Tag Archives: nature

Fragrant flower or invasive thug?

We’d been walking for twenty minutes or so with plenty to see: a wooded garden with a drift of early snowdrops scattered across the grass like confetti, the winter sunshine percolating through the trees creating mosaics of light and shade, running water a constant companion. Then suddenly, something new captured my attention but I couldn’t immediately identify what it was. You know how it is when you hear a fragment of a well-known piece of music but can’t place it; only this wasn’t music. Gradually, though, I became conscious of a low-level odour permeating the air by the path. I am sure there had been other smells as we walked, such as rotting leaves and wet mud, but this was entirely unexpected: a sweet, fragrant odour that stopped me in my tracks.

It was the day after Christmas and we decided to walk the riverside path linking the village of Uplyme in the far east of Devon to the seaside town of Lyme Regis just across the border in Dorset. This was the most rural section of the walk. One side of the path was bordered by skeletal trees and a damp, woodland bank. Hart’s tongue ferns grew prolifically, their leaves spilling out across the soil, octopus-like. On the other side of the path, the ground fell away steeply to the river Lym.

But the ferns did not have it all their own way and a small section of the bank was occupied instead by heart-shaped, bright green, fleshy leaves. Floating above the leaves, on thick stems, were the flowers, daisy-like brushes of pale petals gathered together and swept upwards. Each slightly hairy stem carried several of these chunky flower heads. This was winter heliotrope (Petasites fragrans).

I bent down to smell the flowers and was greeted by a sweet, cloying fragrance that spoke to me of almonds and resurrected distant memories of amaretto liqueur; this was the source of my arresting sensory experience. Although I smelt almonds, it turns out that there is some disagreement about the exact odour of winter heliotrope. Perhaps it is the complexity of the smell; there was indeed an additional hard edge to the `fragrance that I couldn’t place, and some say the flowers smell of almonds, others vanilla, some even licorice and I began to doubt my response.

Back home, I looked for another patch of the plant to test my nose. Finding the plant wasn’t a problem; there is a lot of winter heliotrope about at present in south Devon. Much of it, however, grows by busy roads and it took me a while to find some that I could smell safely. I finally struck lucky by the coast path above the beach at South Milton Sands. Here I found drifts of winter heliotrope, some in shade and some in sunshine on the cliff top. The flower heads trembled in the breeze and the late afternoon sun highlighted the delicate colours of the flowers, some pale lilac, others tinged dark pink. Sometimes, the sea breeze carried traces of that low level woodland odour.

But what was the smell of the flowers in this seaside location? I took first sniff and smelt almonds again so my earlier response had been correct. Next Hazel tried without knowing my experience and she said lilac. It would be interesting to know what others sense when they smell winter heliotrope.

Many people, however, have an entirely different reaction to winter heliotrope, they hate it! They regard the plant as an introduced, invasive thug, taking over landscapes and eliminating native plants like a triffid destroying everything in its path. I share these concerns, but I have to admit to having a soft spot for winter heliotrope. It brightens up the sparse winter landscape and provides welcome forage for early insects. South Devon, with its mild climate, supports colonies of winter bumblebees and they need forage throughout the season. Winter heliotrope provides some of that food and this morning I watched winter bumblebees foraging on the flowers above the sea in Torquay.

 

winter heliotrope close up
Close up view of winter heliotrope flower head showing an individual flower with five petals and a central stamen and anther with pollen.

 

Cliff top South Milton Sands with winter heliotrope
Drift of winter heliotrope on the cliffs above South Milton Sands showing Thurlestone Arch

 

 

Winter heliotrope and bumblebee queen
Bumblebee Queen on winter heliotrope.
Winter heliotrope and bumblebee worker
Bumblebee worker ( B. terrestris) and pollen on winter heliotrope.

The music of place, the place of nature

Great Hall - with tapestries representing the original departments hanging
The Great Hall at Dartington (image from the web site)

The Northumbrian pipes carried the melody at first but gradually this was passed to the other instruments: a harp, a cello, an accordion, creating an unexpected sound-fusion of classical and folk music. As those first few magical notes echoed around the medieval hall, I knew this would be a special evening and we were treated to a mixture of traditional reels and hornpipes, slow airs and original compositions. Each musician made her own important contribution to the overall effect but my attention was captivated by the flame-haired woman standing at the centre of the stage. She moved gracefully and sensually with the music, driving forward with her virtuoso pipe and fiddle playing and occasionally smiling with pleasure at her fellow players. This was Kathryn Tickell with her new band, The Side, and I was in the Great Hall at Dartington recently for this memorable performance.

This video shows Kathryn Tickell and her former band performing a traditional tune.

I was particularly taken by a tune she played on the fiddle, accompanied by the cello, entitled Yeavering. She explained that she had written this tune in response to Yeavering Bell, a distinctive, broad, double-peaked hill in her home county of Northumberland. Yeavering Bell was once an Iron Age hill fort and the tune was intended to convey some of her feelings about the shape of the hill, the views from the summit and the general impression of space. The video below is of a live performance of Yeavering played on two fiddles by Kathryn Tickell and her band.  There is a bit of background noise but if you want a more pristine version click here.

Everyone will have their own personal reaction to this music but as I listened I found my mind wandering to open spaces and moorland. For me the music also speaks of mysticism, of older times and of danger when the clashing chords occur. Whatever your reaction to her tune, writing a piece of music about a place you love is a wonderful way to express your respect for nature.

……………………………………………………………………..

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Wheat field in Kent (photo by Hazel Strange)

A few days before the concert, we had returned from a week’s holiday in Kent. Coming as we do from damp Devon, the semi-drought in the south east was surprising and the look of the land was more early autumn than high summer. We stayed in a very comfortable converted barn surrounded by gently rolling countryside largely devoted to cereal growth. Fields here are big and hedges sparse and I noticed few flowers.

One of our walks took us across fields from the picture-perfect village of Appledore. Striking out from the village recreation ground we had expected to walk through wheat fields but instead we quickly came to large tracts of vines planted in neat rows and supported by perfectly parallel wire supports. Many of the vines had been planted quite recently and were far from cropping, but later we did see some maturing Chardonnay grapes. These are part of the Gusborne Estate, “England’s most prestigious boutique wine producer”, whatever that means.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
The Gusborne Vineyard (photo by Hazel Strange)

The vines looked very healthy but the whole effect felt sterile and in many parts of the vineyard very little grew between the rows of vines, just a few hardy weeds and the occasional flower, so that we saw few if any insects. At the ends of some of the rows we were surprised to see roses with red or white flowers. Roses are more susceptible to some of the diseases that infect vines and are planted to provide an early warning system for problems in the vineyard.

As I looked along the bleak rows of vines I couldn’t help remembering that a major contributor to the declining bee populations in this country has been the 97%  loss of wild flower meadows since the mid 20th century. Land clothed with a vine monoculture feels like part of this problem.

The vineyard claims, on its web site, to have a “deep respect for nature” and it wouldn’t take much land away from their vines if they planted wild flowers along the field edges. This would massively increase their green credentials, demonstrate respect for nature and it would bring back the bees and other insects. Some of these might be beneficial insects that would suppress vine pests.

…………………………………………………………………..

It doesn’t feel like a very good time for nature and the recent decision of the UK government to reintroduce neonicotinoid insecticides, albeit on a small number of farms, has been deeply depressing. This decision was apparently taken against the advice of their scientific advisers and with some secrecy so that the presence of the agrochemical companies at these crucial meetings might be concealed. People confident of their decisions do not take them behind closed doors so this tells us a lot about the present government.

Another decision that takes little account of nature is the recent proposal to “fast-track” planning applications involving fracking when local councils appear to be acting slowly. The energy secretary, Amber Rudd has said she will “deliver shale” and this commitment has potentially profound environmental implications.

So what do we do to increase respect for nature and to give nature its rightful place alongside humans? It’s a difficult question with no easy answers but I can think of two ways forward. First, we must celebrate nature in all its glories by writing, by photographing and by generally spreading the word wherever possible. Second, we must expose and oppose policies of governments and companies that result in a loss of nature in all its different facets: wildlife, countryside, rivers, beaches etc.

Cogden Beach: a special and unusual Dorset place

A place of sea and sky. A vast shingle beach. A unique wild garden with spectacular flowers. Wave watching, walking, fishing, or just being alone with nature. This is Cogden Beach near Burton Bradstock in West Dorset in the South West of the UK.

It was a fitfully sunny but warm day in late May when I visited Cogden. I parked the car and descended towards the beach between dense stands of gorse, hawthorn and bramble and, once I had escaped the coast road-noise, the air was filled with birdsong. A very visible chaffinch sang from the top of a tree as if to salute the fine weather and the see-saw song of the chiffchaff echoed from the undergrowth.

View from road
The view from the coast road with the beach and the sea

Cogden is a place where you can literally “see for miles” and the distinctive outlines of Portland to the East and Golden Cap to the West were clear. Spread out ahead of me was the broad shingle beach, a yellowish-brown stripe cutting across my field of vision. Beyond the beach lay the sea, its mirror surface a steely blue, disturbed only by wavelets that glittered in the occasional sunshine as though a host of fireflies were dancing.

View east from Cogden
The seaward face of the shingle beach at Cogden looking towards Portland – with people fishing and walking

Eventually, the path flattened out and I made my way on to the shingle beach, hard work on the pea-sized pebbles. The beach near the land is broad and flat and relatively sheltered but eventually it descends steeply to the sea. This seaward face is a harsher environment as the bank is attacked relentlessly by a procession of waves and, in a strong swell, the pebbles move in sympathy, roaring as they go.

Cogden Beach 2
Sea Kale on the landward side of Cogden Beach – looking towards Portland

I’ve walked on the Cogden shingle many times and thought I knew it well, but today I was greeted by an extraordinary vision. Vast tracts of the stony beach bordering the land seemed, when viewed from a distance, to have been splashed with daubs of white paint. Upon closer inspection, I saw that these daubs were huge clumps of Sea Kale, some more than a metre across. The base of each clump comprised many thick, crinkly, grey-green leaves and the centre a prodigious display of flower stems topped with a froth of small white flowers so that each clump had more than a passing resemblance to an oversized cauliflower. By the time winter arrives, this riot of vegetation will have disappeared, leaving a sad scattering of brown leaves and stems but, under the pebbles, the crown will be waiting to produce next spring’s fantastic display.

Cogden Beach 1
Sea Kale flowers (and leaves)

Sea Kale has a long culinary history. The Victorians loved Sea Kale as a vegetable, particularly the young shoots which they forced by covering with pebbles. They picked it almost to extinction and, thanks to their efforts, it is now found only in a handful of places in the UK. There has been a recent resurgence of interest in Sea Kale, stimulated by celebrity chefs, but don’t be tempted to forage in the wild: Sea Kale is protected under the Wildlife and Countryside Act (1981) and anyway seeds and plants are available commercially.

Cogden Beach 3
Drifts of Thrift on Cogden Beach – with Sea Kale on the left of the picture.

 

Thrift at Cogden Beach
Flowers of Thrift (Sea Pink)

The dominant plant at Cogden in spring is Sea Kale, but it is by no means alone on the beach. Parts of the shingle are colonised by large drifts of pink Thrift, its flowers nodding merrily in a light breeze. I also saw Yellow Horned Poppies, just coming in to flower above their frizzy, silvery-green leaves. They will produce a succession of delicate lemon yellow blooms all summer and are named for their long, horn-like seed pods. There were a few clumps of Sea Campion covered with white trumpet-shaped flowers and some large mats of Sea Sandwort decorated with many small, starry, white blooms. The shingle garden is a profusion of flowers at this time of year but by the winter, there will be little to see and the beach will feel almost post-apocalyptic in its desolation.

Yellow Horned Poppy 1
Yellow Horned Poppy growing on the shingle at Cogden Beach

 

Yellow Horned Poppy 2
Close up of a Yellow Horned Poppy flower

 

Sea Campion at Cogden Beach
Sea Campion at Cogden Beach

 

Sea sandwort at Cogden
A dense mat of Sea Sandwort growing on the shingle at Cogden Beach

 

But how do these plants survive and prosper here? Cogden Beach is a harsh environment in all seasons with high winds, salt spray, occasional saline inundation and little or no soil or fresh water. Anyone who has stood on the pebble bank in a strong wind will know what I mean. If they managed to stay upright they will have tasted strong salt on the blustery air.

In fact, the plants are quite choosy about where they grow. The majority of beach plants at Cogden grow above the strandline on the sheltered landward side of the beach. Here there is an extensive tract of stable shingle stretching eastwards and the plants colonise this special environment. The plants that thrive here are also adapted to cope with harsh conditions. Frequently their leaves are fleshy with a waxy coating to prevent loss of water. The roots of some plants extend deeply in to the shingle in search of fresh water; in the case of Sea Kale they can stretch up to two metres. Some plants grow as large mats with extensive root systems to help them adhere in high winds. At the cellular level the plants have multiple mechanisms for dealing with the prevailing high salt.

But it’s not just the plant life that inspires people when they visit Cogden. Whenever I go there I find “beach art”, usually clever constructions made with the flat stones lying around the beach. This time I found a mini “Stonehenge” that must have taken hours to build.

Beach art at Cogden
“Beach Art”

 

 The featured image at the top of this post shows Sea Kale at Cogden looking west towards Golden Cap.  All the pictures were taken on May 26th 2015.  This article features in the July edition of the Marshwood Vale Magazine.

Cogden Beach is at the western end of Chesil Beach and can be accessed either via the South West Coast Path or from the National Trust Car Park on the coast road (B3157) between Burton Bradstock and Abbotsbury. OS grid reference SY 50401 88083, GPS coordinates 50.690271, -2.7035263.

National trust sign at Cogden

Coast path at Cogden

Bees and neonicotinoids – another twist in the tale.

To the agrochemical companies and to many farmers they are essential tools ensuring efficient crop production. To environmentalists and to many bee scientists they are dangerous chemicals contributing to declining bee populations. I am talking, of course, about the neonicotinoid insecticides widely used in this country to control insect pests.

Last week two papers were published on-line in the journal Nature emphasising the dangers posed by these chemicals.

One paper, from a team at Newcastle University, investigated whether honeybees and bumblebees showed any preference (positive or negative) for food containing neonicotinoids; there had been suggestions that bees might avoid neonicotinoid-treated crops in the field. The new lab-based work showed that, when offered a choice, bees preferred to eat sucrose solution (nectar) containing neonicotinoids (imidacloprid or thiamethoxam) rather than control sucrose solution. If this occurs in the field then bees may forage preferentially on crops containing chemicals toxic to their health and inadvertently bring back these toxins to their nests.

The second paper, from scientists at Lund University in Sweden, showed that the neonicotinoid clothianidin, when used in the field, damaged wild bee (bumblebee and solitary bee) populations but was without effect on honeybees. I want to focus on this paper as it is the first controlled study of the effects of a neonicotinoid on honeybees, bumblebees and solitary bees under field conditions. Let’s start by looking at the background.

Three years is a long time in science

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Back in 2012, two studies were published showing that neonicotinoids, even when they didn’t kill bees, could affect bee behaviour in a way that impaired survival of honeybee and bumblebee colonies. The findings showed that these chemicals could contribute to a decline in the numbers of bees and other pollinators. These observations had a big effect on policy and indirectly contributed to the current partial ban on the use of three neonicotinoids in Europe.

One of the papers was from Dave Goulson’s lab, then at Stirling, and found that even at the low doses typically encountered on treated crops in the field, neonicotinoids substantially reduced the number of queens produced by bumblebee colonies, so impairing survival. In Goulson’s study, bumblebees were treated with neonicotinoids in the lab before being allowed to fly freely. This is called a semi-field design and some have suggested that the findings cannot be extrapolated to the real world. The levels of neonicotinoids have also been criticised although these were very carefully thought through.

There was considerable media interest in this work, nicely described in Goulson’s latest book (A Buzz in the Meadow) and the UK Food and Environment Agency (FERA) labs in York hastily set up a preliminary field trial to examine the problem. During the spring and summer of 2012 they studied three fields of oil seed rape, one treated with the neonicotinoid, imidacloprid, another treated with the neonicotinoid, clothianidin and a third untreated field to act as a control. Bumblebee (Bombus terrestris) nests were placed by each field and the occupants were left to fly freely and build their colonies. Extensive analyses were performed including colony growth, the pollen collected by the bees and pesticide residues detected in pollen and nectar.

Superficially this sounds like a rigorous study (free flying bees, compare neonicotinoid-treated with control, plenty of analyses and so on) and it should have given an indication of the effect of neonicotinoids under real-world field conditions. The success of the trial depended on the bees foraging on the crop near their nests so there should have been clothianidin-exposed colonies, imidacloprid-exposed colonies and neonicotinoid-free controls. Unfortunately the bees had other ideas; they largely ignored the flowering oil seed rape by their nests, foraging further away and returning with pollen from crops treated with another neonicotinoid, thiamethoxam. This completely negated the original design so that, in my view, no valid conclusions can be drawn from the study, despite official pronouncements.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The new Swedish study

The FERA work was a valiant but flawed attempt to study the effects of neonicotinoids on bumblebees under field conditions and it was clear that a properly conceived field trial was required. The ambitious new study from Lund University mostly fills that void.

The Lund team selected 16 landscapes surrounding spring-sown oil seed rape fields in different parts of southern Sweden in 2013. The landscapes were divided in to 8 pairs on the basis of the nature of the surrounding countryside and for each pair one was sown with seed treated with the neonicotinoid, clothianidin and the other was sown without neonicotinoid, to act as a control. All seed also contained a fungicide. The neonicotinoid-treated seed also contained a pyrethroid to protect plant roots but there was no evidence that the bees came in to contact with this chemical.

Honeybee hives, bumblebee (Bombus terrestris) colonies and solitary bee (Osmia bicornis) cocoons were placed by each field during the flowering season and their progress was followed. Additionally, the numbers of free flying wild bees (bumblebee and solitary bee) were assessed at each field during the flowering season. Pollen brought back by bees was analysed for flower type and for pesticide residues. The study was large enough to allow statistical analyses to be performed so that valid conclusions could be drawn although the design was unable to detect effects smaller than 20%.

Unlike the FERA study, bees did forage on the oil seed rape adjacent to their colony based on pollen analysis, although this was not an exclusive choice. Bees near treated fields brought back pollen and nectar containing clothianidin whereas those near untreated fields did not. The study design seemed to have been successful and the results were clear:

1. Honeybee hives behaved similarly by treated and untreated fields; there was no effect of the pesticide on colony strength. This is good news for honeybees and for beekeepers and agrees with a 2014 field study from Canada also using clothianidin.

2. Bumblebee colony growth and reproduction were reduced near treated fields. This agrees with earlier semi-field studies so that it is now difficult to avoid the conclusion that agricultural use of neonicotinoids has damaging effects on bumblebees.

3. Whereas solitary bees placed by untreated fields emerged from cocoons and built new nests, this did not occur for cocoons situated near treated fields, possibly because of navigational problems caused by insecticide exposure.

4. The number of free-flying wild bees was reduced by about 50% at the treated fields.

The implications of the new Swedish study

Honeybees were not affected by foraging from a neonicotinoid-treated crop whereas wild bees (bumblebees and solitary bees) suffered reductions in numbers and reproductive ability. Wild bees are, therefore, more sensitive to neonicotinoids than honeybees. This may be because, as James Cresswell at Exeter has shown, honeybees break down neonicotinoids more quickly than bumblebees so that honeybees experience lower doses.

The effect of the neonicotinoid on wild bees is an important result for several reasons. Wild bees are important pollinators, contributing more than half of the “pollination service” required for crops. Crop yield and quality will suffer if these insects are lost so we need to look after them and that may need to include rethinking use of pesticides.

The differential sensitivity of bee types to neonicotinoids shows that environmental risk assessment of new and existing insecticides, typically performed in short term lethal studies on honeybees, is inadequate to determine long term effects on different bee types in the field.

These new data will add to the pressure to extend the European moratorium on the use of three neonicotinoids as seed dressings after the initial two year period ends in December. There is, however, concern that if neonicotinoids are not available then farmers will use older insecticides that may be more dangerous for bees. Perhaps farmers should rethink their use of pesticides and return to a “treat when required” policy rather than using neonicotinoids prophylactically.

When the three neonicotinoids were temporarily banned in 2013, farmers claimed that the yields of crops would be drastically reduced. It is interesting that in the first season when crops were grown from untreated seed in the EU, the yields actually increased. Perhaps we should rethink the use of chemicals more generally in modern farming.

We see our first Ivy Bees!

We picked our way carefully down the steep, stony path to the beach at Mansands, one of the many small coves dotted along the South Devon Coast. At this time of year, the banks lining the path celebrate the season with silky draperies of “Old man’s beard” punctuated by bonfire-sparks of red rose hips and great outbursts of flowering ivy. Pale sunshine coaxed a sickly sweet perfume from the ivy flowers and encouraged a busy profusion of wasps, hoverflies and honeybees but we were hoping to spot another kind of insect. Suddenly my attention was grabbed by a different shape and there it was: marginally longer than a honeybee, its abdomen slender and pointed with clearly defined regular stripes of black and yellow. This sleek insect was an Ivy Bee (Colletes hederae), with a fringe of russet hairs around the thorax and its manner of browsing the ivy flowers in a crescent shape. We saw a few more but they were elusive and moved about quickly. It didn’t matter, we had seen our first Ivy Bees!

Ivy bee on ivy

Ivy bee on ivy flower

I was pretty sure that if there were Ivy Bees about, there must also be nests nearby but the conundrum was how to find them. At other sites in Devon, the nests are said to be near the beach so that seemed a good place to start the search. Ivy Bees generally choose soft friable soils to build the tunnels that form their nests. The beach at Mansands is book-ended by south-facing cliffs containing buff-coloured sandy soil, some shale and some rock. Scrubby grass provides cover in places. This is probably an ideal environment for these bees and, when I looked, I saw many small holes pock-marking the cliffs. Numerous bees were buzzing around and based on their patterning and shape these were probably Ivy Bees. Rather like commuters at a busy rush-hour railway station, some bees were going in and out of the holes and some were moving about, occasionally colliding with others. The nests were distributed along a stretch of cliff about 50 metres wide; there must be thousands of bees here. It seemed too easy but, almost by accident, I had stumbled across a massive Ivy Bee settlement, a truly impressive natural phenomenon.

Detail of Mansands cliffs with ivy bee nests
Close-up of the nest area

 

Mansands cliffs with Ivy Bee nests
Cliffs to the north-east of Mansands. Much of this area is populated by Ivy Bees

When I looked more closely, I noticed that the female bees returning to their nests carried chrome-yellow pollen along their legs, looking as if they were wearing bright yellow lycra cycling shorts. They mostly disappeared in to the holes presumably to unload the pollen to provide food for their larvae. A few returning females rested on blades of grass before entering their nests. As they cleaned themselves, they were bombarded by other bees. These may have been hopeful males but the females showed no interest at all, having probably already mated.

Ivy bee with pollen
Ivy Bee with pollen

 

Ivy bee approaching nest
Competition!

 

Ivy bee resting on grass blade
Female resting before finding her nest

 

Ivy bee at nest
Having a look

 

The Ivy Bee is a relative newcomer to the UK having been first identified on mainland Britain in Dorset in 2001. Since then it has colonised many sites along the south coast and is also spreading north. It is the last solitary bee to emerge, flying between early September and early November. It shows a strong preference for pollen and nectar from ivy although it will feed from other sources. Some call it a mining bee as it digs tunnels for its nests but others refer to it as a plasterer bee from its habit of lining the nest with a protective cellophane-like coating. Although it is a solitary bee in that it does not form cooperative colonies, many Ivy Bees tend to nest in the same area.

There are two other solitary bees that are on the wing around this time and which could be confused with Ivy Bees. The sea aster mining bee (Colletes halophilus) looks very similar but it is confined to salt marshland on the East and South East coasts of the UK. Another look-alike is Colletes succinctus but this is a bee of heather moorland. The Mansands bees are unlikely to be either of these species, especially as there are large banks of ivy in the area.

These Colletes hederae are the last solitary bees I shall see until next spring and I can’t help marvelling at their behaviour. Ivy Bees spend a frantic period of roughly eight weeks on the wing when they have to mate and build nests. They must also lay eggs and provide them with supplies of pollen and nectar, helping to pollinate the ivy along the way. During the next ten months the miraculous transformation of egg to larva to pupa to bee occurs but we don’t see any evidence of this until the new bees emerge next year and the cycle starts again.

We visited Mansands on October 3rd 2014;  the photos were taken by Hazel Strange.

I should like to thank Amelia, who writes two fascinating blogs: A French Garden and Bees in a French Garden, for kindling my interest in solitary bees.

The late December garden

Late December is a paradoxical time with its short days and its gaudy celebrations. Even when the sun shines, the light is low and combined with the early arrival of evening, I feel the urge to hibernate. It’s a low time, suitable for contemplating the past year but not quite time to think about the new one.

Emily Dickinson expresses some of these thoughts in the first few lines of one of her poems:
There’s a certain Slant of light
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –
……………………………………………………………………………………………..

On two rare sunny days at the end of 2013 (December 26 and 31), I went to the Leechwell Garden in Totnes to see how nature was reacting to this low time. The Leechwell Garden was created in 2010 from a derelict plot of land that had been, for many years, an orchard. We can see the Garden clearly from our kitchen; we watched with interest as it took shape and became a community space. It’s now an important part of Totnes life and used by many.

PC260007
The Garden entrance and the pergola

Planting in the Garden has been very carefully planned to provide flower forage for insects throughout their busy time. There is also a Bug House which some solitary bees have used for their overwintering larvae; I await the hatching of the new bees later this year. Most likely there are also bumblebees in the Garden. They would be expected to be safely hibernating at this time of year but in the past week or so I have seen fat bumblebees out and about elsewhere in Devon and in Dorset.

PC260009
The Bug House with an unexpected visitor

On the days I visited the Garden, the sun shone from a cloudless pale blue winter sky. The recent weather had been very mild but also wet and windy so the paths were treacherous. I didn’t expect to see any flowers this late in the year so it was a surprise to find a Prostrate Rosemary with some mauve flowers dotted around the mass of dark green foliage and a few pink blooms on patches of Thrift and Heather.

PC310007
Heather and Thrift

Despite the paucity of flowers there was colour elsewhere if you looked for it, mainly from the fruits of the carefully chosen plants. The wooden pergola, an important feature of the upper garden, is covered with climbing roses and clematis in summer. One of the roses (Francis E Lester) now shows copious sprays of bright red rose hips, some plump and many slightly shrivelled but all retaining their own natural beauty, especially when seen against the clear blue sky. Elsewhere, a Cotoneaster was covered with red berries which will provide welcome food for birds when times get tougher. At the back of one of the borders, I spotted the distinctive white, translucent seed pods of Honesty, hanging like paper lanterns.

PC260006

PC310010

The most striking sights were the yellow fruit suspended from leafless branches of a Crab Apple (malus), rather like baubles on a Christmas tree. Some of the fruit were intact , some were decaying, swollen and split but they all extended the colour range at this time of year.

PC310004

Despite the colours I have picked out, the overall feel of the Garden was monochrome, in tune with this low time of year. It would, however, be a mistake to think that everything is dormant; if you look closely there are clear signs of preparations for the new season. The Crab Apple is covered with buds and I found some catkins on several trees including Silver Birch. They are getting ready for the lengthening of the days and the retreat of the bad weather.

PC310005

How to lose your iPhone – and get it back again

Bowder Stone - geograph.org.uk - 1515039
The Bowder Stone
I must confess that I hadn’t heard of the Bowder Stone until I read the Guardian’s country diary on Monday. It’s the largest free-standing stone in England and it stands rather precariously among other rocks in Borrowdale in the Lake District. The Country Diary article tells a lovely story about a man losing his iPhone under the rock and I would urge you to read the article. To whet your appetite I wrote this:

A stout man had lost his iPhone
In the hole under old Bowder Stone
A passing climber, so deft
Plucked the phone from this cleft
Now the stout man and phone can go home

Thanks to Hazel for drawing my attention to this article.