Viburnum bodnantsis ‘Dawn’

Dear Readers, you might remember that I am hoping to have some work done on the trees in my garden – in particular, the whitebeam and the hawthorn need a bit of a trim. I’ve agreed the work with the tree surgeon, but since then there’s been torrential rain, high winds, problems getting the chipper for the bits that we’re going to cut off, and now the tree surgeon is off on holiday until 10th March. Woe is me! I am a little worried that the magpies will decide that it’s time to nest again, at which point we’ll be postponing everything until the autumn. For one thing it’s illegal to damage an active nest, and for another thing, much as magpies are rather divisive birds I’m not going to interfere if they’re just starting to breed.

But me  being me, that hasn’t stopped me from buying plants (and getting them as presents). My friend J bought me a Viburnum bodnantense ‘Dawn’ back in january, and it’s still sitting happily in its pot – it’s intended to go quite close to the whitebeam, so I’m taking no chances! And when I was at Myddelton Gardens with my pal L a few weeks ago I couldn’t resist the cheap plants at the Clockhouse Garden Centre, and so my Cyclamen coum and Dame’s Violet are waiting to get planted too. I’m visiting the Sunshine Garden Centre today (29th February) so who knows what I’ll have stacked up, just waiting to be planted, by the time the whitebeam is sorted?

Cyclamen just waiting to be planted.

In other news, you might remember that I was looking for a squirrel-proof feeder a while back, and the one below seems to be working nicely – the squirrels have had a go, but have given up, mainly because they can raid one of the other feeders.

Goldfinch taking advantage of the squirrel-proof feeder

But I have been fascinated by this rather handsome feral pigeon, who I have nicknamed ‘Rambo’ for reasons that will soon become apparent. He only visits once per day, and always comes alone, but once in situ he will see off any other bird, and sometimes even the squirrels. The parakeets get pecked as well, which is very impressive.

Here ‘he’ (I have no idea) is seeing off a woodpigeon.

And here the sparrows wait patiently for him to have his fill (though they have also taken to the suet feeder).

And everywhere, things are coming into bud, which is very gratifying after what has felt like a long, damp winter.

And today is ‘Leap Day’! Traditionally, a woman can propose marriage to a chap on 29th February, so if any of you have been thinking of doing such a thing, now’s your chance. In Scotland, any man who refused such a proposal could be fined (up to the price of a silk gown), and in Denmark any reluctant males had to buy twelve pairs of gloves for the woman in question, so that she could cover up the fact that she didn’t have an engagement ring.  On the other hand, in Ukraine and Greece it’s believed that getting married during a leap year can lead to divorce, so maybe leave the actual ceremony until 2025. And regardless, you could celebrate with a ‘Leap Year Cocktail’, devised by Harry Craddock, a bar tender at the Savoy. In 1928 he devised a drink that combined gin, vermouth, lemon juice and Grand Marnier, and after that lot I imagine that you might be far more amenable to proposals of many kinds. Cheers everybody!

Dear Readers, I have been wanting to visit the Orchid Festival at Kew Gardens for many years, but somehow something always happened (the pandemic, a crisis at work, a crisis with the parents). This year, however, I finally made it! This year’s theme was ‘The Orchids of Madagascar’, and fair enough – the country has over 1,000 species of orchid (one in ten plants in Madagascar is an orchid). Of these species, 90% are endemic (found nowhere else) and Kew has been very active in working with Malagasy scientists to document and conserve what’s there.

I was also lucky enough to visit Madagascar about twenty years ago – I found it one of the most interesting, difficult and heart-breaking places that I’ve ever encountered.

The Festival is held in the Princess of Wales Conservatory (which hosts a variety of different zones, from desert to tropical forest), and we all queued up in the chilly wind for about half an hour before we got in. At least it wasn’t raining! And then people had their bags checked so we trickled in a bit at a time, which meant that it never felt overwhelmingly busy.

Orchids in the desert zone

It’s fair to say that many of the orchids were not Madagascan, but there were some very unusual and attractive plants. Plus to entertain the young ‘uns (and the not-so-young ‘uns) there were various Madagascan animals dotted about, some obvious, some not.

Ring-tailed lemurs…

I loved the cactuses in the desert zone.

And there was an elephant bird! This bird was only rendered extinct well after humans arrived in Madagascar (probably as late as the 13th century) and you can still buy elephant bird eggs in the local markets.

An elephant bird.

I don’t know why my Christmas Cactus never looks exactly like this. 

Then it was off into the tropical zone, with its pond and explosion of orchids. Sadly my camera lens steamed up and I didn’t notice for quite a while. Still, hopefully you get the idea.

There was a wickerwork Zebu  (a kind of local humped cow) standing in the shallows. I remember driving past a herd of these cattle in our jeep, and seeing the farmer cut the throat of one of the animals – what a visceral and unexpected shock that was! But we also saw farmers tenderly washing and grooming their cattle and their water buffalo. There are a variety of cultures in Madagascar, and it would take a lifetime to even begin to appreciate them.

The next part of the conservatory was full of chameleons – not real ones, sadly. Madagascar is home to over half of the world’s species of chameleon, from giants to tiny leaf chameleons that would fit on a thumb nail.

There were also some tiny orchids dangling from the ceiling.

Oh look, an aye-aye! These are nocturnal lemurs who use their long middle-fingernail to extract beetle larvae from dead wood. When we visited, one of them wandered over to our guide and tappity-tapped at the foot of his wellington boot. I wonder if s/he thought that the movement of his toes was a grub?

One minor aggravation, for me at least, was that it was very difficult to find any information on the individual orchid species. I have lots of pretty photos, but I have no idea which of these plants are Madagascan, or anything about their lifecycles, except that they involve all kinds of complex interactions with other species. Still, these are exquisite organisms, and here are some photos to prove it.

And oh, look – a sifaka (one of those lemurs that leaps across the ground or between the trees).

The last ‘scene’ was a mock-up of a research camp, complete with jeep and tent and some herbarium specimens.

Interestingly, the Madagascar Periwinkle is the plant featured here – this was a folk-remedy for diabetes for decades, but its active ingredient was found to be able to stop the rapid dividing of cells. This ingredient, vincristine, is used as a treatment for childhood leukaemia – originally it could only be extracted from the plant, but can now be synthesised. It just goes to show that we could be losing plants which would be of great value to humanity – this is not the only reason for saving them, as every species has both an intrinsic value and a place in its ecosystem, but it does give the situation an added poignancy.

Madagascar periwinkle (Catharanthus roseus)

And then we were thoroughly hungry, and so we went for lunch at The Original Maids of Honour, just five minutes along Kew Bridge Road. They do what looks like a wonderful Afternoon Tea (the coffee eclairs looked scrumptious) and their pies, pasties and quiches are all home-made. It was absolutely delicious, but Readers, if you are going to go I would definitely book – we got the last available table on a rainy Monday, goodness only knows what it’s like at the weekend! I love Kew Gardens but have always been a bit underwhelmed by their food offering, so this is a great alternative.

Dear Readers, when you look at the image above, what do you see? Is it an abstract painting? Is it a painting at all? In fact, it’s an image of a tailings pond from a diamond mine in Kimberley, South Africa, and is by Edward Burtynsky, a Canadian who has been photographing our impact on the natural world for 40 years. Here’s what he has to say:

“Nature transformed through industry is a predominant theme in my work. I set course to intersect with a contemporary view of the great ages of man; from stone, to minerals, oil, transportation, silicon, and so on. To make these ideas visible I search for subjects that are rich in detail and scale yet open in their meaning. Recycling yards, mine tailings, quarries and refineries are all places that are outside of our normal experience, yet we partake of their output on a daily basis.

These images are meant as metaphors to the dilemma of our modern existence; they search for a dialogue between attraction and repulsion, seduction and fear. We are drawn by desire – a chance at good living, yet we are consciously or unconsciously aware that the world is suffering for our success. Our dependence on nature to provide the materials for our consumption and our concern for the health of our planet sets us into an uneasy contradiction. For me, these images function as reflecting pools of our times.”

What struck me was how beautiful some of these images were, in spite of what they depicted. I was particularly struck by these photographs of a Russian potash mine. The patterns in the tunnel walls are made by the drills, revealing these psychedelic patterns of colour (you can see the tunnel arcing off to left of the photograph).

This image, which looks to me like an eye, or maybe the centre of a flower, is of the tailings of an Australian coal mine, which has been leaking methane since its closure in 2014.

Not all the images show human damage – the spirals and wavy lines below are swales, channels ploughed into the earth to capture rainwater and and self-seeded plants in the Northern Cape, South Africa.

And the photos below show the polders in the Netherlands, where the Dutch have been dealing with the challenges of being a low-lying country for hundreds of years.

This photo, which looks rather like an illustration from a book, shows pivot irrigation in Arizona – the fields are circular because they’re irrigated from a central point with ground water from the Ogallala aquifer, which is running dry and will take thousands of years to replenish.

The photo below shows fields of rapeseed being grown for biofuels in China. We might compare this to the acres upon acres of rapeseed and maize being grown in the UK for a similar purpose.

These are the greenhouses of Almeria, in Spain…

And these are the oil sands of Alberta at Fort McMurray. Incidentally, for a challenging and exciting read I can recommend John Vaillant’s book on what happened in the fires of 2016 ‘Fire Weather – A True Story From a Hotter World’, which won the Baillie-Gifford Prize for Non-Fiction last year.

Here is what’s left of the landscape after a uranium mine in Northern Ontario was decommissioned twenty years ago….

And this is the image that probably made Burtynsky’s name back in 1996 – it shows the tailings from a nickel mine just outside Sudbury in Ontario. The red colour comes from oxidised waste from the mining process. Interestingly, this is a small stream rather than the mighty river that it appears – scale is everything in Burtynsky’s photos.

I love the sculptural quality of some of Burtynsky’s photographs – this one, of a partially-completed ship in a Chinese megadock really caught my eye.

But there are also human stories here. This is a Madagascan sapphire mine – it is totally unregulated, and people can dig here if they can afford the fees. You can see how dangerous the ‘mine’ looks, as if there might be a landslide at any second. The sapphires are sold for a fraction of their eventual price in wooden shacks in the main town, which feels more like the ‘wild west’ than anywhere I’ve ever been.

Here’s a close up of the top right hand corner, where the men have left their flip-flops so that they can dig barefoot. I find it very moving.

And finally, here are a few factory shots. Some of these took literally days to build. All these ladies in pink are preparing chicken in a Chinese factory.

And judging by the slogans on the banners, you might think this was another Chinese factory. Well, in effect it is, but it’s actually in Ethiopia, as you can see if you look at the workers. China is pouring money into some parts of Africa, and the outcomes will be interesting to see.

What can I say? This exhibition is well worth a look – the Saatchi is a great space, with enough room for you to actually stand back and take in the images. Plus, today it wasn’t at all crowded. It is £18 each though, which isn’t cheap, so if you’d like to see some Burtynsky for free, hang on until 28th February when his new work will be at the Flowers Gallery in Cork Street, London. You can also get a nice idea of the exhibition for free here, with images of each of the rooms at the Saatchi.

Overall, I’m conflicted. The images of such destructive practices as mining and intensive agriculture are often extraordinarily beautiful, and therein lies the rub. If we want to continue to have ‘things’ in the way that we’ve had them in the past, we need to be aware of what that wanting does. I feel a little as if Burtynsky’s photos present a gods’ eye view of the world, a certain detachment. I loved them as abstract images, but they didn’t move me. Let me know what you think.

An example of Peach Fuzz – Chrysanthemum Salmon Enbee Wedding (from https://www.hallsofheddon.com/product/chrysanthemum-salmon-enbee-wedding/)

Dear Readers, my Royal Horticultural Magazine is always a source of wonderment, and this month there was an article about Pantone’s ‘Colour of the Year’. Who knew that there was such a thing? But this year, the global colour-trend forecasters at the paint company have announced that it’s ‘Peach Fuzz’, and my poor old Mum would have been delighted – she was always one for a ‘Rosy Glow’ in the living room, and I’m sure this shade would have been right up her street.

I also didn’t know that the RHS have a Colour Chart, with 920 hues, each with a unique code and name that can be matched precisely to fruit, flowers and foliage. This must be very handy for the garden planner with a vision! It is apparently the standard reference used by horticulturalists worldwide, so that they know that when they refer to a particular colour, another gardener or plant enthusiast will know exactly what they’re on about. In order to see what ‘Peach Fuzz’ would look like, Yvette Harvey, the Keeper of the Herbarium at RHS, matched the paint sample to the Colour Chart, and discovered that the closest match was 26D, called, rather prosaically, ‘Light Yellowish Pink’. There are only fourteen plants out of the 90,000 listed that match the colour designation, and here are a few of them.

The chrysanthemum in the first photo is a half-hardy perennial, and looks as if it might be good for pollinators, though in my experience they aren’t particularly attracted to peach/apricot/orange flowers – do tell if you have a different experience!

Dahlia ‘Labyrinth’ is a stunner, but I have had no luck at all with dahlias so far. Maybe I’ll have another bash this year.

Dahlia ‘Labyrinth’ from https://www.sarahraven.com/products/dahlia-labyrinth

And how about this wonderful Red-Hot Poker (Kniphofia) – this definitely is good for pollinators, in spite of it being pollinated by sunbirds in its native South Africa.

Red-Hot Poker ‘Toffee Nosed’ from https://www.perfectplantings.co.uk/store/Kniphofia-Toffee-Nosed-p581831256

And this is a plant that I’d never come across before – Lilium rosthornii, a Chinese lily that reminds me rather of a Martagon lily. As with all lilies, keep away from your feline friends!

Lilium rosthornii by By John Lykkegaard – https://www.flickr.com/photos/16734351@N00/, CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1134434

And how about this rather strange narcissus – known as  ‘Waldorf Astoria’ it’s a pretty colour but has a most unlikely shape.

Narcissus ‘Waldorf Astoria’ from https://qualitydaffodils.com/daffodils/waldorf-astoria-4w-p-l-40-60cm-per-single-bulb/

Now this is more like it! I rather like this Potentilla.

Potentilla ‘Day Dawn’ from https://imberhornelane-nursery.co.uk/buy/potentilla-fruticosa-daydawn/

For anyone with no outside space who wants to get into the whole ‘Peach Fuzz’ thing, here’s a barrel cactus (Rebutia ‘Apricot Ice’)

Rebutia ‘Apricot Ice’ from
https://www.gardenersworld.com/plants/rebutia-apricot-ice/

Then there’s a peach-coloured Azalea (‘Hanger’s Flame)…

Azalea ‘Hanger’s Flame’ from https://www.rhododendrons.co.uk/deciduous-azalea-hangers-flame/p253

And this very pretty, delicate rose (‘Joie de Vivre ‘Korflociol’)…

Rosa ‘Joie de Vivre’ (Korflociol) from https://hayloft.co.uk/rosa-joie-de-vivre-g-k33574

And finally, and possibly my favourite, this Verbascum, ‘Tropic Sun’. Sadly this was the best photo that I could get, and the seeds are out of stock at this supplier, so no Tropic Sun for me!

Verbascum (Mullein) ‘Tropic Sun’ from https://cottagegardenseeds.co.uk/product/verbascum-tropic-sun-agm/

So if this has all piqued your interest, there’s an article on the RHS website about how to incorporate peach-coloured plants into your garden here and should you wish to lay your hands on the RHS colour chart it’s here though at £295 you’d need to be very keen.

Furthermore, if you’re intrigued by the whole idea of ‘The Colour of the Year’, you can have a look at some previous winners (and the way that the colours are chosen) here. If nothing else, it’s a very astute marketing device, and no doubt companies from fashion houses to garden centres will be stocking up with pale orange, peach and apricot products. Let me know if you spot anything, I’m intrigued….

Dear Readers, I have had a wonderful response to the Flowers for Fran appeal – seeds have gone to Cornwall and Wales, various spots in London and Stratford Upon Avon. But as you can see, I still have quite a lot left, so if you’ve been hanging back coyly, now’s your chance to be bold! I have been sending out  the most recent seeds first, so some of the packets now have a date of 2023 or even earlier. However, in my experience, although you won’t get quite the same level of germination some seeds will still ‘do their stuff’ and it all makes for a bit less ‘pricking out’ when the time comes.

If you’d like some seeds (or already have some, but would like some more), see the list below. If you post a comment (with your email address rather than anonymously) I shall contact you to sort out where to send everything to. I’m paying for the postage as a little gift to Fran, and to all the bees and butterflies and other critters who will hopefully come calling.

I have the following seeds in my magic box. Don’t be shy! These flowers aren’t going to plant themselves you know :-).

Dear Readers, sometimes it’s the little things that really make an impression, as with this incident. Writing a daily blog really helps me to notice things like this.

Dear Readers, why, you might ask, is the blog featuring a rather unassuming-looking sandwich bar today? Well, I am in Dorchester, and it’s always hard – Dorset has so many memories of when Mum and Dad were alive. When I travel through Moreton station, I can almost see the pair of them standing on the platform waiting for my train to arrive, Dad would be in his zip-up jacket, Mum in some combination of bright fuchsia and turquoise and both of  them would be wearing  those photochromatic spectacles that go dark at the first sign of sunshine. They always reminded me of a pair of mature and successful bank robbers taking a break from Marbella. And now, no one waits for me at the station, and yet I always find myself looking for them, or for some trace of them.

So, by the time I get to the next station along, Dorchester South, I am often a little downhearted. And then there’s the walk past the care home where Mum and Dad spent their last months. I always pause to look up at the window on the third floor which was Dad’s room, as if I expect him to be watching for me, or at least for my bright red coat. Towards the end, I think he recognised the coat more than he did me, but I take comfort that he always knew that I was someone who was special to him for some reason, and someone who cared about him.

Today, I jumped on the train before I had a chance to buy any lunch, and all this remembering had made me hungry, so I stopped at the Pic-Nick sandwich bar. It’s tiny, really just a counter and a space to wait, but the man working there made me a massive ham and mustard roll (for some reason my vegetarianism goes right out of the window here). And then, he asked me if I wanted any salad.

“No thank you”, I said. I always feel as if I need all the carbohydrates and fat that I can get.

And he hesitated, and then he said “Oh, go on, have some iceberg lettuce at least, it’s good for you, and we all need the vitamins. It’s not any extra”.

And I thought, you know what, I do need the vitamins. I never thought of myself as being a disordered eater, but just lately I do wonder. It’s as if I can make the effort to make healthy meals for other people, but when it’s just me I don’t bother.

He was waiting for me to make a decision.

“Yes, please”, I said, and he looked so delighted that I felt as I’d done him a favour, instead of the other way round.

Why should a complete stranger care about someone else’s health? And care enough to risk a rebuff? What a lovely man. And it was the most delicious roll that I’ve had in a long time (and a lot cheaper than the equivalent would have been in London).

And so, if you are ever in Dorchester and looking for a sandwich, I can recommend the Pic-Nick on Allington Street, just round the corner from the Tutankhamun exhibition and the art shop. And if I was you I would definitely include some salad, because we all need some more vitamins.

Waterlily in frog pond, Tabin Wildlife Reserve, Borneo

And then there was that pandemic thing….it’s funny reading this now, with so much still to come on both a personal and a universal level. I started writing the blog daily at this point, and to my astonishment I haven’t missed a day since. 

Dear Readers, it has been a remarkable few weeks. On Friday 13th March I headed off for my big 60th birthday trip to Borneo, something that I’d been planning for over a year. At the time there were no travel advisories for Malaysia, and the main problems with Covid-19 seemed to be in China (where it was seemingly coming under control), Italy (in lockdown) and South Korea. Malaysia had a small number of cases, and Singapore, where we were heading to at the end of the trip, had the best results of any country in containing the disease. However, for the past ten days it has felt as if we are surfing just ahead of a huge wave. Singapore was closed, so that part of the trip was cancelled. Malaysia announced a lockdown, so no new tourists arrived. We were the last visitors at each place that we stayed, and the staff and guides at the lodges had no idea when they’d be able to work again after we left. Our plane home, on Sunday night, was packed with people who’d gotten stuck all over Asia. Out of 60 planes leaving from Kota Kinabalu, 56 were cancelled. I am so grateful and lucky to be home, and am also full of sadness, both for the beautiful but benighted country that I visited, and for the terrible effects of this virus. And don’t get me started on the inadequate responses of our own government.

So, I have lots of things to share with you, and I will start a daily blog from Thursday so that I can take you all with me on my Borneo adventure (minus the mosquito bites). But first, I wanted to check in with you and see how you are all doing. I know that different places are in different degrees of lockdown, but here in the UK all non-essential shops are closed along with schools, churches, and other meeting places. Physical distancing is supposed to be observed, with a 2 metre gap between people who don’t live together when in public spaces. You can go out to exercise once a day (and I’ve already had a brisk walk around Coldfall Wood, where most people seem to have got the message about keeping their distance). The police now have powers to enforce the closures and physical distancing but it will be interesting to see how that goes. The measures are supposed to be reviewed in three weeks, but realistically I expect this to last for a good few months at least. I am able to work from home, which is great, and for me I think that the key will be to get into a routine – it would be so easy to disappear into a black hole of online Covid-19 news and general nonsense. I recognise, again, how lucky I am in so many ways: I am in good health, my husband is also my best friend so we won’t be throwing things at one another as the weeks go on, and it’s easy to get to the local shops that are open for food. I am joining one of the local voluntary support groups so that I can help with shopping or picking up medications for people who are totally self-isolating, and that will help me feel connected. Plus, the garden is full of birds and the fritillaries are in bloom, so nature, as always, helps to make me feel grounded.

Bornean Daddy Long Legs spider

My biggest worry is Dad. His nursing home has been in lockdown for several weeks now, with no visitors allowed. On Sunday he developed a chest infection and was admitted to the local hospital. He is now improving, but has to await the results of a COVID-19 test, which is taking two days. This seems like a very long time to wait for test results – if Dad is getting better I suspect he doesn’t have the virus, and therefore is blocking a bed for someone who is much sicker than him. Plus, his dementia makes him extremely distressed in unfamiliar surroundings, and visitors are strictly limited. Fortunately his favourite carer from the home is going to see if there’s any way that she can get in to see him today, which will help, and hopefully he’ll test clear and be out on Wednesday. These situations always make me feel helpless, and it’s even worse when I can’t get down to see him myself.

Pig-tailed macaques in Sukau, Borneo

So, I would love to know how you’re holding up under the strain of the current situation. It’s an anxiety-provoking time for us all, and we will need one another more than ever. How are you spending your time? Are you, like me, looking at the clutter and deciding that this might be the time to make life a bit simpler? Are you able to get out into the garden or into nature? What hobbies or pastimes calm your nerves? And do you have any advice for the rest of us? We are living through a historic time, and there will be lessons to be learned that will resonate through the years to come. How we look after ourselves and one another may give us valuable information about the kind of world that we want to live in going forward.

Spiders Web, Sukau, Borneo