I was asked recently about choosing plants for a shady border (besides the inevitable ferns). That got me thinking about good i.e. reliable selections for a herbaceous border which doesn't get much light. I should qualify this by saying that there's shade and there's shade. Dry, moist, bright, dark, full, partial etc. all of which can have a bearing on what may or may not grow there. Anyway here are a few species I have found to be fairly indestructible. 

 Above is Arum italicum; lush marbled leaves through winter, a curious spadix flower in spring and a spike of bright/red orange (not edible) berries in late summer/autumn.

 Stinking Iris (Iris foetidissima) is tough as old boots (and doesn't stink). Evergreen fronds, pale blue or yellow veined flowers in summer, dangling red berries (also not edible) in autumn/winter. 

 Ramsons (Allium ursinum) aka Wild Garlic. Can be bought as a bulb in autumn or in pots in spring when the leaves start to appear followed by white flowers. Will multiply over time but needs a moist soil.

 There are several Geraniums worth a try in shade. G. phaeum has clumps of foliage and elegant flower stems either maroon or white. G. macorrhizum is mat forming and low growing with white flowers or shades of pink depending which variety. Both are late spring/early summer flowering. G. nodosum (as seen above) flowers a bit later and well into autumn; not profuse with flowers but spreads and pops up all over the place if it likes the conditions.

 Ivy-leaved Cyclamen (Cyclamen hederifolium) is a useful species for the shade garden. It's one of the very few that comes into flower in late summer/early autumn. The foliage that follows looks a bit like ivy but variegated. 

 Anyway, these are some of the possibilities and as I say shade comes with many distinctions. Growing in shade is a particular interest of mine and there are numerous entries on the topic. My post concerning plants for dry shade [6th. March 2019] is one of the most read on this blog to date so it appears to have struck a chord. I also wrote an eight part series on planting shady areas in November 2021.

 These look to be our native Wild Daffodil (Narcissus pseudonarcissus). I saw them growing on Saturday in a small nature reserve in Hertfordshire that used to be the garden of a cottage. It was a ruin when I was a child then knocked down. Drifts of Snowdrops have been flowering there for several weeks. [see entry dated 3rd. February].

 I assume the Snowdrops are a remnant of the cottage garden. Perhaps the Daffodils are too or perhaps they were planted there when it became a nature reserve. The distribution of N. pseudonarcissus around the Britsh Isles is a subject of conjecture. It proliferates in some areas yet not in others where conditions should suit it. Obviously habitat loss is a factor.

 Old and abandoned country gardens are sometimes a haven for species that have become eradicated in the surrounding countryside. Wild Daffodils seem to be absent in this part of the world so I like to think these are a survival from earlier times. Then again maybe they are a more recent addition. Either way it's good to see them.

 Seems to be a good year for Snowdrops. I keep an eye on certain locales to see how they're doing. A thick carpet of green foliage and white flowers can be seen among the muted browns of the bare trees and leaf litter.

 Still a bit early for blossom -this photo was taken on March 17th. 2022- but the Royal Horticultural Society is predicting a great display this spring. The warmth and sunshine of last summer combined with a cold winter has created ideal conditions for buds and blossom. Additionally the cold start to February has inhibited early flowering; certain species (e.g. fruit trees) are vulnerable to late frosts if they bloom too soon.

 It has been dry the past few weeks but there is plenty of moisture in the ground so all in all could be a vintage year... 

 Nesting season may arrive early this year if the recent springlike weather continues. I thought I'd better revivify the bird box I made a few years ago. Last year the small hole was enlarged considerably, probably gnawed by a grey squirrel raiding the eggs. So I stuck a wooden slat over the front and drilled a 28mm hole in it. Metal plates with different size holes are available; I might retrofit one which would hopefully prevent a recurrence of the same problem.

 The RSPB recommends the following diameters: 25mm for blue, coal and marsh tits. 28mm for great tits, tree sparrows and pied flycatchers. 32 mm for house sparrows and nuthatches. One year the box was colonised by tree bees!

 I considered making or buying a new box but I reckon birds don't like the smell or feel of new wood. After all boxes are a substitute for natural nesting sites e.g. in tree trunks. For that reason I didn't varnish the box with a synthetic or solvent based wood preserver when I constructed it. If I remember rightly I used walnut oil instead.

 Boxes should be placed to avoid overheating with too much direct sunlight and allowing for a certain amount of shelter from the elements.

 

 I planted strawberries on the allotment [see last entry] after seeing one of Martin Crawford's gardens. Back in May 2019 I visited his project the Agroforestry Reasearch Trust in Devon. Best known for the two acre forest garden he created in the grounds of Dartington Hall he is also developing a much larger site nearby. It contains several experimental gardens including the one shown above which is carpeted with strawberry plants. 

 Weeding out the Couch Grass from the strawberry patch on the allotment. Strawberries are a good ground cover and I wondered if they might shade out the invasive Couch. Answer: no. Nonetheless they have spread vigorously from the five or six plants I began with.

 Couch is the bane of allotments and I deal with it in several passes in late winter and early spring. It's possible to tease out long strands of root while the soil is moist and loose. Last year I did the first sweep but the ground baked dry and hard by early March. The strawbs suffered in the prolonged drought that followed but the Couch did just fine.

 Disturbing the strawberry plants is inevitable, in fact sometimes they have to be lifted to tug out the Couch from their rootball. Strawberries are propagated by division anyway so I pop them straight back in.

 

 Bud burst, as seen on this Chocolate Vine (Akebia quinata). To put it another way: the end of ecodormancy, buds form and new plant tissue literally bursts out...

 Spring bulbs: Narcissus. Daffodils are probably the bulb most associated with the coming of spring. 'Tete a Tete' (as seen above) and 'February Gold' are reliably among the first to appear. These are cultivars i.e. cultivated varieties. 'Gold' is said to be N. pseudonarcissus x cyclamineus. The ancestry of 'Tete a Tete' is obscure, possibly N. cyclamineus x tazetta.

 Even among botanists there seems to be considerable variation as to the number of wild species. Kew says 36, others say more. Here in the UK our Wild Daffodil is N. pseudonarcissus immortalised by Keats when he wandered lonely as a cloud in the Lake District. 

 There are an endless number of cultivars, though not many have real grace and charm. The few that do are generally selections from the wild or simple crosses of one wild species with another retaining characteristics of both. Victorian favourites like 'Thalia' and 'WP Milner' are worthy of a place in any garden. 

Robin Redbreast casting a beady eye for tasty morsels while I'm digging.

 Westward ho! to Knocking Hoe. Well, west(ish) of Hitchin and it was a fine, springlike day for a walk. Middle of February is a bit early to be quite so springlike but at least we had some proper cold spells before and after Christmas.

 I walked from the village of Pirton up past Knocking Hoe and on to the Pegsden Hills then back much the same way. On the return leg I saw three -possibly four- birds of prey swooping and swerving over the knolls of Knocking, Red Kites I think. It's quite common to see a Red Kite patrolling an area of land and sky but I don't recall seeing groups of them before.  

 They seemed to be wheeling and diving at each other. Perhaps they were courting or fighting for territory or both or perhaps they were just full of the joys of spring.

 

 A woodland planting albeit in the back garden. Spiky Mahonia japonica, glowing Galanthus, fronds of Iris foetidissima, the marbled foliage of Arum italicum and the inevitable Ivy Hedera helix. They grow under a very large Sycamore (not much else will) which provides an annual mulch of leaf litter.

 Spring bulbs: Eranthis hyemalis. Well, I'm calling it a spring bulb but its common name is Winter Aconite. I suppose the point is that Aconites (and Snowdrops and Early Crocus) all start to appear when there is a tangible sense that winter is heading towards spring. The days are noticeably longer, the air has a delicious freshness, the sun is actually warming at times.

 The Aconites seen here are in my back garden and I would like to say I look out on a carpet of them. Unfortunately I have planted them in various spots over the years and in only one place have a few established themselves (plus a handful in the front garden). I think that London soils are too heavy with clay for E. hyemalis. 

 They originate in Southern Europe where they are found in deciduous woods on calcareous soils. They have naturalised here and there in the UK in conditions which correspond to their natural habitat. For example the patch in Hertfordshire I described recently is undoubtedly a garden escape turned semi-wild. [see entry dated 1st. February]

 There is a common thread with these "spring" bulbs that flower at the tail end of winter. Crocus tommasinianus comes to us from South Eastern Europe and Galanthus nivalis may well be an introduction from the continent circa Norman times. I imagine they would have been prized for their early flowers at this point in the year when little else is in flower. 

 Spring bulbs: Galanthus. The arrival of Snowdrops en masse is the classic sign that a new year of new growth is underway. As I mentioned last week the beginning of February is Imbolc the ancient celebration of the beginning of spring. So I think we can say that Snowdrops are a spring bulb though the stems start to poke through as early as Christmas.

 Needless to say our Common Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) is the most common but Victorian plant hunters introduced numerous species common to other parts of the world. This had the effect of encouraging various deliberate and accidental hybrids. I think 'Sam Arnott' (said to be G. nivalis x plicatus) is the one that proliferates in my garden as seen above. [see also entry dated 31st. January] 

 Spring bulbs: Crocus tommasinianus. Sometimes called the Woodland Crocus. Unlike most other Crocus species it will take a bit of shade but needs bright winter sun for the petals to open and reveal the golden pollen within. Also known as the Early Crocus it is arguably a bulb of late winter rather than early spring- a welcome sight when we are on the cusp of those two seasons.

 C. tommasinianus varies in hue. Curiously the palest are the first to appear in my garden, followed by deeper magenta and plum purple. Since they are basically the same species I don't know why that should be (there is also a pure white form). They multiply and self-seed when they like the conditions; early bees make the proverbial bee line to all that dusty pollen. 

 When they self-seed the deeper colours become more prevalent than the exquisite silvery-violet tones. Never mind: come one, come all. 

 

 I was asked to carry out an amputation at the South London Botanical Institute in Tulse Hill. Their Saw-toothed Azara (Azara errata) is succumbing to Silver Leaf fungus. [see entry dated 25th. November 2022]

 

 Its spread is very evident in one of the three main limbs so we're hoping that surgery might help. To be honest we're not optimistic but it's worth a try.

 I worked my way down with a pruning saw felling manageable sections. The final cut I made as low as possible to the base. Rough cuts are fine for reducing a tree but the final cut needs to be smooth and angled so that water drains away from the tree. Tool tip: I used a Japanese "Silky" saw belonging to the SLBI. It's the best pruning saw I've ever used- I'm going to buy one! 

 I worked with Cath, one of the institute's expert gardeners. She worked at ground level cutting and bagging the branches to be disposed of the following day. Home composting is generally not advisable for diseased wood but council sites send 'green waste' to be composted at temperatures high enough to kill most diseases. 

 At the end of the day Cath sterilised the tools in a bleach solution. Silver Leaf spores enter a tree through "wounds" e.g. during pruning. 

  This photo illustrates the distinctive staining when Silver Leaf takes hold. The limb we took out seemed to contain a mixture of good wood and dying/dead wood. The leaves had dropped whereas they are still present on the remaining limbs. We can but hope.

 Postscript I'm very fond of the SLBI, both the house and the garden (and the people!). Unfortunately it will be closed for much of the year due to major building work to address some structural issues caused by subsidence. In many ways London is a collection of hills -Tulse Hill among them- and subsidence is not uncommon.

 It was rather poignant to see the building empty of all its contents. The builders were hard at it even as the last removal lorry was leaving. I hope there were still be opportunities to volunteer in the garden even though it will closed to the public for the duration of the works.

 The Acanthus mollis took a pounding in the frost and snow but this is a tough species with deep roots. The large leaves do flop in sub-zero cold. If conditions improve after a short time they raise themselves up again. The recent cold spell was prolonged and that did for them but fresh growth is already going strong.

 The old leaves are turning to mush on the ground; in effect the plant is laying down its own mulch. I'm generally happy to for plants to decompose where they stand which returns nutrients to the soil. 

 There were several good reasons for visiting Lewes in Sussex yesterday. It's a nice little town to wander around. Harvey's Brewery is based here and there are numerous decent pubs. I particularly like the Lewes Arms near the castle (though ironically it isn't a pub run by Harveys). The annual Seedy Saturday event was taking place in the Town Hall. There were various stalls selling and swapping seeds, plants and promoting local and national environmental initiatives. 

 There is a much larger event taking place in nearby Brighton today called (what else?) Seedy Sunday. But the Lewes version is a nice low key occasion to buy or swap seeds, eat wholesome veggie food and listen to folkies play old time guitar and fiddle music.

 Probably the best reason to visit Lewes is that it nestles in the South Downs making it a good point to access various trails on the eastern stretch of the Downs.

 One such is a steep lane just beyond the High Street that climbs with panoramic views above Lewes and the River Ouse (as seen in the first photo). At the top just past the golf course a sweeping vista opens up towards Mount Caburn. To Caburn and back is only an hour or two so it was just a stroll really but it was the first time this year I've got my legs pumping on some gradients.

 I strolled back the way I came stopping for a pint en route to the station. Did I mention I particularly like the Lewes Arms?  

 Snowdrop season is now well underway. These are in a nature reserve near Hitchin, Herts. A cottage once stood here and I should think a cottager once planted some in the garden and they have multiplied.

 Snowdrops can be said to grow wild but are generally found in the proximity of human habitation. The suggestion that they were introduced in Norman times as a symbol for Candlemass seems plausible. [see entry dated February 17th. 2017 concerning Ankerwicke Abbey]

 They can certainly naturalise when conditions are right. A stream runs beside the reserve flowing to a marshy expanse of wet woodland. There are Snowdrops along its course which I imagine may have spread from this cottage garden over time. 

 Having said that I suppose it's possible that they are a colony that pre-dates the cottage. Snowdrops may conceivably be a native of this island? 

These are the Common Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis).

 In the centre of Hitchin itself there is an area of woodland which was once part of the garden of a large house. Before that it was probably a wood that was assimilated into the grounds of the house. Snowdrops grow here in some profusion.

 These are the uncommon double flowered form Galanthus nivalis f. pleniflorus 'Flore Pleno'. Note the rather intricate ruffled inner of the flower by comparison with the single flowered G. nivalis.

 Double Snowdrops are a natural variation but since they dominate in this area it makes me think 'Flore Piano' was planted here when it was a woodland garden.

 Doing a bit of digging on the allotment I accidentally scooped out this bulb of Allium ampeloprasum var. babinigtoniii otherwise known as Babington's Leek. I planted five of them a few years ago and each one has formed a clump of half a dozen or so. I simply re-planted this one in another spot to multiply some more. Babington's Leek is thought to be the wild ancestor of our commonplace vegetable the Leek (Allium porrum).  

 So it's an edible but I've held off eating any till they increased somewhat, perhaps this year will be the year. But here's the thing: I was thinking of planting some Elephant Garlic which is not garlic as such but can be roasted etc. and has a mild garlic taste. Then I noticed that botanically speaking Elephant Garlic is Allium ampeloprasum. Are they in fact the same thing?

 Elephant Garlic is regarded as native to countries bordering the Mediterranean, Black and Adriatic Seas and in rocky coastal areas in Wales and the West Country. Babington's Leek is also said to grow wild in those parts of the British Isles. Which again begs the question are we talking about the same thing?

 In both cases there is speculation whether they are indeed native to these shores or an ancient even prehistoric introduction. 

PS Speaking of pre-history a neighbour on the allotments reminded me that February 1st. is Imbolc, the Gaelic festival of the beginning of spring which is probably neolithic in origin. It falls about half way between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Actually different traditions have it on different days between the 1st. and 4th. of February. So I think I have some leeway in wishing you all a Happy Imbolc.

PPS 3/02/23 The excellent website Plants For A Future has this to say about Babington's Leek: "Closely allied to the wild leek, A. ampeloprasum, differing mainly in its having more bulbils and fewer flowers in the flowering head". Nonetheless I suspect that the distinction is moot. 

 As befits a diary based around the four seasons there is a cyclical aspect to these entries. Thus I generally note the emergence of this patch of Winter Aconites (Eranthis hyemalis). They appear on a particular verge in Hertfordshire round about now, give or take a week or two depending on the weather.

 Most years I make a point of walking out from Hitchin to look at them; a cheerful sight with their bright yellow flowers and ruff of green.