Garlic Mustard (Allaria petiolata) is a self-seeding biennial that seems to be particularly prolific this year. The leaves do indeed have a mild taste of garlic and mustard. 

 Thrives in the semi-shade of woodland glades and margins and along hedge banks. Equally at home in town and city in corresponding conditions.

 Three Bluebell woods (and two pubs). I began by following the same route as Wednesday's walk starting in St. Paul's Walden. At the Strathmore Arms to be precise. Today was sunnier and I knew the Bluebells would be glowing even brighter.

 Hitch Wood (above) is one of three great locales for Bluebells all within a few miles of each other. Each has a different character. Hitch Wood is sloping and the blue haze rolls across it.

 I walked on to Preston and stopped for a pint at the Red Lion. Then on to Wain Wood, carpeted with Bluebells, not so open as Hitch, very atmospheric.

 Then over to West Wood for a staggering display. But here is a curiosity: Bluebells are found in ancient woods whereas West Wood is a plantation (i.e. twentieth century) albeit with some semi-natural woodland on the margins. I reckon it was formerly an old wood which was felled and re-planted for timber production. The ancient trees are gone but the Bluebells remain. The sea of Bluebells among rows of conifers makes for an interesting contrast.

 So, three of my favourite places to see Bluebells and two of my favourite pubs all in the same walk!

Bugle (Ajuja reptans) is a common wildflower but not all that common in Hertfordshire in my estimation. I came across a rather fine display yesterday when I walked through Hill End Chalk Pit on the way to Hitch Wood.

 A. reptans spreads by means of rooting runners. The flower spike is only a few inches tall with a rosette of oval leaves at the base. Various cultivars are available, often recommended as ground cover plants. The wild form weaves its way through grass and other low growing plants popping up here and there.

 Postscript 26th. April. I walked this way again and photographed the Bugle in brighter light:

 It always thrills me to catch the first glimpse of Bluebells in flower. My starting point today was St. Paul's Walden in Hertfordshire. From there I walked a short stretch of the Chiltern Way to approach Hitch Wood from the south. I soon spotted a violet-blue haze in a clearing at the edge of the wood.

 In fact my first sighting of Bluebells was last week from the window of a train between Hitchin and London. The line passes a pocket of woodland near Brookman's Park which I noticed was carpeted with Bluebells. Ordinarily I would expect to see the peak flowering at the end of April/beginning of May so they are two or three weeks early this year.

 The sight of Bluebells cheered up my commute but needless to say I wanted to immerse myself in them (forest bathing?) and Hitch Wood didn't disappoint. Even on a cloudy day the drifts of our native Hycinthoides non-scripta glowed among the trunks and bracken.

 Interesting how the growth habit of plants varies from year to year. For example the stems of these Bergenia cordifolia at the music school seem particularly tall and sturdy compared to previous years. Probably due to the wet winter and early spring?

 

 Nectar guides are patterns that direct pollinators into a flower to feed and thereby pollinate. In the case of Lamium orvala the guide looks rather like a leering tongue! It attracts bumblebees into the clam-like flower; indeed only bumblebees have the size and strength to shoulder their way in. 

Red Campion (Silene dioica)

 Glorious in the garden down South London way over the weekend...

Apple blossom

Star of Bethlehem

Bluebells

White Comfrey and Green Alkanet

Lilac

Greater Stitchwort

Honesty

 Speaking of Honesty -the plant that is- here is another variation. The white and purple flowered forms mentioned in my previous entries are biennial despite their Latin name Lunaria annua. 

 The species seen here is the perennial Lunaria rediviva (with some white and purple L. annua to the right of the frame). The flowers of perennial Honesty are in hues of pale pink as if white with a purple blush which highlights their delicate veining. 

 The purple flowered form of Honesty (Lunaria annua) is more common than the white [see last entry]. Originally from southern Europe, it has naturalised widely. John Gerrard's 'Herball' of 1597 noted that it could be found "wilde in the woods about Pinner and Harrow on the Hill, twelve miles from London".

The white flowered form of Honesty (Lunaria annua). Biennial, self-seeds busily.

 Interesting that "naturalistic" planting seems to have become the default aesthetic in urban planning. Case in point I was walking through London's new 'Embassy Quarter'. A large industrial area that stretched from Vauxhall Bridge to Battersea has been erased to create a different kind of concrete jungle. The blocks and towers are interspersed with landscaped sections and large herbaceous borders. 

 NB the edifice in the background which looks like a multi-storey car park is in fact the American Embassy. Along one perimeter of the building there is a good example of how to combine naturalistic planting with a bleak and dystopian vision of the future. 

The English countryside from the window of a London bound train.

 Bird bath. I parked a wheelbarrow on the allotment a couple of weeks ago; several rain showers have deposited an inch or two of water in it. I noticed this Blackbird washing itself with a flapping of wings and general splish splashing in the shallows. When gardening with nature in mind it's worth remembering: water is life.

 I quoted William Robinson  -Victorian horticulturalist and author of 'The Wild Garden'- in a recent entry concerning Summer Snowflakes. He said "they should be in any collection of British wildflowers" adding "and with them the Daffodil and the Wood-tulip (Tulipa sylvestris)."

 I know it as the Wild Tulip, though here it is planted by me on the wildflower patch on the allotment. It certainly looks wilder than the Tulips that grow in many an urn and flower border. I'm not sure how it attained the ephithet sylvestris because it needs to grow in a sunny spot as far as I can tell. 

 These days T. sylvestris is thought to be an introduction from the continent that naturalised centuries ago in meadows in central and eastern England.

 Good to be back gardening at the music school a couple of times a week. Their bee hives are buzzing. The gardens have been designed and maintained by my friend Jif over several decades but the beekeeper is Ashley who as it happens is one of my neighbours at the allotment.

 The main school building was once a grand house and certain facets of the original garden still exist. For example the white haze of Blackthorn dates from an earlier era- possibly a hedge run wild and become a thicket? All those flowers are manna for the bees...

 White Comfrey (Symphytum orientale) is non native to these shores, nonetheless has naturalised and grows wild here. In North Hertfordshire for example it has increased from sporadic to prolific during the past few decades. I used to spot it here and there, now I see it all over the place (which is fine by me). Mostly it grows in the ground though not always...

 Many entries to this diary are rather local to my localities, Hertfordshire and London in particular. It's best to speak of what you know. For example Gilbert White's much loved and pioneering book 'The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne' concerned his own parish.

 Anyway I took a stroll from my home town of Hitchin and noticed the River Hiz was as full and fast flowing as I can recall it. I walked out to the source of the Hiz not far from the village of Charlton.

 The spot where it rises is generally no more than a damp dell. Usually the river begins as a shallow stream flowing from a farm pond about a hundred yards from here. Indeed the pond itself is often just a muddy sump. Lately however a headwater has formed, testament to the wet winter we have had.

 I didn't have a very close view from the road so I circled round to the other side via a footpath behind the aptly named Wellhead Farm. Along these low hills the Chilterns escarpment slopes down to the flatness of East Anglia.

 Water seeps through the chalk bedrock at this spot. Clear spring water, not runoff.

 I could see ripples on the surface where the river rises.

 Over the course of a mile or so the Hiz becomes a fully fledged meander through fields and several wet woodlands with marshy margins. Then it is channelled where it passes through Hitchin. One of the defining characteristics of the town is that a river runs through it. From the late nineteenth century the introduction of a railway line became more significant and latterly several major roads and a nearby motorway.

 But the Hiz is still a feature feeding as it does into the River Ivel about ten miles away and ultimately into the River Great Ouse towards the Wash and the North Sea. Notably, the Hiz is a chalk stream. There are said to be 210 chalk streams globally, 160 of them are in England and a good many of those are in the 'Southern England Chalk Formation'.

 No doubt there is something to be said for the Nile, the Yangtze and the Mississippi but they are not chalk streams. So I consider my journey to the source of the Hiz to be a successful expedition.

 It seems like the shed on the allotment may have visitors. Well, I call it the shed but in size it's more like an outdoor cupboard. In fact I don't keep much in there but today I opened the door to get a trowel and noticed was a nest inside. I'm sure it wasn't there before; nesting season is already underway with the mild spring we're having.

 Needless to say the door is kept shut but this dangling bit of slat creates an opening.

 I took a quick pic, not very distinct in the low light but I wanted to close the door as quickly as possible so as not to disturb. A beautifully smooth and rounded bowl has been formed within a mass of dry leaves and stems on top of an old packing crate.

 No eggs yet and no sign of a bird. A pair of Robins were very active around the allotment as I was digging earlier, perhaps it's theirs? Robins are known for liking open fronted nests (which this is in a way) and they sometimes nest close to the ground which seems like a risky strategy. 

 There was a Robin's nest in the garden shed of a friend of mine a few years ago. Low enough unfortunately for a local cat to get in and do what cats do. The opening in this shed is small so should be reasonably secure.

 I hope I haven't scared the new occupants away; I'll keep the door closed and see what happens. It's a small shed but a large nesting box (hopefully). 

 Primrose time. I imagine the Common Primrose (Primula vulgaris) was probably one of the first plants to cross from being a wild species to a cultivated one. I feel sure the cottage gardens and flowery meads of old would have propagated the Primrose from the surrounding countryside. And to this day P. vulgaris is both a prolific wildflower and a popular garden plant.