Mossy trees and furry creatures

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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.

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Arboreal delights

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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.

Distinctly Autumnal

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Loch Lomond National Park, National Museum of Scotland roof garden, red squirrels, Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh, Trossachs

Most of us crave the familiar. The security and safety it brings, the sense of belonging and rootedness to a place. There is something very comforting about walking a path that is so well trodden you feel you know every twist and turn, every little patch of hedgerow, every tree. Then there are times when all you want to do is get away, when the familiarity of the daily routine has become claustrophobic and a change of scene is needed.

Wellyman and I had both got to that point several weeks ago but he had an exam to revise for which meant any get-away had to be put on hold. Wellyman is studying for an Open University degree. It’s a part-time course and he’s fitting it in around his job. It’s not the quickest way to get a degree, taking six years in total and it has been a huge commitment but he’s getting there with only 2 years left now. I’m immensely proud of the work he’s putting in but there is a collective sigh of relief when he finishes each year and there’s a three month break before the next one starts. So as soon as his exam was over last week we were off for a short break to Edinburgh.

When we left Wales it still felt like summer, mild and sunny, but it was distinctly autumnal by the time we’d reached Edinburgh. Leaves were swirling around in the wind coming in from the North Sea which had an icy chill that I remember from my days as a student in Newcastle. I’m not really a city girl, too much traffic and concrete make me feel uncomfortable but Edinburgh is such a green city and I was surprised at how at home I felt there.

The glasshouse at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh

We were staying in a leafy suburb which turned out to be only a ten minute walk away from the Royal Botanic Gardens. I’d love to claim that it was planned that way but it was a happy coincidence. The gardens themselves are free, you just pay to enter the glasshouses. The 70 acres of grounds felt much more like a park with a stunning collection of trees. What an amazing resource to have on your doorstep for free. The glasshouses were impressive and so toasty and warm it was tempting just to stay in there all day. I wonder if, as the weather gets colder, the staff engineer all sorts of ways to make sure they can work inside, in the warmth?

Cyperus papyrus against the backdrop of the glasshouse roof.

Later that day we were seven floors up on the rooftop garden of the National Museum of Scotland taking in the impressive view across the skyline of the city. I’m not sure how many of the tourists noticed the planting around the edge of the viewing point, the castle being the main draw, but it was an interesting addition showcasing plants from Scottish habitats with coastal plants, alpines and a planter featuring species adapted to boggy conditions. If I was a plant though I think I’d rather be one of those in the warmth of the botanic garden’s glasshouses.

The cutest red squirrel

On our last day the countryside outside the city was calling. Only an hour or so north was the eastern edge of the Loch Lomond National Park and the range of hills known as the Trossachs. The scenery was stunning with the burnt umber colour of dying bracken spreading across the hillsides, the yellowing leaves of birch and beech and tumbling waterfalls. The highlight of the day and an unexpected treat was seeing red squirrels. The visitor book attested to the fact that they were there but after sitting in the hide for 20 minutes or so we started to think it wasn’t going to be our day. Then Wellyman whispered ‘SQUIRREL’ and there it was scampering around collecting nuts and burying them. They are such delightful creatures which can’t fail to make you smile especially when all you can see is their big bushy tail sticking out of a bird feeder. It’s only the second time I have seen red squirrels, our native species which is under threat from the non-native greys.

The Trossachs

I have never seen trees covered in so much lichen. They were dripping in them. And there were fungi dotting the forest floor and clinging to the sides of trees, species we had never seen before. At one point we came across a mossy area covered in clumps of black. They looked like piles of cow dung but on closer inspection we could see they were fungi. It was a stunning place, somewhere which left us wanting more.

Black fungus which looked like piles of dung.

Long journeys are fun when you’re travelling to your holiday destination, the return however is nearly always a bind. Misty and murky weather, heavy traffic and hour upon hour of motorway provide too much time for thinking with that post-holiday clarity that makes you question where you’re going and what you’re doing. Holidays provide a change that we’re craving, change can be unsettling though and I guess that’s why many of us have post-break blues. It’s generally not long before fanciful ideas of packing up and travelling or moving somewhere else get lost in the routine of daily life. But time away can make us see the familiar in a positive way too. We were only away for 4 days but the seasonal difference was quite distinct on our return. The garden we left had been clinging on to summer remarkably well. Looking out of the kitchen window this morning it is clearly autumn. The Virginia creeper is turning red, as is the liquidambar. The thin strap-like leaves of Anemanthele lessoniana have tinges of orange and there is a soggy look of decay to the herbaceous perennials, but still no frost means Verbena bonariensis and cosmos are providing shots of colour. These changes wouldn’t have been nearly so distinct if I had been staring at the garden every day. Seeing the seasonal evolution in the garden has also triggered a sense of urgency to tackle my list of jobs before my inclination for hibernation takes over completely. Now if the weather would oblige with some dry days that would be much appreciated.