Which way should I go? California has been my regular destination the past few years for some summer hiking in the mountains. As storms batter Britain my thoughts are drifting to another visit this year- but where?
 The challenge for me is how to get to the middle of nowhere by public transport (same in the UK). Generally this means finding a suitable cross country train route then a local bus then start walking. Actually I'd like to see the other side of Lake Tahoe where I went last year (subject of numerous entries in this diary last August). I'm reading good things about the profusion of wildflowers in the Barker Pass area so that's a possibility. 

 Three is the magic number when planting. Or five or seven- odd numbers seem more "natural". In this case I have three Foxgloves and three pots of Bluebells ready to plant. It's still quite early in the year but the soil isn't too cold and these are outdoor raised plants so should be fine. 

Narcissus 'February Gold' on the allotment.

 A bit more rustic joinery: bash a couple of poles into the ground with a sledgehammer then reinforce with side struts.
 In due course I will tension some wires between them to support climbing fruit bushes e.g. Loganberry, Boysenberry, Tayberry.

 Viola riviniana is known in plant parlance as the Common Dog Violet. Not a very distinguished name for a lovely little flower- perhaps it wasn't held in such high regard as the Sweet Violet (Viola ororata)? Dog Violets have no scent whereas Sweet Violets are indeed sweetly scented.
 V. riviniana is one of those country wildflowers that does fine in towns and cities too. The patch above was one of several I saw in some neglected front gardens near the Old Kent Road. Needless to say certain gardening books inform you that Dog Violets are weeds that need to be eradicated from your lawn but why would you?  

 There is a Bay Tree (Laurus nobilis) growing near the house. I give it a haircut every year to keep it in proportion to the surroundings. L. nobilis is an evergreen Mediterranean species but hardy in English climes. It has the useful characteristic of being very amenable to hard pruning so can serve as a small but shapely container plant or as a large shrub/small tree for some serious topiary. Left to its own devices it becomes a tall tree and voluminous in a shaggy sort of fashion.
 In this kind of garden it's not necessary to get too ornamental with the shears but I find giving it a sphere-like shape in spring keeps it in check. I make sure to do this early because most years there will be a Blackbird nest when the breeding season commences.

 The South London Botanical Institute is one of my favourite places to visit for ideas and inspiration, even on a rainy day. There were several large patches of the delightful Cardamine quinquefolia in full flower- except I didn't take my camera! So the photograph above is in fact from this time last year.
 Besides having a natter with the gardeners my main reason for the visit was to spend an hour or two in the SLBI library. It's very traditional as libraries go- I feel like I'm siting in a reading room circa 1900 as I peruse the books and periodicals.
 I had no clear line of research in mind and began to cross reference one thing and another by moving from section to section. The materiality of books makes this process far more tactile and tangible than simply relying on the internet. In the event I found three books I hadn't come across before. By a mixture of accident and design I drew together several strands of thought which characterize my interest in plants.
 The first book was 'The Flowering of Britain' by the ever reliable Richard Mabey (published 1980). In it he discusses various landscapes of Britain and how they evolved with land use: hay meadows, coppiced woods, cornfields etc.
 The second book was 'Plant Communites' by Anna Bulow-Olsen (1978). She describes how different environments create different groupings of plants with soil and weather being the main influence. A dry beech wood and a swampy peat bog have very different flora for example.
 The third book was 'The National Trust Book of Wildflower Gardening' by John Stevens (1990). A good practical guide suggesting what plants to use for gardens corresponding to sunny meadows, semi-shady hedgerows and shady woodlands, also niche environments like ponds and rock gardens.
 In my travels I actively seek out the plants of particular habitats- an ancient wood in Sussex perhaps or a chalk hillside in Wiltshire. As a gardener in London I try to use wild species to create thriving combinations of plants in an urban setting.

 The recent storms have been pretty fierce but the south of England received less of a battering than elsewhere. My father's side gate needed repair and reconstruction however so I dug out the tools for some basic carpentry. I don't really have the temperament or inclination to be a cabinet maker but I enjoy a bit of rustic joinery.

 I have two pots of Lesser Periwinkle (Vinca minor). The blue flowered form is sometimes referred to as 'Bowles Variety' (after EA Bowles) and the white flowered variation as 'Gertrude Jeckyll'. Those renowned gardeners both had a special place in their hearts for the humble Periwinkle. It probably came to us from the continent in centuries past but I see it in woods from time to time among other flowers of the forest. Perhaps it's always been here?
 It should be ideal for the semi-shady environs of my back garden and I've planted it in a number of spots. It's noted as a tough groundcovering plant but in my case refuses to cover any ground at all! A few sprigs hang on with the odd flower from time to time but that's about it.
 Anyway, the trailing habit of V. minor makes it very attractive spilling out of pots and both the blue and the white are flowering merrily.

 Nothing is wasted. I decided to have a bit of a tidy up of the patio area at the back of the house. Two planters and a large tub were becoming grown over with Trailing Bellflower (Campanula poscharskyana) and Herb Robert (Geranium robertianum). Both flower very prettily with blue and pink flowers respectively so I potted up the Campanula to use elsewhere at a later date and planted the clumps of Herb Robert along one of the borders.
 NB I'm happy to let the Bellflower trail up the sides of the planters. They'll be smothered with flowers in mid-summer and buzzing with bees. 

 The grass has spread onto the paving over the years so I sliced off some mini turfs and planted them into several bare patches on the lawn...

 Here is another kind of Crocus, not one of the spring flowering species like the "Tommies" and the Snow Crocus mentioned in my last entry. This is the autumn flowering Saffron Crocus- I bought several pots at the London Potato Fair last week. Actually I didn't buy any potatoes though there were dozens of varieties for the spud loving allotmenteer!
 Crocus sativus hails from the Mediterranean, some speculate it might have originated in Asia. It is thought to be a cultivated variety rather than a wild species. We have lived in a global economy for a long time as the travels of this edible spice demonstrate.
 Saffron Walden in Essex was at the heart of the industry in the Middle Ages. Elsewhere there was "Croh-denu" which is Anglo-Saxon for "Valley of the Crocuses" (though now we call it the London Borough of Croydon).
 Anyway I've planted these pots each containing five or six bulbs on the allotment and I hope to harvest the fine filaments of the flowers in autumn to spice up my life. 

 Plenty of Crocuses in the garden right now, mainly Crocus tommasinianus. Typically they come in shades of shimmering mauve/violet but there are darker forms in rich plum purples. The "Tommies" above are broken up by a group of yellow Snow Crocus (C. chrysanthus).
 They may look delicate but tough it out in the harshest weather that late winter/early spring throws at them; the gales and torrential rain last weekend had little effect. The petals stay closed when the light is low then open wide when the sun is upon them.

 Narcissus February Gold is in flower in the garden and (above) on the allotment- a very useful bulb for providing a splash of colour early in the year. It's a hardy hybrid between the two wild species N. pseudonarcissus and N. cyclamineus; it doesn't seem to be recorded whether it's a natural cross or a cultivar.
 It's still very wet and I haven't seen many pollinators around as yet but February Gold attracts queen bumblebees emerging from hibernation.

 Puschkinia scilloides is a bulb with an exquisite little flower; it's also known as the Striped Squill. I have tried them in several spots in the back garden but it seems they don't flourish in the cold damp clay of London- their home is in the mountains of the Middle East. Fortunately a few have taken a liking to a corner of the bed in the front garden and appear every year roundabout now.

 Purchased from a stall at my local farmers' market on Saturday:

four Primroses (Primula vulgaris),

 six pots of Spring Crocus (Crocus vernus)

a Savoy cabbage and some radishes.

 The back end of the garden is amass with Snowdrops. They were here when I moved in; I imagine some were planted decades ago and they've spread. I have assisted the process by transplanting small clumps round and about but clearly they like the conditions without any help from me. NB The best way to plant Snowdrops is "in the green" i.e. freshly lifted after flowering, the bulbs do not like to dry out.
 There are said to be only nineteen species in the wild but dedicated collectors avidly seek out new varieties and cultivars. For me the beauty of Snowdrops is to see them in drifts but I can see why people are entranced by subtle variations of form.
 I think the ones in the garden are Galanthus "Sam Arnott". He was a Scottish cleric who discovered this tall vigorous variety growing in his garden in the late 19th. century, no doubt a natural hybrid or mutation. He passed some on to the great plantsman EA Bowles and subsequently they were cultivated and sold by the Giant Snowdrop Company in the fifties and sixties. Perhaps this is how they came to be planted here?

   

 London streets, parks and gardens are graced by numerous species and cultivars of Prunus, the flowering cherries. This week many in the neighbourhood went from bare branches to blossom in the space of 24 hours.

 There have been several hard frosts in London this week; even Green Park in the heart of the city was dusted with white. In the garden Narcissus February Gold and Crocus tommasinianus flower early in the year and are untroubled by the freezing temperatures.
 Vernalization is an intrinsic part of the growing cycle of many hardy plants in temperate climates i.e. exposure to a period of chilling over winter.

 Whilst digging on the allotment I was joined by various birds looking for tasty morsels- the inevitable Robin, a Blackbird and (above) a Thrush. I have formed the impression that both Song Thrushes and Mistle Thrushes have declined considerably over the years so I'm always glad to see them.

 Wishing you a happy Imbolc- the Celtic/Pagan festival marking the first day of spring. It's also referred to as Saint Brigid's Day and more or less coincides with Candlemass; religions do seem to have a tendency to overlap in that way.
 Without getting into a discussion about creation it is probably fair to say that all spiritual beliefs incorporate observation of nature in some shape or form. And today I observe that the first of the Crocuses in the garden have opened their flowers to join the Snowdrops and the Winter Aconites.