October has been the month for pruning, planting and a general tidy up. Gardeners sometimes refer to it as "Putting the garden to bed". It's true enough in a way but gardening in autumn is as much about laying the foundations for next year as rounding off this one. It's a good time to take stock of what worked/what didn't, hatch new ideas and start to put them into practice. 

 In autumn some plants think it's spring. The conditions for growth can be quite similar- the temperature, rainfall and daylight hours. Case in point this Purple Toadflax (Linaria purpurea) in the front garden has suddenly put on a new flush of flowers. Similarly this Persicaria amplexicaulis in the back has recently grown an understory of new stems and flowers even as the old ones fade:

 I've undertaken four trips to the States in recent years and they all begin in San Francisco. It's a fascinating city and a good point from which to travel to see some of the remarkable landscapes of California and Oregon. But my particular reason for arriving there is to catch up with my great friend James who I've known since way back when in Hertfordshire. He has long been settled in the Bay Area so it's nice to catch up with him in that part of the world.
 Every visit we set aside a day to drive out over the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County which has some mighty fine landscapes of its own like Mount Tamalpais, Muir Woods and the Point Reyes Peninsula. We drove out to Point Reyes this year, on 18th. July to be precise. Above is a view of a stretch of the shoreline: you can make out one of the coves in the distance and the haze is a Frisco fog lingering on the water.
 This locale is interesting for another reason, besides the local flora and fauna. Here it was that Francis Drake anchored the Golden Hind in 1579 to make repairs and put up a brass plaque claiming the territory for England. Actually there's some debate among historians whether he landed further north or south but there is a consensus that Point Reyes was most likely. 

 Tree Mallow (Lavetera arborea) is a migrant. It can be found in the British Isles, western Europe and around the European and African sides of the Mediterranean- but only on the coasts. It is salt tolerant, the fruits float and the seeds within have a hard coating. Thus the seeds can be distributed both by tides and seabirds which explains its widespread range which is nonetheless restricted to not much further inland than the foreshore.
 It has also been cultivated in gardens but in the wild it is a maritime plant. I saw these ones yesterday along a stretch of shingle beach between Whitstable and Herne Bay on the North Kent coast.

 Like many plants the Tree Mallow has other common names e.g. Sea Mallow. Botanical Latin is supposed to provide the definitive nomenclature but curiously it has several Latin names as well. Lavetera arborea is one of them but it is often referred to as Malva arborea (which places it in another genus) and also as Malva dendromorpha and Malva eriocalyx.
 Perhaps it's appropriate that no-one is quite sure what to call this traveler. 

 "I'm just sitting here watching flowers in the rain / Feel the power of the rain making the garden grow" to quote the lyrics of an oldie but goldie from the sixties. Roy Wood and The Move I think?
 There's not many flowers but there's been plenty of rain and the skies are about as grey and gloomy as they can get in the daytime. 
 Rather implausibly however this African Daisy in the front garden flowers every year round about now. At least I think it's known as African Daisy and is of the Osteospermum genus. Anyway it's a cheery contrast to rainy London streets.

 One of the local foxes was out and about when I was doing a spot of gardening. It trotted past me several times as it wandered back and forth. It seems remarkable in evolutionary terms that foxes were wary of humans since time immemorial and yet in the space of a decade or two have lost all fear.
 Well, in the city at least. You rarely spot one in the countryside and no doubt they still maintain a healthy respect for the farmer's gun. I would think they exist in far greater numbers in urban areas than in rural ones (another very rapid evolutionary change). I first started seeing foxes in central London in the 90s and they looked pretty mangy and scrawny. Nowadays they're sleek and healthy; city living is obviously agreeing with them.

 There are still some bumblebees on the wing seeking out the last flowers in bloom. The weather is damp and decidedly chilly but bumblebees are furry creatures. Even so flowers are in short supply by now and foraging is limited. I think this is a Carder Bee, perhaps the Brown Carder Bee?
 I saw this one on the flowers of a patch of bolted radishes on the allotment. Many vegetables we eat are simply plants that have yet to flower. Broccoli for example puts on a beautiful spray of yellow flowers if left to its own devices. Then again some veg are the product of the flowering e.g. runner beans.
 In so far as I tidy up the the allotment and the garden I leave it till late in the season because these late flowers are precious to the bees.

 Tahoe wildflowers. The parched sun-baked slopes near Carson Pass seem a long way away and a long time ago on a soggy autumn evening in England.

 Back in July they were dotted with the dainty (but very tough) flowers of Mariposa Lily. This is a somewhat generic common name which covers numerous species in the Calochortus genus. More accurately these appear to be the Smokey Mariposa (C. leichtlinii).

 I have since read that the tubers of various Calochortus plants were eaten by Native Americans but a handful of nuts and a few glugs of water was my lunch that day.  

 Seen in the garden today. A grasshopper I think, albeit sunning itself on the leaves of a Foxglove in a pot. I cut the grass with a lawnmower earlier (something I do about twice a year) so perhaps it hopped off the grass and onto the Foxglove.

 Tahoe wildflowers. Continuing my sporadic round-up of California wildflowers photographed on the Tahoe trails but not included in my accounts published back in August.
 Here is a botanical curiosity. I saw a good many of these popping up on the forest floor under the dry and bare canopy of conifers that shaded out any other wildflowers. A passing hiker told me they are called Snowflowers which directed me to their Latin name Sarcodes sanguinea and more information about them.
 Sure enough they are known to appear soon after the snow has melted in the Sierra Nevadas. It is in fact the only plant in the genus Sarcodes and is parasitic- it derives sustenance from mycorrhizal fungi attached to the roots of trees. Actually symbiotic would be a better word: it gives fixed carbon to the fungus and receives minerals and water. Mindblowing!
 When I saw them I thought this might be the case due to the absence of any greenery; such plants contain no chlorophyll and do not photosynthesize. As such they are adapted to growing in depths of shade that would defeat other flowering plants. 

 Lent a hand with some tree pruning at the South London Botanical Institute including this Azara serrata which is native to Chile and not often seen in the UK. The reference books have it as a large shrub/small tree which grows to four or five metres. The one at the SLBI seems to want to be something more substantial than that, hence the pruning.
 I see it has the common name of Saw-Toothed Azara. The leaves are not as prickly as, say, a Holly but they are indeed serrated round the edges (though saw-toothed makes them sound rather sharper than they are). 
 The SLBI has two expert gardeners who come in once a week to tend the garden, assisted by volunteers. I wasn't sure if I would be able to go there today but as things turned out I arrived just at the moment they were about to commence pruning.
 Actually I've always enjoyed shaping shrubs and trees but these days I don't really do anything higher than working off a step ladder with long loppers and a pruning saw as was the case here. 

 Jerusalem Artichoke (Helianthus tuberosos) on the allotment reaching up towards the sun- and it is indeed of the Sunflower genus. There has been precious little sun over the past week or two but no shortage of rain.

 I wrote about giant Echiums in my last entry- as noted Echium pininana are naturalising in London and elsewhere. The Echium shown above is in my front garden. This species also hails from the Canary Islands but this is Echium wildpretii. It forms a spike of bright red flowers metres high and is sometimes called Tower of Jewels.
 Unlike E. pininana it has yet to naturalise anywhere in the UK (as far as I know). This example was given to me by one of the gardeners at the South London Botanical Institute who grew it on from seed in a small pot. This is the second year of growth and I hope it will reach full height and flower next year if it makes it through the winter.
 By a process of natural selection E. pininana is becoming hardy in UK conditions but I don't know if the same can be said of E. wildpretii as yet.

 Echium pininana is sometimes called Giant Viper's Bugloss or Tree Echium; they grow to three or four metres tall so words like giant or tree are not misplaced.
 I have written several entries in the last year or two noting that they hail from the Canary Islands but are naturalising in some warmer parts of the country including London and South West England. I saw this trio in the village of Abbotsbury in Dorset a few weeks ago.
 Unusually E. pininana is triennial i.e. it puts on a rosette of leaves in the first year, grows to about a metre in the second year (as above) then reaches full stature in year three when it flowers then seeds prolifically before dying.

 I posted an entry back in June observing this magnificent colony in St. James's Park in the heart of central London. Strange and wonderful to see these exotic triffids making themselves at home in a charming English village and within a stone's throw of Buckingham Palace.

 This floriferous Honesty (Lunaria annua) self-seeded in the front garden, most likely from the back garden where I introduced it a few years ago. It proved to be one of the sturdiest most flowery specimens I've seen and bloomed for weeks back in April as seen above.

 The distinctive papery seed heads that follow are a striking a feature in their own right. This one plant produced a great many seeds which I collected in August to sow in autumn. Despite being named Lunaria annua it is invariably biennial in my experience i.e. it produces a rosette of leaves in the first year of growth, flowers in the second then dies having produced seed.

 I sowed or scattered most of the seed directly into the garden but I also sowed a dozen in pots to grow on and transplant in the spring. NB as this photo demonstrates L. annua is a dicot i.e. produces two seed leaves, one of the characteristics of dicotyledon plants (as opposed to plants that are monocots/monocotyledon).

 
 Cyclamen hederifolium is a good plant for shady gardens. It flowers in early autumn when not much else does, spreads freely and is in leaf for a long period. And it will do all this in fairly deep dry shade.
 The flowers are pure white or rich pink. I notice that late foraging bees seem to ignore the white form and favour the pink (at least in this garden). From the aesthetic point of view the combination of the two is delightful; they seem to almost glow among the mottled greens and browns of their surroundings.
 C. hederifolium is unusual in the sense that it flowers first then puts out leaves. It's sometimes known as the Ivy-Leaved Cyclamen though the patterns on the leaves are more intricate than ivy.  

 Flowers have their season but occasionally bloom earlier or later than you would expect. Great Mullein (Verbascum thapsis) generally flowers mid-summer but I saw this one going strong in late September.

 Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) is a widespread and tough as old boots grassland perennial (lawns too). It has a long flowering season over summer and into autumn; I saw plenty of it when I was in Dorset several weeks ago.
 Generally the flat flower-heads are a pure or creamy white but in the middle of a field near Cattistock I saw a swathe of Yarrow in shimmering shades of pink.

 The hedgerows were laden with ripe and ripening blackberries when I walked the lanes of Dorset a couple of weeks ago.

 I noticed they were attracting considerable numbers of Red Admiral butterflies. This intrigued me since all the brambles I saw were well passed flowering hence the abundance of fruit.

 On closer inspection I noticed this butterfly's long tongue eating (or perhaps licking?) the surface of the berry. Indeed it was so preoccupied by this activity that I was able to peer right up close and place my camera lens only a foot or so away. Ordinarily butterflies take flight as soon as you approach them- I wonder if they become somewhat intoxicated on the juice of blackberries??

 Tahoe wildflowers. Spreading Phlox (Phlox diffusa) is diminutive but prolific on sun baked gritty slopes. There are clumps of the purest white and clumps of the deepest pink but here and there they hybridise to create a delightful intermediate form. Is it white with a pink blush or pink with a white flush?

 My thoughts drifted to the wide open spaces of Tahoe more than once during a particularly tiring week at work. It was only a couple of months ago that I was there though it feels longer!

 In defence of slugs. Slugs get a bad press among gardeners, undeservedly so. They're only doing what comes naturally and have a vital role to play in ecosystems. Slugs eat weak plants -the diseased, decaying and dying- and regurgitate them back into the soil system. The recent rains have bought them out in force and they're doing great work in assisting the decomposition of plant materials that comes with autumn.
 The main reason gardeners lose plants to slugs is that the plants they buy are too tender to resist them. The horticultural trade breeds pampered plants grown in polytunnels which are then planted in beds of bare earth thereby attracting the attention of the many thousands of slugs that will be found in any garden. A typical response is to dose the plant and its surroundings with chemicals. I find it truly disturbing to see the aisles stacked with poison in garden centres and homeware stores.
 Woods, hedgerows, meadows and other natural environs have at least as many slugs as gardens- are they stripped bare by slugs? Wild plants are tougher by far and proliferate in greater density. Many such species that are also bred as garden plants are weaklings by comparison to their relatives in the wild.
 Furthermore nature provides a counterbalance- slugs may be predators of plants but in turn they are preyed upon. Bill Mollison (the founder of Permaculture) once said "You don't have a slug problem, you have a duck deficiency."   

 Autumn is bulb planting time. These are a cultivar of American origins Erythronium 'Pagoda'. Erythroniums are commonly known as Dog's Tooth Violets (indeed the Latin name for the European species is Erythronrium dens-canis). Quite apt as the bulbs do bear a resemblance to the tooth of a canine.