A good harvest on the allotment: of Comfrey. I mentioned in a previous entry (27th. May) that there are big clumps of it on the allotment. It flowers heavily in late spring/early summer (mobbed by bees). Now the flowers have faded the foliage can be put to good use to fertilise the soil.
 Comfrey is rich in nitrogen, phosphorous and potassium. Some gardeners steep the leaves in water to make Comfrey tea. Others chop and drop i.e. spread it around as a mulch. I was intending to do the latter but since we are experiencing a drought I think it would just dry out and shrivel up. So I mixed the cuttings with some well rotted horse manure and I will use this as a composted mulch later in the season.
 And speaking of harvests I plucked some raspberries, redcurrants and gooseberries; also a few radishes, onions and shallots.

 Both the beneficial and dangerous properties of plants are apparent in this grouping in the garden (though that wasn't my intention when I planted them). In the foreground of the photograph above are the cheery yellow and white Daisy-like flowers of Feverfew (Tanacetum parthenium), and it is indeed of the Asteraceae i.e. Daisy family.
 Beyond basic botany I don't really address herbalism or modern medicine in this blog because I am not versed in either subject. Feverfew is interesting in this respect because traditionally it was regarded as a medicinal herb for headaches, colds, rheumatism, fevers and such; hence the name. It has also been the subject of a number of modern studies which agree that it can have a beneficial effect on conditions such as migraines albeit with the proviso of possible side effects in some cases e.g. if consumed by pregnant women.
 Continuing with this theme in the middle ground of the photo we see the lilac flowers of Goat's-rue (Galega officinalis):

 In folk medicine Goat's-rue was advocated for symptoms which we now associate with conditions like diabetes (and also to increase the yields of milk). Observation and study led to the conclusion that G. officinalis has adverse and somewhat toxic effects on humans but research continued into the compounds of the plant and derivatives from these became the basis of several modern drugs developed to tackle diabetes.
 As I understand it numerous modern medicines are synthesized from plant compounds yet there is a schism between advocates of "herbal" and "scientific" medicine. I can't help wondering if there couldn't be some common ground on both sides of the argument?
 On a cautionary note however in the background of the first photo we see the blue-indigo flowers of Monk's-hood (Aconitum napellus), a beautiful plant but poisonous:

 There are a good many plants popular in gardens and growing wild that have toxic properties- Foxgloves, Lily of the Valley and Delphiniums for example. Monkshood must be one of the most toxic. Eating any part of the plant would induce severe sickness and possibly be fatal. Apparently it tastes very unpalatable which is a warning of sorts though there have been rare incidents where it has been consumed with dire consequences.
 There was a tragic case widely reported a few years ago where a young man working as a gardener died from organ failure, and this was said to be a consequence of brushing against Monk's-hood.
 It was not widely reported that an open verdict was recorded at the subsequent inquest into the death of this unfortunate person and in fact the cause could not be determined. Various experts have expressed the view that Monk's-hood poisoning was not a viable explanation for what happened.
 There are accounts of incidents where florists have experienced nausea and other symptoms from skin contact when handling it but as far as I'm aware there is no plant so toxic that merely touching it will prove lethal.
 None the less Aconitum napellus is a reminder that plants have a very diverse chemistry. Some are nutritious, some can be medicinal but some have the potential to be harmful. 

 I paid a visit to Glengall Wharf Gardens this afternoon, a stone's throw from the Old Kent Road. It was indeed a wharf -when a spur of the Grand Surrey Canal ran through Peckham to the Camberwell Basin. Some years ago (decades after the canal was abandoned and drained) it was developed as a community garden.
 I went there to contribute to a workshop/discussion about the principles of Permaculture which are an important aspect of the ethos of the garden; an enjoyable afternoon with an interesting group of people.
 I took the opportunity to wander round and take a few photos. They have beehives there and I was particularly struck by something I saw. Several small ponds have been created and these were teeming with honey bees going back and forth sipping the water. Even bees need to drink!

  

 Red Valerian (Centranthus ruber) growing among rocks at the seaside. 

 Today is the Longest Day, the Summer Solstice. I'm with the Druids on this one, I can see why our ancient ancestors worshiped the sun and the moon.
 From the botanical point of view the Winter and Summer Solstice are the most significant dates on the calendar: the amount of daylight steadily increasing then steadily decreasing at these points affects and catalyses all aspects of a plant's existence. Yes, it makes a difference if for example we have a wet or dry year but above all else it's the sun, or perhaps I should say it's the sun in conjunction with everything else. I suspect all calendars began with this fundamental duality as our ancestors sought to understand our place in the cosmos.
 It's not quite Stonehenge but I walked up to Telegraph Hill at the top of my road, one of the highest points in South London with sweeping views of the city. I rarely include photographs of people or buildings in this diary but I will make an exception in this case. Dozens had gathered on the hill to see the sunset over the skyline. Clearly we still have a primitive urge to make for high ground and watch the Solstice sun go down beyond distant mountains...    

 The best things in life are free. Two pics I took last week- examples of the beautiful associations of colour that can occur when plants run wild.
 In the top image -taken by the kitchen door- the blue/mauve flowers and greenery of Trailing Bellflower (Campanula porscharskyana) scramble into the foliage of a clump of Herb Robert (Geranium robertianum) which has turned from green to bright red as it struggles with the near drought conditions of recent weeks.
 In the bottom image blue and white forms of the Peach-leaved Bellfower (Campanula persicifolia) have seeded freely among the grasses and Ox-eye Daisies in an overgrown section of the allotments. In this country C. persicifolia was introduced as a garden plant but left to its own devices it has reverted to being a meadow plant, one of its natural habitats in continental Europe. 

 I did another hike across the South Downs over the weekend, this time starting at Shoreham-by-sea then over to Ditchling Beacon and a nearby campsite. Covering about thirteen or fourteen miles it wasn't as long as last week's hike but on this occasion I was carrying the weight of my rucksack with tent and camping gear. Again this was preparation for hiking and camping in the USA in a few weeks time.
 This section of the South Downs Way undulates through the chalk hills with some stiffish climbs and descents en route.

 As I have remarked on before these chalky wind-swept grasslands sustain many low growing wildflowers like Bird's Foot Trefoil (Lotus corniculatus) and Wild Thyme (Thymus polytrichus).

 At about the half way stage I skirted around a wilder, more rugged part of the Downs known as The Devil's Dyke. Here many orchids were in flower; I think the ones shown above are the Common Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchisii) which aren't very common these days. I gather there are some rarities hereabouts so I must dedicate a return visit to exploring this locale.

 Setting a brisk pace it took me about six hours to reach my destination- a camping field at the foot of the Downs near Ditchling. Happily there was a pub nearby for some refreshment.

 What's in a name? This is Hedge Woundwort (Stachys sylvatica). It's quite common in the countryside and I introduced it to the garden because I'm fond of wayside wildflowers. As Piet Oudulf says in his book Dream Plants for the Natural Garden: "There is something to be said for having this plant in the garden, with its deep dark red spike-like inflorescence". However he includes it in the 'Troublesome' section noting that it spreads and seeds.
 When I write about a particular plant in this diary I generally give the common name and the Latin name. Botanists prefer to use the Latin name because it is the globally recognized nomenclature whereas common names vary from country to country and often from locality to locality. But it's worth bearing in mind that the "Latin" name ain't what the Romans spoke.
 Botanical Latin and the binomial system was invented by Carl Linnaeus (born 1707, died 1778). Actually it would be more accurate to say he formalized it and expanded it hugely thereby creating the basis for modern botany. He it was who named the genera 'Stachys' after the Greek word which means "an ear of grain" (a reference to the inflorescence), and he called this one 'sylvatica' referring to woodland.
 Monty Python once asked: "What have the Romans ever done for us?" Not much in this case because Stachys sylvatica was named by a Swedish guy using a Greek word in the 18th. century!
  The common names of plants are worth considering. They too can tell us something about a plant's characteristics and history. For example when the name ends with "wort" it indicates that it was once perceived to have medicinal properties and "woundwort" tells us what for. "Hedge" provides a useful botanical pointer. I rarely see this plant growing in the woods, certainly not deep in them; hedgerows are its main habitat.         

 Two plants are particularly rampant in the garden at the moment (in a good way). In the back garden the Geranium shown above flowers in big clumps. I think it's one of the hybrid varieties of G. endressii and G. versicolor that are referred to as Geranium x oxonianum then get called names like 'Claridge Druce' and 'Wargrave Pink'. Actually I find it hard to discern much difference between them.
 Anyway it flowers in such profusion that honey bees are all over it, by which I mean Appis mellifera, the beehive bee. The sheer quantity of flowers is important for honey bees. Bumble bees will forage across different flowering plants as they go about their business but honey bees allocate themselves to a particular source and work it- so they're looking for volume.
 The other rampaging plant is the Trailing Bellflower (Campanula poscharskyana) which trails and scrambles all over the brick, stone and concrete in the front garden and back patio. It's a bit of a climber too and will mingle in and out of other plants as shown below. Like the Geranium this Campanula flowers so prolifically that the honey bees treat it as a crop to be harvested...

 Continuing the coastal theme of my last entry I caught up with a friend over the weekend who lives on the North Kent coast. We took a walk across the marshes at Seasalter which lie between the towns of Whitstable and Faversham. The stretch of water here is not the Thames Estuary itself, it's a channel known as the Swale which divides the "mainland" from the Isle of Sheppey.
 The coastal path runs along the land side of the seawall and here the grass is quite lush, and thick with red and white Clovers (Trifolium species). These have perhaps self seeded from the adjoining fields where they are used as part of the crop rotation cycle. I also noticed that swathes of various coastal wildflowers are about to burst into flower. I know from previous visits that marshes hereabouts like Seasalter and Reculver see an eruption of wildflowers between mid-June and late July.
 On the Swale side of the wall the grasses are sparser and tougher; they extend to where the shingle of the foreshore meets the mudflats. I say shingle but as well as pebbles it is the accumulation of millions of fragments of oyster shells.
 Spires of Viper's-bugloss (Echium vulgare) rise up through the grasses right down to the tideline. As mentioned in my previous entry coastal areas are one of its favoured habitats, so it's tough as old boots. Bumblebees were buzzing along the beach to feed on them. These grassy marshes are also great for butterflies and very important for migrating birds.
 So a different kind of walk to the one I describe below along the South Downs Way. That was steep, this was flat. That was long, this was short. And that day the sun shone and burned the back of my neck; today the weather was cool and cloudy...   

 I walked a section of the South Downs Way one day last week beginning at Eastbourne, over Beachy Head and the Seven Sisters, inland along the Cuckmere Valley then back up on the Downs across to Glynde (about 20 miles in total).
 I treated it as a bit of a route march because I want to get my legs going ahead of another hiking trip in the States in July. I intend to use a stretch of the Pacific Crest Trail to traverse the Castle Crags National Park and Wilderness Area in northern California. The South Downs Way has some of the steepest gradients I could think within an hour's train ride of London. Though I won't be able to purchase a choc ice and a pint of beer on the PCT.

 Needless to say I kept an eye out for the local flora and fauna. I've often noticed that a particular plant will characterize a particular walk at a particular time of year. In this case it was the lovely Viper's-bugloss (Echium vulgare) which favours chalk grassland and sandy coastal habitats. Numerous studies have named it as one of the best bee plants.
 By the by I have seen it growing in some quantity along a gravelly stretch of the London Overground between Shoreditch and Dalston. As I recall the line was seeded with wildflowers when it opened in 2010. Most have failed to establish themselves but Viper's-bugloss and the inevitable Ox-eye Daisies seem to have naturalized.
 E. vulgare and Wild Mignonette (Resedaceae lutea) and of course Ox-eye Daises are the most showy plants along this clifftop walk (all growing together in the last photo of the sequence above) but much of the action is at ground level. Chalk grasslands have only a thin scraping of soil on top of all that chalk but conversely this spartan ground produces a very rich tapestry of low growing wildflowers.
 I'll write more about this in the near future because flowering grasslands like the South Downs are one of our most notable yet most diminished landscapes...

 

 Stop thief! This bumblebee is engaged in the act of "nectar robbing". I mentioned last week that the Comfrey on the allotment attracts the biggest, fattest bumblebees. Their tongues are long enough to reach right into the flowers for the nectar they crave (thereby facilitating pollination as they feed on the nectar).
 The smaller bees aren't able to do this but get around the problem by piercing a hole closer to the stem and drinking from it or taking advantage of a hole that has already been opened. However this bypasses the flower's reproductive structures and I noticed that even the big bumblebees were sometimes nectar robbing from open holes- an easy fix I suppose.    

 Here's a pretty flower with a curious name: Fox and Cubs (Pilosella aurantica) from the Daisy (Asteraceae) family. I can't see any connection to foxes nor can I fathom one of its other common names: Grim-the-collier. It's also been called Orange Hawk-bit and Devil's Paintbrush which make a bit more sense I suppose.
  P. aurantica is native to alpine regions of central and southern Europe but makes a charming garden plant at lower elevations. It can spread considerably by its running root stock and I see it naturalised as a non-native wildflower here and there- as above where it has taken hold in the overgrown fringes of a neighbouring allotment.
   

 Three wildflowers I'm seeing a lot of at the moment colonising neglected areas, particularly along railway lines which are useful corridors for nature.
 Ox-eye Daisies which were once called Moon Daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare) grow in great luminous drifts. They're leggy but sturdy and rise up from the surrounding greenery in sunny spots.
  The bright yellow flowers of Ragwort (Senecio squalidus) have become more and more common over the years. It is sometimes referred to as Oxford Ragwort having been introduced to the Oxford Botanic Gardens around 1690 from its native habitat on the slopes of Mount Etna in Sicily.
 An account circa 1794 describes that by then it had become "very plentiful on almost every wall in Oxford". The gravel and clinker of railway tracks proved to be a reminder of home and it went to on to be spread ever wider by the rail network.
 Red Valerian (Centranthus ruber) also hails from the Mediterranean; introduced as garden plant it soon jumped the fence. Old walls and the aforementioned clinker suit it. Generally it is indeed red but as the photograph shows there is a less common white form (C. albus) and this crosses to make a pinkish variety where they grow in proximity.