More muck, this time at the South London Botanical Institute. They had a couple of tonne bags of compost delivered- one of well rotted horse manure, the other of spent mushroom compost. Mulching can be done any time of year but it's a task best suited to winter when plants are dormant- keeps you warm too!

 A couple of caveats where mulching is concerned. Animal dung should always be very well rotted, too fresh and it can scorch plants. Mushroom compost is somewhat alkaline and shouldn't be used around ericaceous plants or overused to the extent it alters the soil PH.

 One major concern about any compost from an external source -including 'green waste'- is that it's generally impossible to know what chemical residues it may contain unless from a certified organic source. For example there have been well documented issues with contaminated manure from animals grazed on grass treated with herbicide. 

 It show just how powerful these herbicides must be that they can be sprayed, pass through an animal's digestive system, composted, bagged and stored but still be potent enough to damage plants when used in gardens and allotments. Probably the only compost you can be completely sure of is the home-made variety. 

 Snowdrops and Winter Aconites in flower. Round about this time of year I always take a walk from Hitchin to the nearby village of Charlton. There is a small nature reserve where a cottage once stood with many clumps of Snowdrops, probably a relic of the cottage garden. I imagine they have increased and naturalised over time. 

 Not far from the Snowdrops is a bank gleaming with Winter Aconites. I should think these too were a garden planting that has spread considerably. The day was mild and sunny- I noticed a small bee making its way around them.

 Further down the road I was looking at some more Snowdrops and another walker remarked on them as she was passing. I mentioned that I walk out here every year to see the Snowdrops and Aconites and she said that she does the same! She also said that Winter Aconites are sometimes known as "Choirboys". I can see that: the ruff of green bracts topped by a yellow flower wide open does indeed seem like nature is bursting into song.

 Stinking Hellebore (Helleborus foetidus) in flower, as seen yesterday in the front garden of the South London Botanical Institute. I saw my first bumblebee of the year foraging on the flowers. Bumblebees come out of slumber for the Stinking Hellebore and I'm always cheered by that augury of spring.

 More mulching at Edible Landscapes in Finsbury Park. Thick mulch can be used to suppress unwanted growth/weeds but in this case a thin smattering will feed the soil and not inhibit spring shoots poking through. Looks nice too.

 Periwinkles in flower. From the top: Greater Periwinkle (Vinca major), Lesser Periwinkle (Vinca minor) and Intermediate Periwinkle (Vinca difformis). All have the characteristic five petalled flower; V. major is shrubby, V. minor has a low sprawling habit, V. difformis is something of a scrambler.

 The Intermediate Periwinkle is the first to flower -now in fact- followed by Greater Periwinkle in late winter and Lesser Periwinkle in early spring. All are introductions from the continent; major and minor are both recorded circa sixteenth century, difformis in the nineteenth century. All three have naturalised here and there. They don't look out of place in an English wood or hedgerow but I only see them in such locales near to houses so they are most likely garden escapes.

 

 Arum italicum has striking variegated foliage through autumn and winter. A very hardy plant for the shadiest spots in the garden. Notionally there are various forms like 'Marmoratum' and 'Pictum' but the variegation varies from plant to plant and there isn't much to choose between them.

 It's a continental relative of our native Arum maculatum which grows wild in hedgerows and woodlands in great profusion. The patterns on the lush leaves of A. italicum make it one for the garden. The leaves on A. maculatum are not as striking; plain green though some are speckled with black spots. Both have a creamy hooded flower in spring with bright red (poisonous) berries to follow.

 Vinca difformis flowers very early in the year. In fact this one began flowering before Christmas. Sometimes called the Intermediate Periwinkle. I assume that is because it is considered intermediate in relation to Greater and Lesser Periwinkle (V. major and V. minor).

 Strawberry plants multiply by runners (also known as stolons). At points along their length they put out adventitious roots i.e. roots that form from non root organs, in this case the runner. At each such node a new plant is created, in fact a clone- the genetic material is the same. This is a naturally occurring form of vegetative reproduction. 

 I planted six or seven plants in a bed on the allotment a couple of years ago and they spread very rapidly resulting in a strawberry patch about four metres by four metres. The bed was reclaimed from an area of couch grass, another rapid spreader which has come back strongly. Strawberries make a good ground cover but the couch will overwhelm them. 

 Accordingly I'm making my way through the bed with a fork uprooting the tufts of grass. Trouble is the grass and strawbs have intermingled so I have to tease out any strawberry plants within the clods. Laborious but in a sense this becomes an exercise in weeding and propagating at the same time. I'm replanting the ones I separate to further extend the patch.       

 Paths are the way we go (and come back). They also define the shape of surrounding areas. This garden path has become a prominent feature by virtue of a thick layer of mulch generated by shredding that large pile of Fig branches. [see entry dated 1st. January]

 The shreds of fresh wood will quickly turn brown and blend in with the surroundings. Even so the line of the path will continue to lead the eye (and the body) through the garden. 

 From an ecological perspective gardening is as much about making habitats as it is about horticulture. In this shady corner for example the fallen leaves, "untidy" undergrowth, a pile of branches and a couple of broken pots create both shelter and sustenance.

 Micro-organisms such as fungi and bacteria are hard at work composting the organic matter which makes a rich mix for invertebrates- slugs, snails, woodlice etc. In turn they are food for larger foragers like birds, frogs and hedgehogs.

 NB the branches are some of the recent pruning from the Fig trees. Most of the rest I shredded to mulch the path. A layer of mulch is in itself a habitat.

Robin Redbreast keeps an eye on the garden.

 It's happening. New growth is starting to poke through. These Spring Snowflakes (Leuojcum vernum) I planted a few years ago seem to like this spot, probably because it corresponds to their natural habitat of damp scrub. They're slowly increasing- I must purchase some more in the autumn. Simple rule of thumb: if a particular plant does well in a certain area plant some more. 

 Not a common bulb but a few specialist growers have them. These came from Shipton Bulbs whose catalogue notes that they are found in many parts of Europe but are native to Britain in Dorset and Somerset only.  

 I don't think I've mentioned Bergenia cordifolia in these pages before. Sometimes called Elephant's Ears it's grown as much for its evergreen foliage as for flowers. In the summer months the showy blooms are raised on stems above the greenery. 'Purpurea' and 'Bressingham White' are the most common cultivars. 

 The species hails from Siberia and has the virtue of being as tough as old boots growing in sun or shade, tolerating most soils. Often recommended as a ground cover plant though it spreads slowly.

 Very lovely growing in the Altai mountains judging by photos I have seen but one of those plants that generally gets used in a rather functional sort of way here in the UK.

 Saw these Stinking Hellebores (Hellebore foetidus) in a hedgerow today- first wildflower sighting of the year! The Stinking Hellebore is reliably one of the earliest natives to appear. The flowers will open within a day or two by the look of it. 

 Sunlight raking across the allotment after a night of hard frost. These sub-zero temperatures are something of a relief actually. Britain had the warmest temperatures on record at the turning of the year.

 The berries of Ivy (Hedera helix), poisonous to humans but loved by birds. 

 

 The Panther Meadows walk-in campground didn't have any campers when I passed by in June 2016. The upper reaches of Mount Shasta in northern California were still thick with snow. I had pitched my tent in the woods about a mile down the mountain where the snow had mostly melted.

 Readers of this diary will know I keep an eye on weather conditions in California, particularly the areas where I have hiked in recent years. Needless to say that kind of travel has been impossible during the pandemic but I can wander in my mind's eye.

 Mostly I have had to report drought and wildfires so I was interested to see how things are shaping up this winter. On December 1st. the California snowpack was at 18% of the average, a historic low. By the end of the month it had reached 160% with more to come. The Lake Tahoe area for example has had massive dumps of snow after a summer of wildfires unprecedented in living memory.

 California depends on snow melt for a good deal of its tap water so this should go some way to replenishing its depleted reservoirs. In theory water after fire is a good thing but torrents of water rushing across 'burn scars' creates other problems like mud slides. Heavy snow is part of California's alpine ecology but the extreme volatility in weather systems does seem to be a global characteristic of climate change.

 

 NB I wrote a recollection of my visit to Shasta in an entry to this diary 21st. June 2017. 

 A right old tangle. Accumulating a substantial pile of pruning from the Fig trees. I'll shred the slimmer branches which will generate plenty of woodchip to use as mulch. The council lays on green waste bins along with the rubbish and the recycling but why waste it?

 And so 2022 begins... The stars and the spheres keep their own time and that is nature's calendar but today is January 1st. by the Gregorian calendar so Happy New Year!