Dear Readers, you might remember that St Pancras and Islington Cemetery has been something of a haven during this past few years, and it’s still one of my very favourite places to walk. Today was a chilly but bright day, with a low, blinding sun, and the hedges and treetops were full of very uncooperative birds. Here, for your delectation, is a photo of a male chaffinch’s backside. You’re welcome.

Not all the birds are quite so shy, though. Close to the chapel/public toilets, there is always a family of rose-ringed parakeets. I suspect that they have already picked out their nesting holes for the season, and seemed to be spending their time picking the buds off of the plane trees, and possibly chewing off twigs for their nests. They look so exotic with their bright-green feathers against the blue sky! They certainly brightened up my day.

The winter heliotrope is in flower – it’s said to have a strong, vanilla-like scent, and if I inhaled very deeply there was something in the air. It’s closely related to the native Butterbur, but is fragrant. It’s taken over a whole area close to the chapel.

And right alongside is the memorial to William French, who lost his life trying to save a dog in Highgate Ponds in 1896. Someone always loving decorates the grave, and I thought the dog was looking particularly fine today, which it should do as apparently it survived. You can read the whole story on the Studied Monuments site here – it’s by Bob Davenport, and I highly recommend it. I shall be looking around for some of Bob’s other featured monuments when I next visit the cemetery.

And finally, I wanted to include a shot of the sun through the yew trees on Harwood’s Path. As usual I was teased by the goldcrests, who are always twittering around here but are never still enough, or close enough, to photograph. Still, it’s always lovely to hear them going about their business. Can spring be far off now? Let’s hope not.

Well Dear Readers, first of all congratulations to Mike from Alittlebitoutoffocus, and Fran and Bobby Freelove, who went the distance and managed to complete the whole of the Christmas Quiz, which was quite a marathon this year! Mike got a magnificent score of 43 out of 48, but the winners, with an astonishing 46 out of 48, were Fran and Bobby Freelove, who are clearly champions this year, though Mike, Claire, Sharon, Rosalind and Anne have all given them a bit of a run for their money during the year. And a special mention to Sharon, who got 100% for her answers on French domestic animals on Day Three. Thanks to everyone who’s taken part during the year, and normal Quiz service will be resumed on Sunday next week.  

Here are the answers to the Christmas Quiz.

Question One

The Photo is of The Partridge Family, a popular show when I was growing up, not least because of David Cassidy, a real teen idol.

Question Two

Turtle doves are called turtle doves because of their call, which sounds a bit like ‘tur, tur’.

Question Three

Photo 1) is C, a Bleue du Nord cow

Photo 2) is A, a Baudet de Poitou donkey

Photo 3) is B, a Percheron horse.

Question Four

1) C) – a red-winged blackbird

2) D) – a great-tailed grackle

3) A) – a common raven

4) B) – a ring ouzel

Question Five

1) Goldcrest

2) Golden Eagle

3) Golden Oriole

4) Goldeneye

5) Golden Plover

Question Six

1)D) Greylag goose

2) B) Brent goose

3) A) Pink-footed goose

4) E) Barnacle goose

5) F) Greater white-fronted goose

6) C) Bar-headed goose

The bar-headed goose is the high-flyer, seen flying over the Himalayas from a plane window.

Question Seven

1) B) – The Black swan is from Australasia (though sometimes now seen in ‘the wild’, having escaped from a wildfowl collection.

2) C) – Black-necked swans are found in South America

3) A) – Trumpeter swans are found in North America (including the chilly parts of Canada) (which is most of it :-))

Question Eight

1) E) Bindweed

2) B) Birdsfoot trefoil

3) A) Cowslip

4) D) Cuckooflower

5) F) Greater stitchwort

6) C) Wood anemone

Question Nine

1) B) – Ladies’ Bonnets is another name for Aquilegia/Columbine

2) E) – Ladies Smock is another name for Cuckooflower

3) A) – Lady’s Locket is another name for Solomon’s Seal

4) F) – The Lady’s Slipper orchid

5) D) – Lady’s Mantle is another name for Alchemilla mollis

6) C) – This is the Autumn Lady’s Tresses orchid.

Question Ten

1) Ring-tailed lemur

2) Red Squirrel

3) Vervet Monkey

4) Springbok

5) Humpbacked whale

6) Verraux’s Sifaka

Question Eleven

1) C) Ruddy Turnstone

2) E) Purple sandpiper

3) D) Whimbrel

4) A) Black-tailed godwit

5) B) Avocet

Question Twelve

The bird ‘drumming’ is the Common Snipe

Dear Readers. there are some plants that other people seem to be able to grow in abundance, but which are a fail in my garden. I’ve always liked the idea of growing some of the single- flowered dahlia varieties because they are so good for pollinators, but they get eaten to death by slugs in the back garden, and blasted to oblivion in the front garden, however often I water them (my front garden is south-facing and gets the sun all day). When I read in the plant catalogues that a particular variety is ‘one of the very best dahlias for pots, flowering without cease for four months at a stretch’ I could cry. I wonder why it is that I always yearn most for the plants that are the most reluctant to be happy in the garden.And in spite of planting numerous bluebells, in the ‘green’ and as bulbs, last year this was the only one that flowered. I know they’re slow to establish, so maybe this year I’ll have two.

I’ve tried this cow parsley relative, Ammi majus, because I thought it might be as shade-tolerant as the ‘real’ cow parsley, but it wasn’t – it grew but was a bit weak and wobbly, put out one sad flower and then capsized. This year I am going to grow some ‘real’ cow parsley (something else that I suspect I’ll never have to plant again), but more of that tomorrow.

I am definitely going to have yet another go with nicotiana this year – I grew a few in pots and they were very popular with the pollinators. Protecting them from the slugs in the garden is another thing altogether, but I refuse to be defeated, especially as the woodland variety is said to be extremely shade-tolerant, smells wonderful and is very attractive to moths.

And finally, and most surprisingly because it grows like a veritable weed in other local gardens, I cannot get Mexican fleabane to thrive. What a pain. It self-seeds in cracks up and down the road, it bursts out of walls, I even have one tiny wild plant growing in the darkest part of the alley by the side of my house, but give it tender loving care and what should be an ideal position and, in my garden at least, it expires like La Dame aux Camellias in the opera. Ox-eye daisies do something similar – when we first moved into the house we had a magnificent showing of the plants beside the pond, but after they died back they never appeared again.

I have generally been remarkably lucky with my garden – plants often grow in places where they shouldn’t, and many of them are very accepting of my ineptitude. I wonder if every gardener has plants that ‘should’ thrive in their gardens, but which just refuse to ‘take’? And do they become the plants that the gardener most wants to succeed with, or does it make more sense to accept it and move on to something that will be happy? Let me know your personal experience, dear readers – gardening is definitely a learning experience, and a communal one too.

 

 

 

Dear Readers, I’m looking back at what happened in the garden last year, and am trying to decide what worked, and what didn’t. It’s fair to say that the garden looks pretty good in the spring. Lots of the bulbs do well – the snakeshead fritillaries are naturalising under the trees, and the grape hyacinths usually do pretty well too. You might remember that I’ve planted some wacky varieties of the latter this year, but I have forgotten where I planted them, so hopefully I’ll be in for a nice surprise.

My lovely friend J gave me some forget-me-nots, and they are gradually advancing across the garden, which is no problem to me.

In the pond, the marsh marigold always provides a splendid show of yellow flowers, and I’ve even indulged myself and bought a cream-coloured one this year. Let’s see how it gets on.

And I mustn’t forget the flowering currant. This starts flowering in March, and is an instant hit with the hairy-footed flower bees.

The figwort did well, and was appreciated by a wide range of insects, including this splendid rose chafer..

One of the triumphs of the year, though, was this wild angelica. It grew to nearly ten feet tall before keeling over. Sadly it’s a biennial, so it won’t be around this year, but I’m hoping it will have self-seeded. I shall be keeping my eyes open for any seedlings.

The mock orange did well as well.

And oh, the joy of planting something in a pot and forgetting what it is until it comes up. This honey garlic lily was probably my favourite plant of last year. I loved everything about it, especially the way that, when pollinated, the seedheads rise and look like the turrets of a tiny castle.

As usual in a wildlife garden, not all the wildlife behaves itself. How adorable are these two, though? Their mother rears at least one litter of babies in the whitebeam every year.

And they weren’t the only babies either. No one used my nest boxes last year, but both robins and great tits have been inspecting them already this year, so fingers crossed.

The lavender in the front garden attracted the usual range of pollinators, including this very fine wool carder bee.

And I grew teasel for the first time though not, judging by the amount of babies that have seeded themselves around the garden, for the last.

By mid-summer the hemp agrimony was in full bloom, and I started to notice the tiny spiders who lay in wait amongst the flowers. This has been such a good plant for pollinators – everyone from bumblebees to hoverflies seem to love it, and it comes back every year. It is a bit floppy though, so this year I’ve got some plant supports to try to keep everything more upright. Let’s see how we get on!

Oh and did I mention the teasel?

And I forgot that the leaf-cutter bees had been hard at work on the leaves of the enchanter’s nightshade, a ‘weed’ that just popped up. At least it was appreciated by somebody.

And I’m still very impressed with the bittersweet that’s entwined itself with the honeysuckle. To my surprise, it wasn’t just bumblebees that buzz-pollinated it last year, but some of these tiny solitary bees as well. Hopefully next year I’ll be able to get some better photographs and actually identify them.

The water mint did very well last year, and I suspect I will never be without it again either.

And by the autumn there are a few sedums to enjoy.

So, there were quite a lot of successes in the garden last year. However, there were a few failures as well, that I’ll be taking a look at tomorrow. How did your planting go in 2021, if you’re fortunate enough to have a garden/balcony/few pots? If you’re like me, it’s easy to remember the things that didn’t work, and forget about all the many plants that quietly settled in and made themselves at home. After all, a garden is always a work in progress, but it’s those moments of stunning, unexpected beauty that remind me why it’s always worth trying something new.

Dear Readers, although December in London was decidedly milder than usual (with 31st December being the mildest ever recorded), it was also decidedly dismal, with lots of rain and heavy grey skies. Couple that with the shortest day of the year, and it was a recipe for general misery. However, although today was cold we also got sunshine, and it feels as if all the birds are celebrating.

The starlings are clicking and singing away at the top of the whitebeam, as if in celebration. They have already cleared out two suet pellet feeders, and are decidedly fed up because I’m having my lunch before I refill them.

And then the goldfinches fly in. They are remarkably speedy for such small birds. And look at that fine red face! This bird is in full breeding fettle already.

And when I look at the twigs on the whitebeam and the hawthorn, I can see that there are buds already.

I can’t believe that the birds have missed the berries on the whitebeam. All the rest are gone.

And so it’s cold, and crisp, and altogether more wintry today. Long may it continue. It’s bracing, but definitely good for the soul to see the sun peeping through, and a few hints of spring.

Dear Readers, for my Mum and Dad’s generation, dancing was something that everybody did. My Mum and Dad only had to hear the first few bars of ‘Rock Around the Clock’ on the radio to start jiving around the kitchen, Mum twirling around, Dad whistling along (tunelessly as always). They were always the first onto the dancefloor, and if Dad got tired, Mum would find someone else’s boyfriend to take up the slack. No wonder she was always so thin! She could dance all night and still be fresh as a daisy in the morning. Have a look at Bill Hailey and the Comets in action and see if you can stop your toes from tapping….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eJOJhwgluE

But then Dad, in one of those strange quirks of history, discovered reggae. Years later he would spend time as a gin distiller in Jamaica, but he must have heard this song on the radio a good decade earlier. Dave and Ansell Collins would be his dance music of choice for years, although it was more of a solo pursuit – I would catch him moving around the living room in a strange shuffle, clicking his fingers and nodding his head, but only if  he thought he was on his own. Here, for your delectation, is ‘Double Barrel‘ . I’m pretty sure that this is more of a shoulder-gyrater than a toe-tapper. See what you think.

I think Mum thought that she’d be able to dance forever, and she was certainly still jumping up for a dance into her early seventies. But  gradually, the peripheral neuropathy in her feet and the scoliosis in her back, coupled with Dad’s bursitis and his increasing dementia, meant that their dancing days were done. It was one of the great sadnesses of Mum’s life that she never had a chance to give line dancing a go. At the start of a brand new year, it really does strike me that if we want to try something new, we shouldn’t keep putting it off, difficult as it is what with Covid putting the kibosh on so many things. On the other hand, how wonderful that Mum was still interested in trying new things and ready to learn even after her physical faculties were gone. How sad it would be to finish our lives with absolutely everything done and dusted, with no more hopes or plans.

Well, that’s the dancing done. But how about the Ladies bit? It won’t surprise you to learn that there are more vernacular names for plants including the word ‘Lady’ or ‘Ladies’ than for any other word. You could make up an entire wardrobe out of the words for clothes alone. So let’s do that! See if you can match the name to the photo of the plant. I’ve included the Latin name just to help you out (a bit).

Question

1. Ladies Bonnets
2. Lady’s Smock
3. Lady’s Lockets
4. Lady’s Slipper
5. Lady’s Mantle
6. Lady’s Tresses (ok, so not really an item of clothing, but definitely important for a lady).

Photo Credits

Photo A by Eric Hunt, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Photo B by Ivar Leidus – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 ee, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26560960

Photo C by Björn S…, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Photo D by Trish Steel, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Photo E by Tim Green, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Photo F has no attribution information –  CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=856627