Here comes the summer! We have passed the solar noon of the shortest day. 

 

 The hope of spring. I spotted this Primrose coming into flower amongst the leaf litter.

 

 I have walked along Tatmore Hills Lane a good many times. So it's familiar territory but I like the way a place or landscape reveals more about itself with each visit. Clearly it's an ancient track. Sunken lanes -sometimes called hollow lanes or hollaways- are invariably archaic.

 The lane meets a tarmac road at Sootfield Green. I passed by this spot recently (see entry 8th. Dec) and mused that "Green" in a place name sometimes referred to a clearing within a woodland. Sootfield Green lies between Wain Wood and West Wood. It seems reasonable to suppose that the various woods nearby are fragments of a much wider woodland that once existed.

 I thought of the walk from Wain to West Wood via Tatmore Hills in Bluebell season (see entry May 4th. 2023). Both woods are noted for their Bluebells and the hedgebanks along the lane are brimming with Bluebells and other woodland wildflowers. Notably there is a damp dell carpeted with Ramsons which are unusual round here (see entry 28th. April 2024).

 There are open fields on either side of the lane. I imagine they were formed by felling the surrounding tree cover centuries ago. It was common to retain a sliver of the original woodland to define the boundary rather than planting a hedge. That might explain the profusion of Bluebells, Ramsons and other woodlanders along the lane.

 Researching Sootfield Green I learned that Tatmore Hills Lane was once called Wayley Green Lane. A thousand years ago Welei was a community of around 60 people who farmed 240 acres hereabouts. Perhaps it was they who created the fields? Local historians have speculated that Welei meant "sacred grove" in Old English, possibly with the connotation that it was a grove sacred to heathens. It has been suggested the dell is the remnant of that grove. Such things precede any records so we may never know for sure. 

 I rambled this way today with a local walking group. I've been on their mailing list for a while but this is the first time I've joined them. I had just posted my entry about Sootfield Green when I received the mail that this was to be the meeting point of their walk so it seemed serendipitous. 

 The group has a particular interest in the flora and fauna of the area and pool their knowledge as they go. Always very interesting to chat with people who have their specialisms as well as general knowledge. We saw some great sights- ranging from a large Barn Owl in flight to tiny fungi on a branch. And it gave me another opportunity to ponder the history and mystery of Tatmore Hills Lane.   

Apricity

 Stinking Hellebore (Helleborus foetidus) in full flower a month or two earlier than usual.

 I often write about the botany and beauty of tending the gardens and grounds of the music school. In the interests of vérité I must note that today I had another task to perform: chucking out all the junk that's piled up by the shed over the years.

 Ostensibly there's not much to see at Sootfield Green. Basically a house on the road between Preston and Charlton in Hertfordshire. But it's marked on the OS map and is an ancient crossroads where the tarmacked road intersects with two lanes that are still muddy tracks.  

 Place names tell a story."Green" appears in so many place names in England. It might denote a village that has (or had) a green. Or it may convey another historical meaning: specifically, an area that was cleared within a woodland. Sootfield Green is now surrounded by large open fields. No doubt this whole stretch of countryside was once wooded. Some pockets of that extensive tree canopy still remain, for example Wain Wood is near here.

 The right fork as seen above also has a name that tells a story: Dead Woman's Lane. Evocative but it seems no-one really knows who she was or when she died. Directly behind me as I took this photo is Tatmore Hills Lane that was once called Wayley Green Lane. A local historian Philip Wray has written extensively on the history of the locality. He notes that "Almost a thousand years ago, Welie was a small community of around sixty souls near Preston". 

 He also quotes a reference from 1636 to "Sutefeild Green" and refers to a map of 1822 which shows Sutfield Wood close by, now a field. I had wondered if Sootfield might be connected to a practice such as charcoal burning but he states that -sut meant south in Old English.  

 

 The Pegsdon Hills in spring and Knocking Hoe in summer. I went for a walk yesterday and did my best to admire the bare trees, the fallow fields and the starkness of the landscape. But there was no getting away from it: we've reached that point of the year when it's cold, grey and bleak.

 I console myself with the thought that the wheel turns and spring will come. 

 Several stalwarts of the winter garden as planted by Jif at the music school. At the front of the border Stinking Hellebore (Helleborous foetidus). In the middle is Cornus sanguinea 'Midwinter Fire'. One of the Dogwoods it is green and leafy in summer with tiny white flowers but the bare stems in winter are what commends it to gardeners. At the back Mahonia x media is evergreen with bright yellow spikes of flowers that bloom from November onwards.

 As I noted recently H. foetidus is typically in flower January/February but seems to be much earlier in recent years in some locales... 

 

 A flinty field. I don't know if the conical pile is an artistic intervention or just a pile. Anyway, I picked up a flint and added it to the collection as I passed by.

 There are some mighty pines in and around the grounds of the music school. For example the one in the background of Thursday's photo must be a couple of hundred feet tall. It can be seen on the horizon from various viewpoints for miles around. 

 Actually it's in someone's front garden rather than the school grounds. The general area is known as Pinehill. I suspect most were planted when the house stood alone on top of the hill with fields sloping up to it. As mentioned in a previous entry it was commissioned by the Quaker botanist/pharmacist William Ransome who farmed the surrounding area. I imagine he instigated the planting of the numerous pines?

 Needless to say there is a considerable fall of needles and cones particularly in windy weather as recently. As with leaves they can lie where they fall on the beds but we sweep the tarmac and add them to the compost heaps. 

 In America 'pine straw mulch' is widely used as a compostable organic matter. They have a lot of it to compost I suppose. I used to have the idea that it might serve as an ericaceous compost since pine needles are somewhat acidic. Apparently it makes no difference to the soil PH.

 Curious fact. It's said that there are more giant redwoods planted in the UK than growing native in California: around half a million here as opposed to about 80,000 in the 'Redwood State'. Can that be true?  

So many walks in England begin at the village pub.

 Then along a lane...

Past the village church.

And out into the surrounding countryside.

 Blue sky and winter sun but frost lingers in the shadows well into the afternoon.  

 The diary has had a leaf fall theme lately. The high winds of Storm Bert have more or less bought that chapter to a close. Only the Oaks are stubbornly clinging on their leaves; they are usually among the last to drop.

 And another chapter is underway. Leaf litter has a dynamic ecology/biology of its own as fungi, bacteria and invertebrates go to work decomposing all that organic matter thereby enriching the topsoil.    

 In a brown shade.

Storm Bert has been blowing all day shaking the last leaves off the trees. 

 On the leaf pile: red Acer and golden Ginkgo.

 The various cultivars of Mahonia x media flower in late autumn/early winter. 'Charity' and the appropriately named 'Winter Sun' are two of the most popular. Hybrids of M. japonica and M. lomariifolia their genes tell them to flower now which is handy for gardeners trying to defy the season.

 Bumblebees will seek them out on milder days and even honey bees. These photos were taken last weekend but since then sub-zero temperatures have arrived.

 

 A stunning Acer in one of the courtyards at the music school.

 There are lots of trees at the music school so lots of leaves to sweep and rake during 'the fall'. But that's ok- a pleasing activity on a chilly, sunny Sunday morning.

 

 Wain Wood carpeted with leaves.

In open countryside the fields are fallow.

 

 Bulbs want to grow even when they aren't in the ground. Case in point this Narcissus February Gold. Today I planted various bulbs that I had not got round to planting in early autumn. Mid-November is a bit late but it hasn't been too cold and no frosts as yet. 

 An emerging stem is sometimes evident in bulbs that have been sitting around for a while. A bulb is bulbous by virtue of being a storage organ for nutrients and moisture during a period of dormancy. There is enough pent-up energy in the bulb to initiate growth even when out of the earth. Soon however the roots at the base soon need to draw sustenance from the soil or the bulb will shrivel.

 Finally some sun. The past few weeks have been very dull. I don't mean existentially, I'm talking about the weather. For whatever meteorological reason we have had day after day of low grey cloud without a glimpse of sunshine. So it's been a relief to see the sun this week and some blue sky. I've even felt the warmth of the sun on my cheek from time to time!

 As noted in my previous entry flowers are few and far between at this point in the year. Midsummer's Day (remember that?) is more or less the peak and the beginning of the decline. Most sun=most plants. Gardeners have long tried to fight the inevitable by sourcing plants that will flower in the latter part of the calendar.

 Generally that means using plants from other hemispheres that are hardy or at least half-hardy in UK conditions. Despite the relocation their biological clocks tell them to start flowering when others have faded. So it was nice to see pale sunlight playing across this border at the music school.

 The pink flowers in the foreground are Hesperantha I think, possibly one of the H. coccinea cultivars? This is a southern African genus. In the background the crimson spikes are one of the ground covering mat forming Persicaria. Probably a cultivar of P. affinis which hails from the Himalayas. 

 Flowers are few and far between till spring arrives. Nonetheless the occasional wild flower may suddenly appear out of season for no apparent reason. This looks like the annual 'weed' Nipplewort (Lapsana communis) on a bank that is covered with them during mid to late summer. This solitary specimen is very early (or very late). 

 

 

 The 'woodland walk' at the music school is really only a fringe of the grounds but it feels secluded. On a grey day like today it conjured a walk in the woods. The air was cold, still and damp. Plenty of greenery and the russet tones of autumn. Fallen leaves underfoot, squashy and scrunchy.

 Bumblebees are still on the wing here and there when autumn days are mild. Being furry creatures they tolerate a certain amount of cold and are generally indigenous to temperate rather than tropical zones. Indeed it is speculated that the Himalayas may be their point of origin.

 Honeybees need temperatures of around ten degrees Celsius or more to be able to fly and function. Nonetheless they too will venture out quite late into the year if it is warm enough. The hives at the music school were still fairly active as of a few days ago.

 Bumblebees will forage different plants seeking out sporadic flowers e.g. the Borage mentioned in my last entry. Honeybees work species that are flowering en masse; by this point in the year that means Ivy.

 The Borage on the allotment is still in flower and still attracting bees. Usually it's done by now. I'm wondering if they might overwinter. 

 Typically Borage is grown as an annual but sometimes lasts long enough into autumn to become a coarse, bristly-looking plant with thick stems as is the case here. In which case it seems to have the stamina to become a short-lived perennial in some locales.

 Then again the allotments are something of a frost pocket. Borago officinalis is a Mediterranean species and unlikely to cope with a prolonged spell of sub-zero temperatures. Go back a few decades and it would be unusual not to have had a hard frost by now in southern England. Now it's common to have to wait till December or January.

 The Jerusalem Artichokes grew mighty tall and lush this year. Now the leaves on the stems are starting to yellow and fade. Below ground there will be hundreds and hundreds of the edible tubers. 

 More than anyone could eat without exploding! They should be eaten with care (I speak from experience). Tasty and good for the gut microbiome but potentially 'gassy'.

 Being of the Sunflower family they have bright yellow flowers. Except they rarely and barely flower in UK conditions in my experience despite growing strongly.

 There are actually two beds side by side. On the left one of the usual varieties (not sure which) reached a good ten foot/three metres tall. On the left is a "dwarf" variety which nonetheless grew to about six feet! 

 I'll grow both again next year but I have read it's a good strategy to cut the stems at about five foot high. This prevents them being wind blown and directs more energy into the growth of the tubers. Not that it seems to matter here.

 No need to waste all that good organic matter. I adopted the 'chop and drop' approach and they can mulch themselves. I cut the stems just above the ground so I can locate the clumped tubers when I come to harvest them.

 It's said that Jerusalem Artichokes are a touch sweeter after frost. in any case I'll start harvesting them soon and then for the next few months. The best way to store them is to leave them in the ground until you want to eat them. 

 A very productive crop with little input required: plant them and they grow, chop and drop, harvest, replant spare tubers in February/March. Each tuber grows a handful more. Simple, delicious!

Life is a precious flower.

 A nice combination: Sedum and Hellebore as planted by Jif at the music school. Sedums flower in autumn, great for late colour in an herbaceous border. Helleborus foetidus is generally considered to be winter flowering i.e. January onwards. As I noted recently it seems to have reset its biological clock to begin flowering from mid-October. So there is now a striking overlap between the two.

 H. foetidus is native and I had always assumed that Sedums were introduced as garden plants. In fact S. telephium aka Orpine is native. And some of the popular garden Sedums are hybrids with the Chinese/Korean species S. spectabile for example 'Autumn Joy'. Actually I'm not sure which this is, probably one of the cultivars. Since Orpine is indeed native I'm wondering why I've never seen it growing wild? 

 Cyclamen hederifolium throws out long ground hugging stems...

 

...from a mass of coils that form after the flowers on the stalks fade.

 Thereby the stretching stems move the seed capsule away from the parent plant. When the capsule ripens up to a dozen seeds are cast from it. And C. hederifolium has another trick to propagate itself round and about. The seeds have a sticky, sugary coating which attracts ants who carry them away.  

On a grey day a look back at some colourful butterflies... 

beginning with the Chalk Hill Blue 

 

Red Admiral

Comma

Peacock

Brown Argus

Adonis Blue

Painted Lady