Category Archives: London Plants

A July Visit to Barnwood

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Nursery web spider (Pisaura mirabilis)

Dear Readers, Barnwood, a Community Forest in East Finchley, has become a real treasure-trove for biodiversity. I’d been sent a photo of a nursery web spider a few days ago, so I couldn’t wait to go and have a look for myself. In the photo above the proud Mum was looking after two balls of tiny spiderlings – a ladybird was roundly told off, though the spider clearly knew that the beetle wasn’t very tasty.

Nursery Web Spiderlings

The romantic life of a nursery web spider is fraught with danger for the male, who must woo the female with a wrapped gift of a fly or other tasty morsel. While she’s getting tucked in, he will hope to mate with her. If he’s lucky, he’ll make his getaway before she eats him. Then, the female lays a number of eggs which form a white ball – she will carry this around with her, and will also form the ‘nursery web’ that you can see in the photos. This is not used to catch prey – the spider hunts for these in the undergrowth – but for protection. The mother retreats into the sanctuary with her egg sac, which soon hatches to produce a mass of tiny spiderlings. At this point the mother stands guard outside until they disperse. 

I love the way that Barnwood has become not just a haven for wildlife, but a real community resource. Many of the fruit and nut trees are doing well, and the over-55s group has been making soup from foraged ingredients too. Here’s just a selection of the edible delights that are popping up…

Beech nut

Currants

Gooseberries

Apples

Medlars

One new development since my  last visit has been a lockable ‘shed’ – only someone who has had to lump garden tools backwards and forwards from their house without any way to store them on site will appreciate what a tremendous asset this is. And very fine it looks too.

The shed/lock-up

I tried to help ID some moths that had been caught in the trap overnight, but identifying these slightly worn noctuid moths is always a nightmare, at least for me. They will all be released into different places in the undergrowth so that the birds don’t learn where to find them. My friend L at Barnwood is going to ask a more experienced moth-er for some help with the ID. I am full of admiration for people who can understand the nuances of appearance between the different species.

We think that the tree growing by the entrance to Barnwood is an osier willow (Salix viminalis) – the plant’s flexible stems were historically used for basket weaving. It’s also a very useful plant for wildlife, and like all willow species can decontaminate heavy metals in soil.

Osier willow (Salix viminalis)

The prickly sowthistle and the common knapweed are in full flower – both are much favoured by bees and hoverflies. 

Prickly sowthistle (Sonchus asper\0

Common knapweed (Centaurea nigra)

And a speckled wood butterfly is basking in the sunshine. 

While we had a rest on the new benches in one of the clearings, a buzzard flew up from the locust tree opposite and soared off towards the cemetery. I wonder if it’s one of those that I regularly see over the cemetery? L remarked that he’d seen a red kite from Barnwood several times, and so we sat in companionable silence for a few minutes to see if one would cooperate and appear. We didn’t see one, but still, Barnwood feels like a place of great biodiversity, full of opportunities for all kinds of invertebrates and birds, and yet also a place that welcomes human diversity too. There is something for everyone at Barnwood.

For a great piece about Barnwood and its history, have a look here.

A Mid-Year Walk in St Pancras and Islington Cemetery

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Reflexed stonecrop (Sedum rupestre)

Dear Readers, I have some page-a-day calendars in my office – one with a daily photo of cats, one of dogs, and one of nature scenes. And so, I have to break it to you that today is the day when we reach the mid-point of the calendar year, and all the photos have to be turned around so that I can start looking at the images for the second half of the year. How did THAT happen? It feels like Christmas was about twenty minutes ago. Nonetheless, there are plenty of signs in the cemetery that the year is already starting to think about autumn, although there are still plenty of flowers about too, like these lovely yellow reflexed stonecrop, which are popping up on certain graves where the conditions are right.

On the horse chestnut, the conkers are getting bigger, but the leaves are showing the very first signs of the leaf miners that will have nibbled them to a frazzle by the end of August.

And please forgive me for a few more shots of the fox and cubs (Pilosella aurantiacia) – they are stunning.

Here’s a new plant in flower – generally known as Creeping Jenny, this is a member of the primrose family, and very pretty it is too. It was a very damp day today, which suits this little plant very much – it loves damp places, and in fact I was thinking about getting some for around the pond to soften the edges.

Creeping Jenny (Lysimachia nummularia)

I pause to examine the numerous trivial plant bugs (Closterotomus trivialis) on some hogweed – they are everywhere this year! The males are mostly black and red, the females are mostly green, and all of them feed on pollen and nothing else, but help to pollinate the plants as they do so.

There are great frothy masses of white stonecrop (Sedum album) around too.

The yarrow (Achillea millefolium) is coming into flower – quite a lot of it seems to be pinkish this year.

And the goat’s rue is putting in an appearance in both pale mauve and white. This is one of those plants that has gone from being a relative rarity in this part of the world to being pretty much ubiquitous in the cemetery.

Goat’s Rue (Galega officinalis)

I spot my first meadow brown of the year….

Meadow brown(Maniola jurtina)

And here is a very fine black-and-yellow longhorn beetle (Rutpela maculata) – the larvae live in the deadwood of deciduous trees, and the adults hang out on umbellifers, as in the photos below. I advise getting up close and personal to any stands of wild carrot or hogweed that you see – they are a great place to see interesting insects.

What really struck me today, though, was the way that the leaves on some perennial plants were already turning, and how beautiful they were. Look at these dock leaves! The colour may be due to a rust fungus or insect infestation, or it might just be part of the natural cycle of growth and decay (or indeed both of these things).

The leaves on the garlic mustard (Alliaria petiolata) are going through a similar process, but in shades of purple-red and yellow.

And the herb Robert is starting to display the clearest crimson of all…

And let’s not forget this splendid agent of decay who was obviously enjoying the rain. This is the brown-coloured form of Arion ater, the Great Black Slug. A very fine slug indeed!

And of course, I had to say hello to the Scotsman, who is standing pretty much in a grove of spent stalks and dry foliage at the moment. He doesn’t seem unhappy though, for all that.

A Legal London Tree Walk from London Tree Walks by Paul Wood – Part 2

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Dear Readers, after saying goodbye to the falconer and his Harris hawks yesterday, I made my way across the Strand and into the Middle Temple via a twisty little lane called Devereux Court. Wood describes this as ‘entering another world’, and so it is – the sound of traffic falls away, to be replaced, in Fountain Court, by the splashing sound of the oldest fountain in London, dating from 1681.

The two twisted trees to either side of the fountain are black mulberries – although they look ancient, they were planted for Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1887. I was just a little early to see them in fruit, so a return journey is definitely in order! Although James I is credited with trying to kickstart the British silk industry by importing mulberries back in the 1600s, Wood explains that archaeologists have found Roman-era mulberry seeds in remains in the city, so the berries have probably been on the menu since well before the silk link was established. Incidentally, black mulberries are the wrong species for silk worms, who prefer white mulberries, but black mulberries are apparently infinitely better eating.

Leaves of the black mulberry

One of the black mulberries being given a helping hand…

The gardeners in the various parts of the Temple are obviously extremely busy people, as we shall shortly see. I love that they have adopted that most insect-friendly of plants, the echium, as a statement in some of their beds – they crop up everywhere, and I am possessed with a need to try to grow one, after my success with my giant angelica this year. Echiums are in the borage family, and viper’s bugloss is an echium, though this plant is probably Echium pinana from the Canary Islands, otherwise known as Giant Echium, for obvious reasons.

On I go, past some more magnificent plane trees and the Middle Temple Hall, said to be central London’s finest Elizabethan building. This is probably where the first ever performance of Twelfth Night was held, and Shakespeare himself is thought to have been in attendance.

Middle Temple Hall

I have a quick look at Middle Temple Garden, which is a lovely spot, notable for its splendid acers and a particularly lovely peach-coloured climbing rose.

Middle Temple Gardens

A splendid rose…

Then it’s off into Pump Court. I am rather taken by the geometrical branches of the Tree Cotoneasters in this gloomy spot – they seem to be trying to sketch out a Mondrian painting.

A pump in Pump Court

Some very geometrical cotoneaster branches

I pause briefly at Temple Church (where a barrister friend got married), and am very taken by the pale blue clematis (possibly Blue Angel, but feel free to put me right) growing up the banisters to the Master’s House. This is my kind of garden, and I know how much effort it takes to make something look this informal. However, I haven’t seen anything yet.

Steps up to the Master’s House

Clematis (Blue Angel?)

 

Then it’s a quick turn into King’s Bench Walk, which is mostly a car park, though again the London planes are magnificent.

London Planes in King’s Bench Walk

There is a heap of building work going on, and I felt a little sorry for these poor echiums peering out over a hoarding…

But then I entered Inner Temple Garden. Oh my goodness! If you have never been here before, do make time when you come to London – it’s one of the most idyllic, beautifully designed gardens that I’ve ever come across. It has a breezy informality and romanticism that must take a shedload of work. It’s extremely pollinator-friendly which of course keeps me happy, and, as you would expect from a tree walk, it has some magnificent trees.

So, here we go. First up is a hybrid strawberry tree with rust-red bark, which was full of fledgling blue tits when I visited.

Hybrid Strawberry Tree

Mexican fleabane and ox-eye daisies have seeded themselves in the cracks on the steps.

The entrance/exit to the gardens

On one side of the path, euphorbia and verbena and a host of other flowering plants pour over the gravel….

Euphorbia

…while on the other side, there is a meadow of mixed grasses, poppies, ox-eye and other daisies.

There is a magnificent Atlas Cedar with blue-grey foliage, and the sound of goldcrests coming from the branches…

Atlas Cedar

…and the bed on the other side of the path as I turn towards the Thames is themed in dark red and white, with the largest scabious I’ve ever seen….

…some amazing white foxgloves with deep magenta centres and a kind of lacy frill around the edge (much appreciated by bumblebees as you can see)…

and some deep purple poppies…

There is a very unusual Manchurian Walnut…

Manchurian walnut

And although the alliums are going over, their seedheads are still very striking.

Allium seedheads

There is a magnificent dawn redwood….

Dawn Redwood

And then there’s an avenue of London planes. I defy anyone’s blood pressure not to drop as you walk along this green passage, regardless of the traffic belting past just over the wall.

There are 3 enormous plane trees planted in the lawn which are thought to date to the 1770s, but the avenue is younger – Wood thinks that the trees on the northern side (on the right-hand side of the first photo above) are probably nineteenth century, the ones on the southern side (closest to the river) are early twentieth century. When you look at the girth of the trunks you can see that those on the left are clearly still slim and youthful, while middle-aged spread has taken the ones on the right.

There is a lovely little fountain with the waterlilies just coming into flower.

And a splendid view back to the Manchurian Walnut.

The next border is a positive cornucopia of different varieties of hydrangea – it’s not my favourite plant, but some varieties are attracting bees who are after the pollen.

I have just missed the flowering of the tulip tree, but it does gift me with one blossom. This is a very fine tree. Its branches look like a cupped hand. I also appreciate the way that the gardeners have left a wide circle unmowed under pretty much all the trees in the lawn.

Tulip Tree

Tulip Tree flower

Tulip Tree

I walk past a young woman who has posed a china tea set with a shortbread biscuit on a tiny miniature table with a gingham table cloth against a backdrop of pink hydrangeas, and who is clearly taking a photo for her Instagram feed. I imagine it will be very pretty.

I am rather taken by this enormous plant. The chair underneath it is full-size. It looks a bit like Gunnera but not as spikey – some giant version of Rodgersia perhaps? I obviously have a thing for giant plants currently….

And then there’s this very unusual fuchsia.

A final turn, and I’m heading back towards the gate. It’s like being kicked out of Narnia…..

…because just a few hundred metres out of the garden I come to the Embankment, and this is the sight that awaits me.

Holy moly, what’s going on? Well, apparently it’s the Tideway Super Sewer, which aims to collect and transport more of London’s sewage (the current Bazalgette sewer was built when London’s population was only half the size). Every year, millions of tonnes of raw sewage end up in the Thames and its tributaries, so if this can be cleaned up it can only be a good thing. At the moment it looks a bit of a nightmare, but it will no doubt be great once the carpet’s down, as my Nan used to say. In the meantime, I would stick to the peace and tranquillity of the Inner Temple Garden if I was you. It’s open from 12.30 to 15.00 on weekdays (nb not weekends or public holidays), and I would check before making a special journey as I think it’s sometimes closed for special events. Well worth a look though, and another splendid walk from Paul Wood’s book.

London Tree Walks by Paul Wood is available here.

One of the older plane trees, probably dating back to about 1770.

A Legal London Tree Walk from London Tree Walks by Paul Wood – Part 1

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A Venerable London Plane on Kingsway

Dear Readers, doing Paul Wood’s ‘arboreal ambles’ has been a lovely way of reacquainting myself with London, after an absence of nearly eighteen months. I had forgotten how much I loved the city, and how a leisurely walk can bring so much more than you expect. So it was today, when I had a splendid and totally unexpected encounter with two species of birds of prey, discovered a ‘secret’ garden in the heart of the legal district, and met some of the most extraordinary London plane trees that I’ve ever come across. I’ve lived in the capital for my entire life, and yet there’s still so much to discover.

Anyhow, we commence on Kingsway, which runs past Holborn station. The road is lined by London plane trees and a few Trees of Heaven, all of which seem to lean out away from the buildings, presumably to catch more sunlight. These are not old by plane tree standards – these were planted after the Second World War, in 1947.

Next, I duck through a narrow lane towards the entrance to Lincoln’s Inn Fields. The square is lined by some fine early nineteenth-century buildings, including the Sir John Soane’s Museum, which I haven’t yet visited (some Londoner I am, but isn’t it always the way?)

The Sir John Soane’s Museum – a treasure chest of collected antiquities

I have to stop to admire a crow who is trying to work out how to get into the litter bin, and is trying to pretend that he isn’t.

‘Nothing to see here!’

Then it’s into Lincoln’s Inn Fields. For a while there was an encampment of homeless people here, in the middle of the biggest square in London, and one of the richest areas. In 1993 the fences were raised, and the people were booted out. Since then, the gates have been locked at dusk, but I noticed some people sleeping on the benches, and one soul curled up in a sleeping bag behind one of the shrubs. During the Covid lockdown we managed to provide a place to sleep for all the homeless people in London, which proves that it can be done, but as everyone seems to think we’re getting back to normal, it’s business as usual for the destitute.

There is a fine Canadian Sugar Maple enclosed in it’s own little paddock, as if the park keepers are afraid that it will uproot itself and catch the first plane back to British Columbia (though with temperatures in the 40s at the moment I would advise it to stay put). It was planted by Jean Chrétien, and as it’s a source of maple syrup it occurs to me that maybe the fencing is to keep sugar addicts out. It’s true that I would certainly do a lot for maple syrup, food of the gods.

The plane trees in the square are some of the oldest in London , and are certainly some of the stoutest. Many of them look as if all the weight has settled on their bottom halves. I can relate.

This one, to the left of the path, is particularly splendid. I had no idea that plane trees could grow into such robustness.

At the bottom of the path there’s an area planted with some very unusual tropical plants. As I nearly needed a machete to get through it’s safe to say that it isn’t much populated. My eye was much taken by this furry plant, hiding in the grove like a skinnier version of Chewbacca. If you know what it is, please tell!

And then, I leave the Fields and head towards Lincoln’s Inn itself.

The gates to Lincoln’s Inn

And I couldn’t have been more astonished to see this handsome chap.

This is a Harris hawk, one of two that are regularly flown in the area to try to deter the seagulls who have been digging up the lawns for worms and dive-bombing the lawyers on their way to and from their chambers. I had a great conversation with  the falconer who flies the birds, and found out a good deal about them. For one thing, they are weighed before being flown, because this gives an indication of how hungry they are, and how ready they will be to fly – a heavy hawk is more likely to disappear into a tree or not fly at all. The male hawk is very fond of the leather falconer’s glove (the falconer thinks that the bird likes the glove more than him), and comes readily to the hand of anyone who wears it, while the female bird is much more nervous around strangers, gloved or not.

The female is in moult at the moment, hence her slightly shabby look. Female hawks are always a good bit bigger than the males.

The female Harris hawk

These birds really are built to take small mammals rather than birds – the male hawk was recovering from a bite on the leg from a rat which he had taken before the falconer was able to separate them. Look at those talons! The beak is built for tearing, the eyes are protected by a ridge of bone which both keeps the sun out of their eyes and gives some protection from thrashing prey.

And then I got a chance to actually fly the bird! Glove on the left hand and arm outstretched (away from the face, just in case), I watched as the bird swept in and landed on the glove to tear into a morsel of food. The falconer said that there always has to be food, otherwise the bird (particularly the female) feels as if a deal has been broken. It’s not unheard of for her to head off into a tree and sit there for hours until she feels that her point has been made. It’s all about trust: these are never really tamed, these birds. After all, they could just fly off if the urge took them. They come back because their primary motivation is food, and the falconer is the main supplier.

For wild birds, though, it’s more complicated. The falconer mentioned that peregrine falcons were nesting on the spire of the building behind Lincoln’s Inn, and that the Harris Hawks were very interested when they heard them. As I headed off on the rest of my walk, I heard the familiar mewing sound of peregrines, and took two photos on the off chance that they would at least show something. I got more than I expected.

In the picture below, you can see that there are three birds, one at the top, one to the right, and one perched at the bottom. I’m assuming that this is either a pair of peregrines and a fledgling, or an adult and a couple of fledglings.

And then there was another bout of mewing and I got a second shot. I showed it to the falconer and we both think this is a food drop, where a parent is teaching a youngster to hunt by dropping food for it, or where the male is dropping food for the female. Peregrines are the fastest animals in the world (achieving up to 200 mph in a full stoop) and have been known to attack eagles to force them away from a nest site. I was so lucky to see them, and so lucky to catch even these images.

So, what a spectacular day! And it’s not over yet. Tomorrow we’ll discover one of the loveliest London gardens that I’ve ever seen, and meet some more very venerable trees…

A Late-June Walk in St Pancras and Islington Cemetery

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Well, Dear Readers, there were no mammalian foxes in the cemetery today, but there was certainly lots of botanical fox and cubs (Pilosella aurantiaca), which is fast becoming my favourite June flower. Just look at it! Absolutely beautiful….

 

But there are lots of new things happening as well. The horse chestnuts have gone from upright to hanging down, in preparation for ripening and dropping to the ground.

And I noticed this rather fine lichen growing on an angel’s arm. Funny how it’s just in the one spot!

But this week really is insect week. The hogweed is attracting all sorts. Firstly, there are the trivial plant bugs that I wrote about last week. Apparently if they have white spots on the carapace and are largely green, they’re female (which I think these two are).

Some Trivial Plant Bugs (Closterotomus trivialis)

And then how about this handsome fellow? This is a male swollen-thighed beetle (Oedemera nobilis) – the female has much less impressive legs. The beetles feed on the pollen of the hogweed, and the young live in hollow plant stems.

Then they were joined by a long-horn beetle who was twice their size, but is equally harmless, feeding on pollen. I think this is a four-banded longhorn beetle (Leptura quadrifasciata).

We got great views of the buzzard riding the thermals today. For a good five minutes the bird circled in splendid isolation…

Until the crows started to appear to chase it out of town…

The salsify has gone over, leaving these fluffy seedheads…

But when we pop round to the toilets, there is fluff absolutely everywhere. There’s a hybrid black poplar, and the female catkins produce prodigious volumes of cotton wool.

Hybrid black poplar is (not surprisingly) black poplar crossed with American cottonwood. It makes for a rather lovely tree.

And here, for your delectation, is a film of the seeds falling, with an accompaniment of North Circular Road traffic. If you listen carefully, you can hear a wren bellowing above the din.

So, what else? There was this male Adonis blue butterfly (Polyammatus bellargus), which you can tell from the common blue by the chequerboard effect on the edges of the wings.

And there was this rather worn small copper butterfly (Lycaena phlaeas) – this species packs three generations into every year, so I’m thinking that this was a first generation insect who had already bred, and is now enjoying the sunshine.

On the plant front, there is the first of the meadow cranesbill (Geranium pratense) joining the many other cranesbills that are in flower at the moment.

And some of the graves are covered in sedums: there’s the white stonecrop (Sedum album) that looks like seaspray…

and reflexed stonecrop (Sedum rupestre). These two plants are confined to graves that have been covered with decorative stone chippings or gravel, which must make the perfect substitute for the scree slopes and shingle banks where you would normally find the plant.

And finally, another favourite member of the clover family, common birdsfoot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus), adding its yellow and orange flowers to the riot of colour in the grassy areas. I feel as if this week really has hit the peak for flowering in the cemetery. Let’s see if next week can outdo it!

A St Pauls Perambulation from London Tree Walks by Paul Wood – Part Two

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London plane tree in Bow Churchyard

Dear Readers, the second part of my tree walk features lots of plane trees. This is hardly a surprise in the middle of London, but what was startling was the size of some of them. Look at this one for example, in the courtyard of St Mary Le Bow, thought to be the ‘Bow Bells’ that Cockneys need to be born within the sound of (rather than the church at Bow in East London). However, spectacular as this is, there is another a few hundred metres away on the corner of Cheapside and Wood Street. This is the Cheapside Plane, a landmark for several hundred years, and a truly venerable tree.

The Cheapside Plane

In London Street Walks, Wood is of the view that the tree is likely to have been planted in the eighteenth century (there are older planes in the capital), and not only is it protected by local bye-laws, but the shops underneath it are too. The square that the tree stands in was the site of one of the 37 churches that was destroyed during the Great Fire of London: the tree also survived a direct hit during the Second World War. It stands with its roots in a very tiny, dark, damp square, surrounded on three sides by the fire escapes and air conditioning units of the adjacent buildings, but it looks healthy and strong. According to ‘The Great Trees of London’ it used to hold a rookery, but rooks are a very rare sight in even Greater London these days: it’s thought that the rooks left when the horses did, and when people no longer raised sheep locally. The rooks used the fur from these animals to line their nests, and the fact that the last major stronghold of rooks in the capital is close to Richmond Park, with its large herds of deer, supports this theory.

The shadows of the branches of the Cheapside Plane on nearby buildings.

At the end of Wood Street lies a most peculiar tower: this is St Alban Wood Street, all that remains of a Wren church destroyed in the Blitz. The tree at the bottom is a nettle tree (Celtis australis) which can live for 1000 years in its native Southern Europe, but is often seen off by the frosts in the UK. I imagine that living in the middle of an urban heat island must be helping this one to survive, The building is now a private residence, and I would give several eye teeth to have a look inside and see how they’ve managed to make it  habitable.

 

I love how the new and old buildings in London suddenly come into stark juxtaposition. Sadly I haven’t noted down which church this is, but I’m sure you get the general idea.

On I go to St Mary Aldermanbury, close to the Guildhall and site of a rather splendid copper beech.

But I managed to miss the Judas Tree, which I’d written about in an earlier post. Still, it’s looking very healthy, and there’s always next year. I’ve always wanted to see the magenta flowers bursting out from the branches and even the trunk. My tree book describes them as ‘budding endearingly’, and who could resist such a description? I must make a date in my diary.

Judas Tree (Cercis siliquastrum)

And now, here’s a thing, and many thanks to Wood for pointing it out. As you walk around the corner onto Aldermanbury Square, there are some plane trees which are being trained into a kind of pergola, akin to a wisteria or a vine. I imagine that this is a phenomenal amount of work – as we know, plane trees seem to want to grow up, rather than out. The shadows are very fine, however, and several people were enjoying a sandwich and a coffee under their shade. I was a little flabbergasted that plane trees could be ‘persuaded’ to grow in such a way, and I did wonder why the planners hadn’t chosen something more amenable to this kind of treatment, but I guess that only time will tell.

There are some Himalayan birch on the other side of the square, bang smack up against the hoardings for a major refurbishment of the Brewer’s Hall, rebuilt after the Great Fire of London so probably in need of some tender loving care. I have a strong suspicion that a couple of the birches have been removed to make room for the skips, though.

Himalayan birch plus skip.

On the other side of the passageway that skirts the Brewer’s Hall I stopped to listen to a blackbird singing from somewhere very high up. I thought that it might be in the Honey Locusts that shaded the spot, but I couldn’t see it. Maybe it was on top of one of the many, many cranes. I paused to look at this statue of ‘The Gardener’, by Swedish sculptor Karin Jonzen. It looked very familiar to me, and when I did some research I discovered why – he used to be in the gardens at Moorgate where I would often meet Mum before we travelled home together. Now he’s in this shady spot next to a building site, serenaded by blackbirds.

On I go, under the Terry Farrell-built Alban Gate and past Richard Rogers’s ’88 Wood Street’ with its brightly coloured steam-ship inspired heating outlets.

Air conditioning by Sir Richard Rogers

I pause to have a quick look at the Roman Wall on Noble Street, uncovered by war damage in the Second World War and now surrounded by a rather nice mixture of wildflowers of various kinds and ferns.

The Roman Walls

Trailing bellflower on part of the Roman Wall

On the roundabout there are some Chinese Red Birches, which Wood explains can be distinguished by the reddish-brown bark on the younger branches. They are a welcome sight in this traffic-heavy, intensely urban area.

Chinese Red Birch (Betula albosinensis)

But, Dear Readers, there is one more thing that I want to share with you, but to do it justice, I’m going to leave it until tomorrow. Not far to go now, I promise!

A St Paul’s Perambulation from London Tree Walks by Paul Wood – Part One

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St Paul’s Cathedral with American Sweet Gum

Dear Readers, I have a great affection for the City of London, with its strange mixture of skyscrapers and old churches, broad avenues and higgledy-piggledy backstreets. As you might remember, when I was first going into the office at the Bloomberg building, I was desperate to find some green space, and finally managed it, so today I felt a strange urge to go and see what was happening. It was almost as if it might not be there, just because I hadn’t been there to see it.

I wanted to have some purpose rather than just a wander, so I took my cue from Paul Wood’s (relatively) new book, ‘London Tree Walks‘. Regular readers will remember that I did one of his walks from an earlier book and goodness only knows why I haven’t done some of the others because it’s a great way to pay attention to the magnificent trees that are all around us. This walk is a circular one from St Pauls, and I did a detour to check that my workplace did, in fact exist.

The walk begins in St Paul’s churchyard, but there was a small problem.

I can only assume that opening hours are more limited because of the Covid restrictions, but some signage explaining this would be good. However, I was undeterred – I particularly wanted to see the American Sweet Gum, because Wood points out that this has become a popular City street tree in the past few years. On Cheapside, the main route from St Pauls to the Bank of England, there are American Sweet Gums on the northern side of the road, and Spathe’s Alders on the shadier southern side. The one at the side of St Paul’s, though is truly spectacular. I have been doing a few calculations. The height of the top of the dome of St Pauls is 365 feet, and the dome itself is 278 feet tall. That means that the main building is about 87 feet tall and, although it’s not clear from the photo, the tree is nearly to the top of the windows.

American sweet gums can reach 45 metres tall, so this one is just a baby (it was planted just after the Second World War). However, they love swampy ground, which is clearly not available around St Paul’s, and the trees are also relatively short-lived. Nonetheless, this tree is a cracker even if I had to view it from outside the churchyard, and apparently its autumn colour is really something to behold, so I shall have to go back.

And how about this? Can anyone guess what it is?

How about now?

This is a tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipfera var Aureomarginata) and I think I was either just too late to catch it in full flower, or it didn’t have a great year – as we know, trees don’t always flower prolifically every year, and maybe this one is having a break. And who would blame it? This, too was an impressive tree, and as they can grow to nearly 200 feet tall I’m sure they need to put at least some of their energy into bark and woody stuff.

Then it’s across the road in the general direction of Tate Modern, and something was going on with these ladies in red. One reason that I love London so much is that there’s always something out of the ordinary to see. Last time I was around St Pauls, some photographers were using it as a backdrop for some pictures of a Chinese bride, and very lovely she looked too. Apparently having your photo taken in your wedding dress in front of a variety of iconic buildings is all the rage in China at the moment.

And if you want a little clip of the dancing, here we go…

Anyone who wants to point out that I missed a trick by not getting a photo with St Paul’s as the backdrop is probably right, but I was on a bit of a mission to find trees, as you will hear.

I made a brief stop to visit another North American tree, a Pin Oak on Old Change Court.

Pin Oak (Quercus palustris)

Pin oaks are part of the red oak family, and this is another tree that will look wonderful when autumn comes. But what’s this ‘Trees for Liveries’ business? A bit of digging has made some progress: The Liveries Wood Group is a collaboration between the five Livery companies who use wood in their craft, the Carpenters, Turners, Furniture Makers, Upholders and Joiners & Ceilers. The group exists to promote the use of wood, and protect this natural resource. So while I haven’t quite got to the bottom of exactly what was going on when this tree was planted, it’s interesting to know that these ancient companies, who go back to the Medieval period, are still promoting their skills.

Incidentally, an Upholder is an Upholsterer. Who knew?

Retracing my steps, I pass a row of recently planted Italian alders. I am very fond of alders, as you know, but the UK species likes wet feet, which they wouldn’t get here. My tree guide describes it as a tree of ‘vigour and polish’, and it is certainly doing very well, even though it’s the shady side of the road.

Italian Alders (Alnus cordata)

Then I nip down Distaff Lane, and pass the church of St Nicholas Cole Abbey, with its clear glass windows.

Then it’s time to cross Queen Victoria Street to visit an old favourite haunt, the Cleary Garden. This is a bittersweet place for me: when I was in my thirties I would sometimes meet Mum for lunch here, and I can still see her sitting on a bench with a sandwich. There is a new office building with some Snakebark Maples outside – I would never have noticed the astonishing stripy bark if Wood hadn’t mentioned it.

Snakebark maples

And then it’s into the Cleary Garden. There aren’t as many people around for sure (though to go by the queues outside some of the sandwich shops you wouldn’t necessarily think that), and the garden is so peaceful that I can sit down and commune with the swamp cypress (the first one I ever saw).

I’d already seen a wren singing its head off in the cypress, and I could hear baby birds, so I wasn’t so surprised to see this.

The great tits have some babies, and handily there’s a great selection of bird feeders right next door, enclosed in a cage to keep the squirrels and the big birds out.  How handy to have everything that you need right on your doorstep! My only worry would be dispersal – there are lots of trees around, but there are also a lot of crows and seagulls who love a tasty fledgling if they can catch one. Good luck, great tits!

And before I start on the second half of my walk, I pop down to my workplace to see how it’s looking. Quiet would be one description. The complicated fountain outside, meant to represent the river Walbrook which runs under the building, is fenced off for repairs yet again. Another part of the fountain has several workmen sitting in it and lovingly trowelling the gunk out of the spigots.

But here’s a thing! My favourite City pizza place has survived. Fingers crossed that we’ll be able to have a team get together soon…

And now, it’s time to cross the road and head towards one of my favourite trees in the whole of London. But for that, folks, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow….

 

Wednesday Weed – Meadow Vetchling

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Meadow Vetchling (Lathyrus pratensis)

Dear Readers, one of the things that I love about St Pancras and Islington Cemetery is the sheer variety of habitats. We have damp woodland and dry woodland, grasslands and scrub, meadowy bits and watery bits, and I think it’s probably the best place for plants of anywhere locally because it is relatively little visited. When I saw the meadow vetchling this week it really made me think of the meadows of Austria, which are full of ‘beans’ – members of the Fabaceae family, such as clovers and trefoils and peas. These plants are able to process the nitrogen in the atmosphere (or rather, the bacteria in their root nodules are) and as such are a great help in returning the fertility to the soil. Plus, they are very popular with bees and pollinators of all kinds.

Meadow vetchling is also known as ‘meadow pea’ and ‘fingers and thumbs’. It’s a scrambler, which means that it intertwines with other plants, creating a tangled web of stems.  A similar thing is going on underground – the plant proliferates via rhizomes, which can reach up to 7 metres in length. The seedpods ripen to black, which is a good way of identifying them once the flowers have gone. The plant is native to the whole of Europe and Asia, but has also been introduced to North America, and is doing particularly well in Alaska and Oregon.

Photo One by By Didier Descouens - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=105462864

Meadow Vetchling (Photo One)

The flowers of all vetches are very particular and, botanists being how they are, you won’t be surprised to hear that the different parts of the bloom have specific names. In the flower below, the petal at the top is known as the ‘standard’, the two petals below are the ‘wings’, and the bottom two petals, which are joined together, are known as the ‘keel’.

Photo Two by By Ivar Leidus - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=96576036

Meadow vetchling flower (Photo Two)

Meadow vetchling is also the food plant for the caterpillar of the wood white butterfly (Leptidea sinapsis). This is the most delicate of our white butterflies, and has declined in number, largely because plants such as the meadow vetchling will not thrive in the complete cover of a mature woodland, and because so often the understorey of woods is neglected until only holly and the odd yew bush remain.

The male performs an extensive courtship ritual to attract the female, who is very choosy – the female will only mate once in her life, whereas the male will try to mate with as many females as possible. The males dance involves fluttering his wings and extending his proboscis. If the female remains still, it means that she’s either already mated or isn’t interested, but if she is attracted to the male she will move her abdomen in his general direction.

Photo Three by By Feel free to use my photos, but please mention me as the author and if you want send me a message. or (rufre@lenz-nenning.at) - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 at, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25277317

Wood White Butterflies courting (Photo Three)

The wood white lays her eggs only on meadow vetchling and one or two species of trefoil. If given the choice, she prefers tall plants, and will lay more eggs on lanky specimens. The butterfly identifies the species of plant through chemoreceptors on her feet, and flies low over the foliage, occasionally touching down on a leaf to see if it’s the right one. The caterpillars, when they hatch, are beautifully camouflaged against the vetchling leaves. I wonder if the conditions in the cemetery would be right for wood whites? However, they tend to be local and are not expert fliers, so this would be a bit of a stretch. Plus, I’m not sure how far the gardeners at the cemetery use pesticides – fortunately the wilder bits look as if they aren’t sprayed.

Photo Four by By Gilles San Martin - Flickr: Leptidea sinapis egg, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17005838

Egg of the Wood White butterfly (Photo Four)

In Ireland, meadow vetchlng is said to repel mice (and is known as mouse-pea in Donegal), and was also used to feed cattle in the past. But although the plant has been used medicinally to ease coughs and bronchitis, it is also said to be poisonous, causing a condition called lathyrism which can paralyse the limbs of human beings or grazing animals. However, you would have to eat an awful lot of the ‘peas’ to get this effect, so no reason to be pulling it up just yet!

And finally, a poem. This feels just right for the days after the summer solstice (here in the Northern Hemisphere anyway), as the year turns yet again. I hadn’t heard of K.V. Skene before, but she’s a Canadian poet, and I love this poem. I can just imagine every flower as she mentions it. My head is full of yellow blossom.

I am drinking yellow flowers

by K.V. Skene

After ‘At the Quinte Hotel’ – Al Purdy

daffodils       forsythia       marsh marigolds
the mellow meadow vetchling
last year’s dandelion wine       yesterday

I unfriended Facebook       Twitter       LinkedIn       quit
http://www.youtube.com       cached the laptop       iPhone       Fitbit
and hit the road unravelled       today

I am drinking buttercups       loosestrife
birdsfoot trefoil       lesser celandine       so long ago
those honeysuckle days

so short these sunflower years

Photo Credits

Photo One By Didier Descouens – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=105462864

Photo Two By Ivar Leidus – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=96576036

Photo Three by By Feel free to use my photos, but please mention me as the author and if you want send me a message. or (rufre@lenz-nenning.at) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 at, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25277317

Photo Four By Gilles San Martin – Flickr: Leptidea sinapis egg, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17005838

Thunderstorm Asthma

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Photo One by By Dartmouth Electron Microscope Facility, Dartmouth College - Source and public domain notice at Dartmouth Electron Microscope Facility ([1], [2]), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14840522

Pollen from a variety of common plants: sunflower (Helianthus annuus, small spiky sphericals, colorized pink), morning glory (Ipomoea purpurea, big sphericals with hexagonal cavities, colorized mint green), hollyhock (Sildalcea malviflora, big spiky sphericals, colorized yellow), lily (Lilium auratum, bean shaped, colorized dark green), primrose (Oenothera fruticosa, tripod shaped, colorized red) and castor bean (Ricinus communis, small smooth sphericals, colorized light green). The image is magnified some x500, so the bean shaped grain in the bottom left corner is about 50 μm long. (Photo One)

Dear Readers, I was recently intrigued (and a little disquieted) to learn that people with asthma often suffer attacks (known as bronchospasms) following local thunderstorms, to such an extent that hospitals can be overwhelmed. I know that atmospheric conditions such as pollution can exacerbate many conditions, especially those that affect the heart and lungs, but the link with storms was a new one to me. Whilst my mother always maintained that the prelude to a thunderstorm always brought on a migraine, and my dad’s breathing was clearly worse in London than in Dorset, I was curious to see what was causing ‘thunderstorm asthma’.

Firstly, we need to consider pollen. Pollen contains the precursors to the male sperm of a plant, and needs to combine with an ovule (the female part) in order to germinate. The pollen is protected by a double-layered wall, and in the case of wind-pollinated plants ( known as anemophilous, which literally means ‘wind-loving’) the pollen may also contain an air-sac, to make it more buoyant. Grasses, ferns and many trees are wind-pollinated, and the majority of fungi add to the mix by producing spores. These fine, light particles are what makes life so miserable for hay fever sufferers.

However, one factor in thunderstorm asthma seems to be that many of the people who present at the hospitals are not normally asthma sufferers, though they often have hay fever. And there seems to be little doubt that storms are implicated. This study looked at incidents from the UK, Canada, USA and Australia. The Canadian report noted that emergency admissions for asthma made up between 5 and 17% of the total during thunderstorm periods, as opposed to only 2% normally. In Melbourne, the number of admissions for bronchospasms during two thunderstorms in different years were 154 and 277, compared with a non-thunderstorm count of 26 patients. This can lead to a crisis, with not enough nebulizers or steroids available, as happened in some of the UK events. Unfortunately, one episode of thunderstorm asthma can trigger subsequent attacks in people who had never had asthma before – one doctor believes that such an episode can hypersensitise the lungs, making them constrict in conditions such as cold weather.

So what’s going on? Thunderstorms are intensely active events. At the start of a storm, there’s a substantial updraft of air, which drags pollen, spores and other kinds of particulates up into the clouds. After a storm, there’s a subsequent downdraft as air rushes out of the storm area and back to earth. One theory is that the energy and moisture of the storm is enough to break down the pollen granules, resulting in much smaller particles (including ‘paucimicronic starch grains’ which are a particularly potent allergen). Normally, pollen is trapped by the nasal hairs, which mean that you might get a runny nose and eyes, but your breathing is unaffected. These broken-down particles can penetrate deep into the lungs, causing asthma attacks even amongst people who have never suffered from them before.

Scientists also think that such particles might be deposited in rain particles, and are then released after the water evaporates (often the way in a summer storm). A final consideration is that the electrical conditions in a storm might charge the broken-down particles in such a way that they are actually attracted deep into the lungs.

So, what to do? Given the possibility of local medical services being overwhelmed, there was some hope that an early warning system might be possible (such as those in the UK which give pollen levels and UV levels) but the situation is, as ever, more complicated. Not every storm causes thunderstorm asthma, and there is a nuanced dance between the location of the storm, the amount of pollen present, the levels of other kinds of pollution and the presence of fungal spores, which are just being recognised as another potential cause. It seems fairly clear that the spores produced by certain kinds of mould (such as the Cladosporium family) and by some plant pathogens (fungi in the Alternaria family, which include a variety of blights and cankers) can already cause hay fever, and are possibly the ‘smoking gun’ in outbreaks of thunderstorm asthma.

Photo Two by By http://phil.cdc.gov/phil_images/20030612/9/PHIL_3963_lores.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=763300

Spores of an Alternaria fungus (Photo Two)

It seems that we need a lot more research on what’s going on with asthma and thunderstorms, especially as, with climate change, we’re likely to be getting a lot more of the latter. At the moment, the main advice for asthma sufferers seems to be ‘stay indoors with the windows closed and make sure you’ve got your inhaler’. Meanwhile, there seems to be more awareness in health services globally that thunderstorms can cause more health problems than the occasional lightning strike. Yet again, we can see how closely intertwined human beings are with the planet as a whole, which is always worth remembering.

Photo Three from https://www.abc.net.au/news/health/2020-10-29/thunderstorm-asthma-event-in-covid-19/12795236

A public health poster on thunderstorm asthma from Australia (Photo Three)

 

CreditsThunderstorm asthma: an overview of the evidence base and implications for public health advice 

Thunderstorm asthma season is on now. Are we ready for another event if it happens during Covid-19?

Photo One By Dartmouth Electron Microscope Facility, Dartmouth College – Source and public domain notice at Dartmouth Electron Microscope Facility ([1], [2]), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14840522

Photo Two By http://phil.cdc.gov/phil_images/20030612/9/PHIL_3963_lores.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=763300

Photo Three from https://www.abc.net.au/news/health/2020-10-29/thunderstorm-asthma-event-in-covid-19/12795236

Well, It’s Not All Bad….

3 Replies

Teasel

Dear Readers, I have never grown teasel before and so I was delighted to see that it looks for all the world like a group of happily cheering people, rather like the ones below. The meme is 100% me 🙂

But what I wanted to say was that although a stem of my angelica plant has tumbled over, it has been instantly colonised. First of all the aphids came – I think this really backs up the argument of many organic gardeners, who say that plants that are weakened are much more likely to support masses of pests. The main, living part of my plant appears to be completely aphid-free.

And then these spiny predators turned up.

This is a harlequin ladybird larva. It’s true that harlequins are rather less picky about what they eat than other ladybirds, and that they are outcompeting our native species, but it’s much too late to worry about that now. This one was positively shovelling his way through the greenfly, leaving nothing behind but their poor, parched corpses. See, I told you this was a cheerful post.

And the head of the plant was alive with bugs – I am hoping that this chap was, joy of joys, a Trivial Plant Bug (Closterotomus trivialis), just for the sheer happiness of having a trivial insect in the garden. However, bugs are extraordinarily difficult to identify, so I’m prepared a) to be wrong and b) to be told that these two insects were different species. Hopefully one of them also likes aphids.

And then I spotted this fly. It seems to be a tachinid fly – this is a group of parasitic flies who lay their eggs on the larvae of other insects. My insect book mentions that some species can be ‘abundant on hogweed and angelica’. Who knew? I just thought that they were houseflies, and had no idea that they had such interesting lives. Apparently they find their host caterpillars, lay their eggs in the vicinity or actually on the larvae, and when the eggs hatch the flylets (a new word that I just made up) burrow their way in and eat away. One species, Phasia hemiptera, eats shieldbugs, so I am just wondering if this is what was going on.

In other news, the magpie fledglings have hatched, and very demanding they are too. My neighbours are a bit unhappy about the noise, and it’s true that these birds don’t have the sweetest of singing voices, and also that they get up very very early (the birds, not the neighbours). Here is one of the adults and a youngster on the television aerial opposite. I rather like that late evening light.

And finally, here is a rare find. My lavender is just coming into flower, and I noticed a most unusual bee feeding from it. Look how furry it is!

This is a wool carder bee (Anthidium manicatum) – if you have lambs-ears (Stachys) in your garden, you might see these bees gathering the hairs in order to form a nest ball – only the females do this, while the males (unusually for insects these are larger than the females) may establish a territory above a patch of flowers, and will do battle with any other bees, hoverflies or other flying invertebrates that appear. Fighting might involve head-butting, wrestling or using their abdominal spines to crush an intruder into submission. This individual hasn’t reappeared (yet) – they have a great liking for woundworts of various kinds and black horehound, along with other dead nettles, so maybe they are hanging out somewhere else. I actually gave away several lots of stachys earlier in the year, so maybe my neighbours will be reaping the benefits. Do watch out for these bees, they are a real treat, and with those hairy legs they’re (relatively) easy to tell from your average bumblebee.