Sit spot. Further to my last entry I've been thinking about other places where I make a point of sitting or standing to look at the view and contemplate life in general. Another would be the pillbox on the edge of Swyre in Dorset looking towards West Bexington and the Chesel Beach. The roof makes an excellent vantage point.

 We holidayed near here when I was a child and I return to this spot whenever I visit this stretch of the coast. I suppose a convenient resting place with a vista makes an ideal sit spot. Then again it could be somewhere more secluded or anywhere where it's pleasant to pass the time and observe nature.

 Them thar hills. When I'm in my home town of Hitchin I generally make a point of walking over Windmill Hill to take in the view across the rooftops to the hills beyond. Hitchin is situated in a broad, low valley one side of which is formed by the edge of the Chilterns escarpment. This section is generally referred to as the 'Chilterns extension' but is part and parcel of that bulge of chalk that rises through a swathe of Southern England.

 The vista is always the same but always different. The novelty of being somewhere new can be interesting and exciting. Nonetheless there is value in seeing a familiar place change with the seasons, the weather and indeed with one's own moods. I don't meditate or practice 'mindfulness' but returning to a particular place is I suppose a form of mindful meditation.

 Permaculture uses the concept of a 'sit spot' to observe nature. Thinking about it I have a number of sit spots where I pause on various paths and places I return to. In London for example it is the park on the brow of Telegraph Hill at the top of my road. Not that one has to sit but just to be there is the thing.    

 Many of the trees are bare now but there is still plenty of autumn colour. We had good leaf growth this year due to a damp spring and July was rainy keeping the ground moist (unlike last year's prolonged heatwave). The autumnal months have been rather warm and wet extending the growing season. 

 The accumulation of sugars in leaves (through the action of chlorophyll/photosynthesis) is absorbed by the tree as winter dormancy approaches. Thus we have spectacular displays of those fiery reds and blazing yellows which turn to mottled browns as they fade. Even more so this year with the weather we've had.

 Thinking back on that walk over the Pegsdon Hills in September [see last entry] I was reminded of a couple of snaps that I meant to post at the time.

 These days the hills are managed for nature conservation and the grass is grazed by sheep with that in mind. Once the sheep would have been there for purely agricultural reasons. There is a photograph in Hitchin museum taken in the nineteenth century on these same hills. It shows a shepherd with his flock and he seems as remote to our time and place as discovering a lost tribe in the Amazon.

 As L.P. Hartley once put it "The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there". A noticeable trend in conservation management is to connect with the past by reintroducing historic breeds of livestock. I approached the hills through Hoo Bit nature reserve and the black sheep of the family were milling around:

 Now the nights have drawn in I find myself thinking of some of the walks I did on those long summer days. A particular locale comes to mind on my familiar stomping ground the Pegsdon Hills.

 One day in August I approached them via a slightly different route than usual which took me through the Hoo Bit nature reserve. The path opens out onto a wonderfully shimmering expanse of grassland which felt like some remote steppe or tundra.

 In fact this area is nestled between the folds of the Chilterns in Hertfordshire and the flatness of Bedfordshire. The lie of the land makes it feel removed from both. Here I felt separate from the crowds and hubbub of town and city. 

 I returned one early evening in September. The sun was low, ebbing towards twilight. The landscape seemed ethereal, otherworldly. I must return to the same spot if we have a cold winter to see it dusted with frost or covered in snow.   

 

Autumn has not yet given way to winter.

 The Mahonia x media cultivars have names like 'Winter Sunshine' with flowers (and bees) at the tail end of the year. Tough shrubs which cross the wild species M. lomariifolia and M. japonica. 

 

 Stinking Hellebore (Helleborus foetidus) flowers early but this is very early, or should that be very late? I would expect to see the lime green buds unfurling as soon as January but mid-November is well ahead of schedule. This clump is in sun but others in a shady woodland glade nearby are still dormant.

 The crops of summer are stubble now.

 A walk in the woods on a blustery day. The trees are in their autumn colours. These wintery winds will shake them bare in the days ahead. 

 Nice to be out though. Bright blue sky when I wandered through Wain Wood this afternoon. Low raking sun illuminated the woodland floor.

 

 An autumnal scene at the music school: evergreens, golden leaves and bare trees.

 Geranium macrorrhizum is sometimes referred to as Big-Root Cranesbill. This mat-forming species does indeed have what can be considered to be a big root/rhizome. Not sure if either description is entirely accurate because roots/rhizomes are subterranean. I separated several specimens from a large patch in another garden to replant in my own. Their long stems were mainly on the surface, more like stolons in that regard.

 Big-Root Cransebill is renowned as a tough plant that will grow in sun, part shade and full shade including dry shade. Most of the common varieties flower in hues of pink but the ones I liberated are G. macrorrhizum 'Album' which I particularly like. The flowers are white with the merest hint of pink. 

 G. macrorrhizum is native to Southeast Europe. There is also a pure white variety sold as 'White-Ness' which is said to originate on Mount Olympus no less. 

 Another transplant. I read somewhere that Stinking Hellebore (Helleborus foetidus) doesn't like root disturbance. Hopefully I got a big enough clump of the rootball to ease the transition.

 The Stinking Hellebore and the Stinking Iris don't stink but the foliage does smell a bit foetid if crushed.

 The bright berries of Stinking Iris (Iris foetidissima) glow in shady spots. They look succulent but they're toxic to humans. Birds eat them but my impression is they only do so if other food sources are scarce. Thus they add a splash of colour to the garden in the winter months. 

 Also a very common wild plant in woodland, hedgerows and scrub. One of two Irises native to the UK, the other being Yellow Flag Iris (Iris pseudacorus).

 It's that time of year. Spent the morning sweeping and raking soggy and scrunchy leaves at the music school. Lovely autumnal smell on a bright but chilly morning. Glorious.

We are the Village Green Preservation Society.

 The turf has been scalped in several large patches in the grassy areas adjoining Windmill Hill in the centre of Hitchin. Too large for flower beds in the conventional sense but I surmised the council must be intending to create 'meadows' by seeding with wildflowers. That was confirmed a few days later when I spotted a poster about the scheme.

 Removing the existing grass is generally a prerequisite for trying to create a meadow as most wildflower species cannot compete with the rye grasses used for amenity areas and lawns. Meadow grasses have a symbiotic relationship with the wildflowers that grow among them. And wonderful names too- Sweet Vernal Grass, Crested Dogstail, Chewing's Fescue, Yorkshire Fog et al.

 It's probably impossible to recreate an ancient turf even by using comparable species, that's why it's so important to hang on to the ones that remain. Nonetheless these contemporary meadows are a welcome trend. Typically certain vigorous plants tend to dominate to eye catching effect e.g. Ox-eye Daisy and Knapweeds. Case in point the music school has an area sowed with a native meadow mix (above).

Postscript...

 Ironically Windmill Hill has a wonderful display of Wild Clary on the steep banks where it borders the town centre. Well, it would be a wonderful display except it gets cut down most years before it flowers! Back in 2020 I walked across the hill and was taken aback to see a stunning haze of blue/purple. [see entry dated 14th. May of that year] The first lockdown meant that mowing operations were suspended and the Clary flourished.

 The banks are surely a survival from the days when the countryside extended right into the centre of Hitchin over Windmill Hill. I have written to the council to suggest their plans for the new meadows should include the proper management of the meadow that is already there.

 The autumnal sort out of the garden is a good time for transplanting. I planted Stinking Iris (Iris foetidissima) years ago and they have increased steadily over time. I carefully lifted several young ones which I replanted in another area.

 I also dug up some of the White Comfrey (Symphytum orientale) on the allotment to transfer to the garden. As I mentioned last week it has seeded itself into one of the beds resulting in some unintentional propagation. They too are young-ish plants but the long tap root is already well developed.