowering plants, such as the umbellifers wild angelica and hogweed, had died leaving behind the skeletal forms of stalks and seedheads. Bleached  blond by the sun and salt-laden wind they looked beautiful against the blue sky and golden sand.

Wild carrot seedheads

There were the seedheads of wild carrot curling back in on themselves and those of the common ragwort, rusty brown in their final stage of maturity.

The fresh green of spring and the vibrant pinks, blues and yellows may have been replaced by faded, muted tones of browns and beiges but I rather like these forms left by these wild flowers, such as the papery pom poms of sea thrift.

I was surprised to see some plants still flowering. Valerian in its pink, red and whites forms must have one of the longest flowering periods of all herbaceous perennials. In my own garden, it flowers from June through to the first frosts, generally at some point in October but in the mild maritime climate of Cornwall it flowers earlier and will continue into November.

Toadflax

Primrose yellow is not really a colour I would associate with autumn but this is the prime time to see toadflax, Linaria vulgaris, and its snapdragon/aquilegia hybrid-like flowers. The blooms are designed just like antirrhinums with a bottom lip-like flower part which lowers when an insect such as a bee lands on it, allowing the insect access to the pollen and nectar inside. Bees are attracted to this part of the flower by the deeper yellow, sometimes orange, markings guiding them to where the sugary rewards for pollination are to be found. The back of the flower has a spur just like those found on aquilegias.

In amongst the sand dunes were the seedheads of sea plantain and sea spurge still flowering, relatives of plants we’re more use to seeing in our garden borders and lawn, these varieties have adapted to the coastal conditions. Sea plantain, in fact, is often found growing in salt marshes and is one of few plants that can cope with such high salinity.

Conditions may be tough for plants along the coast but occasionally there was a reminder of one of the great benefits of living on this southern tip of Britain. The lack of hard frosts here and the generally milder air drawn up by the gulf stream allows for a wider range of plants to be grown and whilst many flowers are fading in my own garden they are still blooming profusely here in Cornwall. As the path dipped down out of the prevailing wind we came across this shot of colour from these nasturtiums sprawling across the bank of this little slipway.

I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who wished me a great holiday. It was good to switch off. Of course, it takes a while to get back into gear after a spell away, well it does for me. Once the pile of washing and ironing has diminished I’m looking forward to catching up with all your blogs again.