Dorset's spring wildflowers were a cheering sight as I walked out West last weekend.

 Primroses were blooming all over the place in sunny lanes.

And shady hollows.

 Snowdrops were still in flower in occasional clusters.

  Our native Wild Daffodil pops up here and there.

 Tough thorny Gorse bushes clothe the hills and heaths in yellow. 

 In nearby woods and hedge-banks dainty Wood Anemones rise from the mossy leaf litter.

 Lesser Celandine is prolific anywhere its starry flowers can open wide for the sun.

"There's a flower that shall be mine/'Tis a little celandine." Wordsworth

  Lungworts. Rare round here it seems but exquisite.

 Wood Anemones (Anemone nemorosa) carpet the slopes of Lesnes Abbey Wood. This is my third visit in as many weeks to this survival of ancient woodland now surrounded on all sides by the bricks and mortar of south East London.
 In my entry dated 16th. March I described the remarkable colony of native Wild Daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus) that persists here. On 20th. March I observed that extensive patches of Wood Anemones were coming into flower. Returning today they are fully in bloom.
 A sunny morning was in the offing and bright light raked across the landscape. The bare trees and hollows still cast deep shadows and clouds breezed across the face of the sun. When light levels are low the flowers stay closed and nod downwards. As the light increases the white (sometimes pinkish) petals open; the flowers look up and the bright yellow stamens are revealed, pointing to the sky.
 This will not be my last visit. I don't know how many thousands of Narcissus and Anemone there are but their number is dwarfed by the number of green shoots of Bluebells I saw coming through. In late April/early May I expect Abbey Wood to be the proverbial sea of blue...     

 Today is National Weed Appreciation Day in the United States and parts of south London. No, I am not talking about the kind you smoke listening to your Santana records. I am talking about plants that are regarded as weeds. As I have said before: a list of weeds and a list of wildflowers is pretty much the same list.
 Many have been put to some edible, medicinal or practical use over the centuries. And besides, weeds are beautiful. Don't dig the weeds man, I mean dig them but don't dig them if you know what I mean... 

 Holloways are an intriguing feature of West Dorset. I've been visiting this area since I was a child, crossing and re-crossing the rolling countryside many times. Each walk suggests another, some path not trodden before or some place well worth a return visit.
 Holloways are ancient routes made deep in the soft sandstone by their use over centuries in combination with the weathering action of the water that tends to drain along them. I had always referred to them as "sunken lanes" but I've become aware that various local sources call them "holloways". I note that a book on the subject written by Robert Macfarlane 5 or 10 years ago uses this term which may have revived and/or popularized it.
 At the weekend I had the chance for a short break from London so I decided to head for Albion and walk some Dorset holloways...

 The term sunken lane does seem appropriate in some cases, as they constitute a reasonably good surface for transit (and some have actually been made into tarmac roads).

 Then again there are those where the sense of a hollowed-out way is an apt description.

 There is a palpably primeval feel to these paths lined as they are with masses of ferns clinging to the sandstone sides. Ivy hangs down everywhere and among the evergreenery there are patches of Arum, Dog's Mercury, Ramsons and Bluebells whose spring foliage adds to the lushness. They will flower later in spring even in these shady confines.

 It adds to the otherworldly atmosphere of these places that the roots and undersides of trees become exposed as the sandstone washes away from beneath them. It's quite strange to be looking up at the part of the tree that should be down underground.

 These photos were taken following a holloway from Symondsbury via Quarry Cross that becomes Hell Lane (a name to conjure with) to North Chideock. From there I followed another holloway into the Marshwood Vale. I shall write a further entry on the subject because this locale forms the setting for one of my favourite novels, the thriller 'Rogue Male' published in 1939... 

 I planted Glory of the Snow (Chionodoxa forbesii) in the lawn to create a shimmer of blue beneath the yellow daffs. They are a native of Asia Minor where they emerge as the snow melts so they must have felt right at home in south London this year with the spring we've been having.
 This variety is called 'Blue Giant' being all of four or five inches high which is taller than the typical species. The regular bulbs are cheap as chips every autumn but these are not so common.
 They're proving to be popular with bumblebees when the sun comes out.

 NB I also included a smattering of the pink petaled variation which needless to say goes by the name of  'Pink Giant':

  

 Some recent tasks on the allotment. Various beds defined, dug over, weeded of couch grass, manured and ready for planting up in the weeks ahead. I can see the virtue of "no dig" approaches but I think it was worth having a good go at the couch grass at the outset; the allotment had been out of use for at least a year and it's extremely tenacious.

 Potatoes will be some of the first things to go in- four each of 8 varieties. No point in growing the standard shop potatoes so these are a selection of unusual varieties e.g. purple spuds, also several kinds of Sarpo potatoes which are said to be very resistant to blight. These are red spuds- I don't mean the colour, they originate from Hungary back in the days of the Iron Curtain.  
 I've got some seed potatoes chitting i.e. exposed to light ahead of planting to get shoots growing out of the 'eyes'. Some maintain it gives them a head start but others say it doesn't really matter so I'll try both ways.

 Comfrey is a great plant for the allotment. Bees love it and it's reckoned to be a nitrogen fixer with the leaves being full of goodness when composted or steeped in water.
 Conveniently some White Comfrey (Symphytum orientale) had self seeded into this pot a few years ago then clumped up. So it was easy to tip out the root ball and divide it to make four separate plants- one went back in the pot and the other three I planted into rough ground at the back of the allotment.

 A bit of basic outdoor carpentry. My father salvaged this pile of timber from a roof being gutted so I'm cutting a number of metre lengths that can be used to make various things in a modular mode e.g. raised beds, a cold frame, compost bins etc.

 A pond full of croaking frogs then frogspawn is a sure sign that spring is in the air (and the water)...

 Wood Anemones (Anemone nemorosa) are coming into flower alongside the Wild Daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus) of Lesnes Abbey Wood in south-east London which I detail in my recent entry below. The white flowers (sometimes flushed with pink) are popping up here and there from the leaf litter and amongst the daffodils.
 In fact a further visit will be in order in a week or so because I can see that the patches of feathery foliage spread extensively; the slopes should be massed with starry flowers when in full bloom.
 The presence of A. nemorosa in such profusion is a good indicator that this is an area of ancient woodland that became marooned by the expansion of London. The species is said to spread at a rate of about 6 feet every hundred years so the Anemones of Abbey Wood have been here for a long time...   

 Lesnes Abbey Wood is a survival of ancient landscape within the urban sprawl of south-east London. In Richard Mabey's seminal book 'Flora Britannica' it is described as "one of the nearest colonies of authentically wild flowers to London". In fact it is actually within Greater London bordered by Plumstead, Thamesmead and Erith.
 The ruins of Lesnes Abbey remain and the woods rise in sloping hills above them. At this time of year they are noted for swathes of Wild Daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus). It's far from the Lake District where Wordsworth saw his host of golden daffodils, but the same species.
 I shall try to return sometime next week. The daffodils should still be in flower and I noticed patches of Wood Anemones (Anemone nemorosa) among them. The foliage was showing and the flowers will probably unfurl a few days from now. The combination of the creamy yellow shades of Narcissi over a haze of white Anemones could be quite something.            

 Before and after. This Bay Tree (Laurus nobilis) was getting a bit big and starting to swamp the apple tree next to it so I gave it a haircut. Bays shape well with careful pruning and frankly there's only so many Bay leaves you can use in cooking so I'd rather have the apples.
 This seemed like a good time to do it. March is generally past the worst of the frosts (in London at least) and a shrub like this is still fairly dormant but about to put on a spurt of growth. I didn't want to leave it much later because there is invariably a Blackbird nesting in the heart of it from spring onwards. You would think this is a bit low to escape the attention of one of the neighbourhood's many moggies but it doesn't seem to be a problem.
 The apple tree itself is a trickier proposition. A previous resident trained it but then it was left for years to grow as it liked. Now it is neither the classic 'goblet' shape favoured by apple growers nor an ornamental shape though it flowers and fruits nicely (last year produced a particularly tasty crop). I settle for opening up the branch structure where possible and giving it a somewhat bulbous shape which seems to work ok.

 This is Narcissus Telamonius Plenus. I bought some from the specialist grower Shipton Bulbs who reckon that it is the double flowered form of the wild N. pseudonarcissus; as such it may be a cultivar but perhaps it is a naturally occurring mutation.
 They note it is similar to N. Van Sion which was introduced from Holland in the 17th. century; its actual origin may well be lost in the mists of time.   
  

 On raw March days daffodils provide the boldest splash of colour in the garden but here and there dainty but hardy spring flowers are coming into bloom: the vivid Pulmonaria Blue Ensign, creamy yellow Oxlips (Primula elatior) and bright pink Cardamine quinquefolia.   

 The thaw is here -for now- and these Crocuses (C. tommasinianus) keep on keeping on. They were flowering in the lawn before the snow came, were buried underneath it for several days and now show their heads like nothing happened.
 I don't usually quote myself in this diary but as I said in my entry about "Tommies" a couple of weeks ago: "They have an ethereal quality but they're tough: flowering in February they can withstand the last throes of winter".   

 The last time it snowed heavily in London was January 2013, as seen in these photos. In fact the volume and intensity was probably greater than now -at least here in south London- and created a beautiful contrast as it lay on the branches of the bare trees...

 Appropriately this is a Spring Snowflake (Leucojum vernum) photographed at the weekend in chilly sunshine. It's probably under snow at the moment.
 At first glance it could be taken for a Snowdrop, the white flowers with the green marking on the tips of the petals are very Galanthus-like. But it's taller and the yellow stamens are unlike Snowdrops. It also resembles the Summer Snowflake (Leucojum aestivum) which confusingly flowers in spring rather than summer despite its name.
 L. aestivum flowers later in spring however- see my entry of 18th. April 2017 concerning its native stronghold in Berkshire where it is known locally as the Lodden Lily. Since the above specimen is in full flower as of late February I assume it is indeed L. vernum.