Mossy trees and furry creatures

Tags

crytogams, Dawyck Botanic Garden, Edinburgh Zoo, koalas at Edinburgh Zoo, pandas at Edinburgh Zoo, Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh

Yew berries – Dawyck Botanic Garden

I think it might be a sign of growing older that time appears to have sped up. I now find myself saying phrases like ‘Where has the time gone?’, ‘Is it 5 o’ clock/ Friday/ October already?’ Things creep up on me now. I was horrified to see Christmas crackers and puddings in the supermarket the other day not because of frustration with the over-commercialisation of the festive season, but rather the realisation that Christmas isn’t actually THAT far away. Oh, and I woke up the other day in a cold sweat when it dawned on me that I have less than a month to finish the book.

Dawyck Botanic Garden

September merged into October for me whilst on a trip to Scotland. We loved Edinburgh so much last year that we thought we’d go again. It was a fantastic break catching up with a friend, eating great food and taking in the stunning scenery. I do wish someone would invent teleportation though. Any journey which involves the M6 is a slog, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being stuck in a traffic jam. If it’s possible I try to plan a stop-off to beak up long journeys. Not only are they a way of seeing somewhere which I might not otherwise, they are essential for restoring the blood flow to my legs after a prolonged period in the car. Dawyck Botanic Garden is an hour or so south of Edinburgh, so it seemed the perfect place to stop for a walk and the obligatory cup of tea. Dawyck, a few miles outside the town of Biggar (stop the sniggering at the back), is an arboretum under the management of the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh. The collection, covering over 60 acres, was once part of the Dawyck Estate where, over 300 years, 3 successive families have planted and maintained a globally significant collection of trees.

It was the fresh clean air which I noticed first. Now, it’s not as if I live in a polluted city choked by traffic exhaust fumes. Okay, sometimes the air in my village is a tad potent thanks to the silage the farmer has spread, but generally I’m lucky to be able to take deep breaths of clean Welsh air. There was something very noticeable though about Dawyck, it had a zing to the air that you get in alpine villages. It’s the sort of place that makes you feel as if you’ve had an expensive facial when you haven’t. Then you notice the trees. My, what trees! They were like green skyscrapers shooting up towards the clouds; there’s something awe-inspiring about such gigantic trees. I get a similar feeling when I’m on a beach and I’m faced with the vastness of the sky, clouds and sea; this is nature in all its glory and it’s fabulous. If you love trees you’ll love it here. The location, with the mountains, craggy hillsides and gushing streams, is unlike the other arboretums I have visited, which tend to have been created in more gently undulating landscapes. Thanks to the stunning surroundings Dawyck has some fabulous vistas. My favourite was looking down from the Beech Walk towards the privately owned house with its classic Scottish Baronial architecture and Trahenna Hill looming over it.

Dawyck House

The Veitches were the first family to live at Dawyck, in the castle which predated the current house, and they started the tradition of tree planting. The Naesmyths who followed continued the legacy. This was a family with a serious interest in plant hunting and especially trees. Sir James (1704-1779) trained under the tutelage of the famous botanist Carl Linnaeus, and his grandson Sir John Murray discovered a new species of beech growing on the estate with an unusual columnar habit of growth; it subsequently became known as the Dawyck Beech. Sir John also funded the trips of plant hunters such as William Lobb and David Douglas. The Douglas Trail within the arboretum includes the famous firs named after him which are believed to be among the first to have been grown in the UK. At the turn of the twentieth century, the Balfour family became the new owners. Fred Balfour added to the arboretum including trees from North America and Asia. He too financed plant collectors in return for seed. He wasn’t just a tree lover though, under his ownership azaleas and rhododendrons, meconopsis and daffodils were planted to add interest to the gardens throughout the year. The Balfours still live in Dawyck House, but they gifted the arboretum to the Botanic Gardens in 1979.

Lichen covered trees at Dawyck Botanic Garden

In the clear unpolluted air lichens thrive. There were some trees which were so covered in lichen it was hard to tell what they were underneath the dripping, Gandalf-like lichen beards. A whole area is devoted to crytogams. Despite 4 years of studying horticulture I’d never heard of the word before – it means a plant which reproduces by spores instead of flowers and seeds, and includes mosses, fungi, liverworts, ferns and algae. The damp conditions make it perfect for mosses and the understory to the trees was a mossy equivalent of a shag pile carpet, deep, springy and verdant green.

The Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh are a world leader in the study of cryptogams. As part of this research a Scots Pine, planted from seed at Dawyck in the 1840s and blown down in the 1990s, is being studied as it decays to see which fungi and organisms make it their home. I find these elements of horticulture, the less glamorous side of it, fascinating. It’s easy and obvious why we adore flowers but I love that there are people out there who make it their life’s work to study the plants that so often go unnoticed.

And so to the furry creatures mentioned in the title. It wasn’t part of the plan to visit Edinburgh Zoo but the rain came down and we didn’t fancy wandering around an art gallery. I did wonder if we’d made the right decision as we squelched our way to the entrance but I’m so glad we chose animals over Whistler and Monet. Of course, the pandas have grabbed a huge amount of attention since their arrival at the zoo. The will-there-won’t-there be the patter of tiny panda paws has disappointingly come to nothing. It did mean however that the panda enclosure was open to visitors once again. I have learnt from years of zoo visits not to get my hopes up about seeing any particular creature. I have stood in front of many an enclosure searching high and low for the advertised creature only to shuffle off still none the wiser as to what a slow loris looks like in the fur. We timed our visit to the panda enclosure perfectly. We arrived to be told by the keeper that the male panda had been lying on a plinth for 4 hours. Within seconds it got up, strolled along the back wall, then walked straight towards us so it was within inches of the fence, before disappearing inside and out of view. For the briefest of moments we got to see one of the most iconic creatures on the planet and closer than I had ever imagined.

Another creature, an animal I have wanted to see ever since I can remember, was even more obliging. Edinburgh Zoo is the only place in the UK where you can see koalas and it was such a treat to see them. Considering koalas spend 23 out of 24 hours a day asleep we were lucky to see to see one of them eating, stretching and climbing, albeit all done at a measured koala pace. It must have exhausted itself though because it too joined its fellow koalas for a snooze, but I’m not sure it can get any cuter than a sleeping koala resting its head on a paw.

P.s. Thanks to Wellyman for his fab photos.

Arboreal delights

Tags

Batsford Arboretum, Kennet and Avon canal, Magnolia campbellii 'Darjeeling', Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh

Magnolia campbellii ‘Darjeeling’

I don’t know if it’s this year’s fantastic spring weather we’ve had, glorious blue skies, warm sunshine and very little rain or wind (well up until this last weekend anyway), that has made me notice the trees so much more than before but boy have they looked spectacular. Autumn tends to be the season for trees, with us salivating over their autumnal colour as the chlorophyll production wanes and stunning oranges, reds and yellows light up the countryside. But what has struck me over recent weeks is the amount of colour generated by trees in spring .

We walked along the Kennet and Avon canal from Bradford on Avon towards Bath on Good Friday. Looking across at the hillsides it was remarkable to me to see purples, pinks and oranges alongside the zingy vibrant green I would normally associate with trees at this time of year. I don’t know why I haven’t really paid this much attention before. Then on Easter Monday we visited Batsford Arboretum in the Cotswolds. Again I was blown away by the colour. It wasn’t just the fading daffodils and hellebores or the emerging herbaceous perennials, the trees were more than holding their own. Blossom is the most obvious way trees announce themselves in spring and this has been one of the best years I can remember for such an impressive display of frothy tree flowers. The combination of such a hot summer last year, when wood ripened and flower buds formed, with the lack of rain and wind have meant trees have been dripping in blossom. My own crab apple tree couldn’t have any more flowers on it if it wanted. It looks like a giant candy floss at the end of my garden. It’s also one huge humming mass of bees feasting on pollen.

Spring acer colour

What I have noticed more than ever this year are the unfurling leaves of new growth. At Batsford, the collection of acers in the sunlight looked as good as any autumnal colour. There were beeches with their reddish-brown corrugated leaves and the pink-tinged horse chestnut leaves. I particularly loved the leaves of this Japanese horse chestnut bursting out like Beaker from The Muppets.

Japanese horse chestnut

Batsford has a spectacular collection of magnolias, from the dainty flowers of Magnolia stellata to the huge candy pink blooms of Magnolia campbellii ‘Darjeeling’. Magnolias can be amazing but lets face it they are at the mercy of the weather more than most plants. One badly timed frost and those pristine blooms can be turned to brown mush overnight, and that is it for another a year – the whole purpose of planting the tree in the first place ruined. Then along comes a spring with no frost and magnolias sing with their intriguing flowers. Magnolias are ancient plants, fossilised remains have been dated to 95 million years ago and there is something about them which means I can imagine them in a time when the planet was packed with dense vegetation and dinosaurs wandered around.

Malus spectabilis

Malus spectabilis really did live up to its name and smelt divinely of citrus. Perhaps a bit on the big size for the average garden though.

Batsford itself has a fascinating history. One of the largest private collections of trees in the UK covering 55 acres it is now part of a trust which looks to educate and promote understanding of trees. Batsford works with the Royal Botanic Gardens at Edinburgh to conserve conifers and is home to a collection of endangered Chilean conifers. They also work with Kew and other gardens to grow species on the Red Data List conserving threatened species for the future.

The landscaping that forms the present day setting of the arboretum was set out by Algernon Bertram Freeman- Mitford, grandfather to the controversial Mitford sisters, in the late 19th century. It was his friendships with 3 directors of Kew Botanic Gardens and his time spent in China and Japan working for the Foreign Office which were the inspirations for the beginnings of the arboretum. Today you can still get a real sense of the naturalistic style he wanted to create when he swept away the more formal landscaped grounds, and the artificial stream, statuary, Japanese rest house and clumps of bamboo all point to a passion for the Far East.

Algernon’s son inherited Batsford in 1916 and spent the First Word War living there with his family until the running costs of such a large estate became too much. The new owner Gilbert Alan Hamilton Wills, who became Lord Dulverton, was a keen plantsman but it was his son, Frederick who, on inheriting the estate in 1956, set about establishing an arboretum and planted many of the trees we can see today.

It’s quite a privilege to have enough disposable income to indulge your horticultural passion and create something on such a scale as Batsford but I’m very much glad they did.

For more information on visiting Batsford Arboretum.

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

 

My Crab Apple

Tags

crab apple tree, crab apples

It has been quite a while since I posted about my dear crab apple tree. Summer is always a quiet time for it, anyway. Once the blossom fades in May it blends into the background providing some shade for the end of the garden and a dark green backdrop for other plants to shine.

It looked as good as ever this spring, covered in blossom and, with the introduction of an espalier eating apple into the garden, I was hopeful it would be a pollinator for it. But, whilst my new apple was happpily pollianted and produced our first tasty home-grown fruit, my crab apple has not faired so well. In June, July and August we had so much rain, day after day, that I rarely venutred out into the garden. If I did, it was for a hurried trip to the compost bin and to the shed to drop off some recycling. Then, one day it stopped raining and I finally got a chance to potter and whilst doing a spot of weeding I had a look at the crab. Oh, it didn’t look well. My first thought was not another tree to have to get cut down. We’re not doing well with trees so far, an ornamental cherry lost to canker, an acer lost to something undiagnosed, a silver birch that was just too big. I was beginning to wonder if I had some unwanted propensity for killing trees.

The leaves looked sickly, and I could barely see any fruit. I did wonder if it was the weather. The tree looks a little better now for some sun, but I can only describe it as looking a bit mangy; it’s had a hard year.

It should be dripping in fruit and they should be ripening nicely now but the weather has put paid to that. When it came into blossom at the end of April we suffered a cold snap. Late frosts and heavy rain meant there were no insects about to pollinate. This will certainly explain the lack of fruits and is a worrying example of what will happen in the future if we don’t protect our pollinating insects, such as honey bees. Those fruits that have appeared are much smaller than normal and scabby and I can only imagine this has been caused by the miserable summer.

For me, it means fewer lovely red apples to gaze at whilst I do the washing up this autumn and winter, but more importantly, the blackbirds and starlings that strip the tree of fruit from December into March, will be short of food this winter. I fear it will be a hard year for the birds and small mammals dependent on trees and hedgerows for their food. Hips, haws and berries are all scarce, certainly here, this autumn.

So, whilst the tree doesn’t look at its best and I’ll have to buy more bird food to make sure they don’t go hungry this winter, it is a relief that it just seems to be the weather that has caused my crab apple to look so bad this year, I don’t think I could face another visit from a tree surgeon.

My Crab Apple Tree

Tags

blossom, crab apple tree, nectar and pollen source, westonbirt arboretum

I wrote a post last year, after a visit to Westonbirt Arboretum, about my love of trees and the fact that I was known to occasionally hug a tree, a lovely experience which I can definitely recommend. I then received a post from Flighty at Flight Plot pointing me in the direction of a blog celebrating 2011’s Tree Year. The blog asked people to choose a tree they saw on a regular basis and follow how it changed through the seasons, posting about it. I thought it was such a great idea that I chose the crab apple at the end of my garden, my only disappointment was that I had come to the idea so late in the year.

A couple of people suggested I continue posting into 2012 about my tree and reading Laura’s post over at the Patiopatch about the Wych Elms she is following, I thought it was about time I devoted a post to my beautiful tree.

My Crab Apple Tree

For me, my crab apple is at it’s most stunning right now. Like a huge candy floss it stands in the left hand corner of my back garden covered in blossom. Although once open the flowers are white, the buds are rose pink and I think one of my most favourite things in nature. For weeks now I have been anticipating the show of blossom. There was the morning when I was stood at the kitchen sink and squinting could see the first signs of the pink buds emerging, finally culminating in the first white flowers opening with perfect timing for the Easter weekend. These white flowers hold a secret, they smell. I never really thought of blossom as having a scent. It was only really the first spring living in this house that I came across this delightful surprise. OK it’s not a powerful, heady scent like sweet peas, or stocks but it is for me the most perfect of spring scents, smelling like freshly washed clothes that have been blowing on the washing line. Ones that haven’t been drowned in the overpowering fragrances used by detergent companies that is. My crab apple certainly doesn’t smell of Japanese Fragrant Lily or Himalayan Lemongrass Orchid or any other bizarre sounding clothes wash.

A bee seeking out nectar

The tree is proving popular with the insect visitors to the garden, too. Stand next to the tree at the moment and there is a hum, a buzz, a noise of busily foraging bees lapping up the nectar and groaning under the weight of laden pollen sacs. I always get a sense of satisfaction to know that even my small garden can play an important part in the environment.

The crab apple is quite a hardy customer. It might look all delicate and frothy at the moment but it has had to put up quite a bit over the last week with plunging temperatures, freaky hail storms, torrential rain and howling winds. I went to bed last night thinking the predicted heavy rain and gales would strip the tree of it’s flowers but no, there is a little bit of white confetti appearing on the path but the tree looks great still.

Tightly packed pink blossom buds

The birds which have used the tree all winter, whether feeding on the crab apples or grubs and insects hidden in the branches or visiting the feeders we have put there, are still using the tree. Blackbirds, in particular, use the tree as a perch before flying down to the nearby bird bath.

It’s time for me to savour the tree and it’s blossom as much as possible. Another couple of weeks and the blossom will have faded with bright apple green leaves unfurling and taking over.

This crab apple was already here when we moved into the house, we’re not sure what variety it is, possibly ‘Evereste’ because it holds onto it’s apples for such a long period and although we have completely changed the rest of the garden it is such an important feature. If I could recommend one tree for even the smallest of gardens it would be a crab apple. They provide such interest through the year.

The Year of the Tree – My Crab Apple in December

Tags

blossom, crab apple tree, crab apples, winter

Winter Crab Apple

To celebrate the Year of the Tree I have been posting about my crab apple, following it changing through the seasons, November Post and October Post. Well, as it’s December I thought I’d post about my crab apple in winter.

The stormy weather of the last couple of weeks has removed the leaves but the tree is anything but bare. It is still covered in glorious red crab apples, which provide some welcome colour on dull, dreary December days. Some branches are so laden they are bent over under the weight of the fruit.

Some apples have fallen to the ground, making a carpet under the tree, others lie squished on the path. I noticed the other day whilst filling the bird feeder a strong smell of fermenting apples in the air.

Blackbirds and starlings are flocking to the tree now the weather is getting colder, perching in the branches and pecking at the crab apples. It’s good to know that whilst I can appreciate the beauty of the tree it is also providing a vital source of food for these birds.

Blackbird in my Crab Apple Tree last winter

Underneath the tree I have a Brunnera that is in flower, a sign of the strangely mild autumn. We’ve had two light frosts but these haven’t been enough to kill off the beautiful forget-me-not like flowers.

Bird splattered Brunnera flowering in December

If I look closely enough on the branches I can see next years flower buds and leaf buds protected from the harsh winter weather we may get by the bud scales. It’s a nice thought to know that these little buds will open into beautiful blossom and green leaves next spring and the cycle will start once more.

The Year of the Tree – My Crab Apple in November

Tags

bird feeders, blackbirds, crab apple tree, goldfinches, robin., The Year of the Tree, wren

Last month I wrote a post about the blog The Tree Year, which encourages people across the world to blog about a tree that is important to them.  I chose to write about my crab apple tree. When I blogged in October about my tree the weather was beautiful and we were basking in an Indian summer. Today is completely different. It really feels like winter is only round the corner. The change in weather means our tree is now a home for bird feeders. We have one feeder filled with a sunflower seed mix and another filled with Nyjer seeds which are particularly tasty to goldfinches.

My Crab Apple Tree in November

I love the tree at this time of year. It becomes this great meeting point for so many birds. Starlings, sparrows, blue tits and great tits, chaffinches and robins. I spotted the first goldfinches of the year yesterday. Occasionally I will catch a glimpse of a wren flitting through the branches. Blackbirds love the tree, mainly because of the crab apples, they don’t seem bothered by the apples’ tartness. The harsh winters of the the last 3 years have meant I have been treated to some unusual visitors to the tree. Bramblings, fieldfares, redstarts, blackcaps and long-tailed tits have all kept me interested whilst I stare out over a snow-covered garden from my seat in the kitchen, clutching my warm cup of tea. I’ll venture outside in the hope I can get close enough to take some good photos but invariably the birds are spooked and fly off. Sometimes I’ll hole up in the shed doorway hoping the birds won’t notice me and will come to the feeders. Sometimes they do but generally I get cold and so I return indoors to watch them through the binoculars. I haven’t got the patience to be a wildlife photographer.

Blue Tit in Crab Apple Tree

The leaves are now starting to change colour and some are starting to fall from the tree but the apples, glowing red, will remain on the tree well into January.

Sparrows coming in for a feed

We had to have a birch tree removed from our garden last year and 2 trees in neighbours’ gardens have been removed this year, so I really appreciate my crab apple, the height and shape it creates, the perch and feeding point for a myriad of birds and the interest it provides in my garden throughout the seasons.