Goodness,  Readers, when I was taking my little  walk along the County Roads yesterday I was very taken with how far the Amaranth, that I first wrote about in 2024, has spread. It seems to grow in virtually no soil at all, and pops forth a great crop of surprisingly toothsome leaves, considering that we’ve had next to no rain for months.

It’s difficult to identify Amaranth to species level – my current plant app suggests that this is Redroot Amaranth (Amaranthus retroflexus) but with only 34 percent certainty, so we won’t stick our neck out. Nor can we be sure how the plant arrived in the County Roads (specifically Huntingdon for any curious botanists out there). One theory is that it arrived with sand, maybe used when the EV chargers were put in. Another is that it came with bird seed. Yet another relates to those tasty green leaves, which are known as callaloo in Caribbean cooking, and could well have come from someone’s vegetable garden or allotment. What is certain is that it is happy here, bless it, and is colonising all sorts of unpromising spots.

Each one of those flowerheads (or ‘panicles’) contains 1000 to 3000 seeds, which can be harvested – the seeds have no outer husk and are rich in protein and several dietary minerals. The grains can also be milled into flower, and used for bread or cakes. Furthermore, the plant is extremely drought-tolerant, and can be grown around the panels in solar farms, providing an easily-harvested and easily-maintained crop. It’s already eaten by many communities around the world – in addition to the callaloo already mentioned, it’s eaten with rice and beans in Brazil, as a salad ingredient in Greece, and the leaves are eaten in India, Vietnam and China. The plant, both seeds and leaves, is also widely consumed in various African countries. It’s something of a star, and here it is, growing in a gutter. Clearly, respect is due to this tough, prolific plant. Maybe it’s no coincidence that the name ‘Amaranth’ comes from the Greek word for ‘unfading’.

Dear Readers, the Painted Lady bonanza continues – whenever I look out of the office window I see at least one or two on the Buddleia, which is fast going over, sadly. I cannot get over how fast and agile these butterflies are, with sometimes a couple circling one another at speed. They also think nothing of  shooing a bumblebee off of a particularly attractive flower. In the past few days they’ve been joined by Red Admirals, Commas, Small and Large Whites and Peacocks. It really feels like a bumper year. It’s even been rumoured that Clouded Yellows are present in large numbers along the South Coast, so I’m keeping an eye open. If you see a bright yellow butterfly at this time of year it’s almost certainly one of these migratory beauties (though beware, there are also Brimstone moths around, which are quite different).

Clouded Yellow ( Colia croceus) Photo By Charles J. Sharp – Own work, from Sharp Photography, sharpphotography, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=51144488

It’s a spectacular year for those plants that can survive it – the rowan trees on the County Roads are laden with berries, which the birds will be glad of later in the year I’m sure…

And there are lots of elderberries about too, these from Cherry Tree Wood…

Plus the Crape Myrtles are doing very well…

I am  trying to plant up plenty of drought-resistant  species in the south-facing front garden, so there’s something for the pollinators once the Buddleia has finished. I’m giving Rudbeckia a go, it seems to attract a lot of bees which is always a good thing. I’m also trying the Verbena cultivar which is less leggy than the typical Bodnante variety.

I’ve stuffed the windowboxes with Mediterranean herbs  – there’s marjoram, oregano and some nepeta. Historically, as soon as I’ve planted cat mint some cat has planted themselves on top of it, but hopefully the precarious nature of the windowsill will deter them a smidge.

Is anybody else re-thinking their garden in view of this year’s drought and hosepipe bans? I’m aware that not everybody has had the kind of summer that we have, but all bets are off for the future, I suspect. I was thinking about getting rid of the buddleia, but definitely not now, regardless of what the RHS say. I’d happily plant more natives, but how many are drought-tolerant enough to survive these conditions? Let me know what you think, and how you’re dealing with the challenges that you face – I’m curious not just about the UK, but I know I have readers in other parts of the world who are also facing climate changes of different kinds. Let’s learn from one another!

And in the meantime, a few more Painted Ladies, because you can never have too many…

Dear Readers, I often love the ‘Quote of the Day’ displayed at East Finchley station, but I was stopped in my tracks by this one: it’s my 25th wedding anniversary in a few weeks, so no wonder my thoughts are often turning to what love means, and what home means, and the intersection between the two. For me, ‘home’ is a feeling comprised not just of a location, but of all the people who make that place a home – the local friends, the people who come to visit, the shopkeepers and the road cleaner and the bus drivers, the people who pour our coffee, and the restaurant where I’ll be celebrating my BSc later today (quick shout out for Table du Marché if any East Finchleyites haven’t discovered it yet).

But having someone who has your back, even when you’re being ridiculous, someone who thinks you’re wonderful even when you’re laying on the sofa with a broken leg, well, that’s a special kind of home. It took me until I was nearly forty to find my soulmate – I am a bit envious of people who married their childhood sweetheart, but then again some people never find the person who is right for them. I never forget how lucky I am, in so many ways, but especially in  this. I think I’d given up on the idea of finding someone to make my life complete, and had instead decided that I was perfectly fine as I was. And maybe you have to reach that point so that the person you team up with adds synchronicity, so that you are cheerleaders for one another’s wildest dreams and ambitions. And so the other person is ‘home’, the ground from which you go out and have adventures, the safe harbour that you come back to. Nothing is forever in this life, but I count myself fortunate to have known this feeling.

And walking back along East Finchley High Road from the station, I thought how lucky we were to have the London Plane trees lining the route, bringing down the temperature and shading us as we walk up the hill. So many people were sitting on the wall having a sandwich or a drink under their cool green branches. I often give the tree trunks a pat as I go past, just to show the trees that I appreciate them. It feels like the least I can do.