I covered this bed on the allotment with cardboard several months ago. It's pretty mushy by now but still working as a permeable membrane to suppress weeds.

 It would be fine to let plain brown cardboard disintegrate and mulch into the soil but I'm ready to use this bed so I removed it. Underneath there was a thatch of decaying organic matter which I raked off. 

 In fact all the weeds and seeds remaining in the soil will make a comeback now they are exposed to sunlight. It would be necessary to cover a bed for at least a year or two to eliminate them. Last year's Borage and Nasturtium self-seeded here so I want them to germinate.

 And this is what I planted: knobbly Jerusalem Artichokes. I grew some in the adjacent bed last year. They got very tall, about 9ft high by late September at which point a few flowers appeared. The Borage and Nasturtium made a nice underplanting.

 This year I'm trying a variety called 'Stampede' which are said to grow to about 6ft and flower in July. I hope so, the bright yellow flowers of Jerusalem Artichokes are an attractive sight. Botanically speaking they are Helianthus tuberosus, the same genus as Sunflowers. 

 It's also a good time to dig up this year's harvest. This pile is the crop that resulted from four or five of the twenty or so tubers I planted last time. Each one has generated at least a dozen more!

 Jerusalem Artichokes don't store particularly well which doesn't matter; leave them in the ground and dig them up when you need them. Late winter is the best time, they are said to be a touch sweeter after frosts. In spring they will start to sprout new stems; this is a species that multiplies itself prolifically and requires no maintenance. The surplus can be replanted.

 I'm not sure which variety I planted before. I bought them at a farmers' market where they were being sold for culinary purposes. As seen above they have a reddish tinge to the skin when the mud is scrubbed off.

 At this point I should strike a note of caution. Back in the seventeenth century the botanist John Goodyer had this to say:

"which soever way they be dressed and eaten, they stir and cause a filthy loathsome stinking wind within the body, thereby causing the belly to be pained and tormented".

 He's got a point. What's good/bad about Jerusalem Artichokes is they are rich in inulin which is a non-digestible prebiotic fibre. Nonetheless it does great things for your gut microbiome as it passes through. Roasting Artichokes is one option and some people even have them raw in salads which is brave. I reckon the best way to avoid indigestion is to make soup. 

 I have made a vat comprising olive oil, onions, garlic, dried turmeric, paprika, Artichokes and carrots (half and half), water with vegetable stock, lemon slices and black pepper. Once the veg was cooked I used a blender for a consistency somewhere between watery and creamy. By doing so the fibre will still be present but as small particles rather than chunks. Delicious and very palatable.

 Two plants that spread by runners otherwise known as stolons i.e. plant stems that grow horizontally forming new plants. Hedge Woundwort (Stachys sylvatica) has slender stolons just below the surface of the soil whereas Creeping Comfrey (Symphytum ibericum) has thicker stolons at ground level.

 When queen bumblebees emerge from hibernation they need sustenance. That can be a problem if the days get warmer before much is in flower and they must seek out what nectar and pollen is available.

 Yesterday the sky was blue, the sun was shining, the air was mild and fresh. Accordingly I went for walk and stopped for a pint at a village pub. I sat in the garden near a border with several large Hellebores and they were buzzing with big bumblers. These are our native Helleborus foetidus which flower early in the year.

 Arum italicum will prosper in the driest of dry shade and provides year round interest. The marbled leaves emerge in autumn and last all winter, a pale yellow spadix/spathe flower appears in spring looking rather like a rod in a cowl. Then in summer the leaves wither and the inflorescence morphs into a spike of green berries which turn bright red/orange as autumn approaches. A lush looking plant but every part is toxic. 

 I have seen it sold as Arum italicum, Arum marmoratum and Arum 'Pictum' but they seem to be one and the same as far as I can tell.  Always gets a mention in articles about what to grow in dry shade which is one of the toughest spots to find plants for. The above is just such an area. However I got the idea for planting A. italicum by looking over the fence and noticing my neighbours had a very handsome clump in the adjacent location. If it works for them it will work for me I thought and so it proved.

 Oughtonhead Common. I have been reading 'Wild Flower Habitats of Hertfordshire' by Brian Sawford which was published back in 1990. He mentions this area several times noting that "Marshes fed with highly calcerous waters can support a great variety of wild flowers". 

 He also notes it is one of the county's few remnants of marsh on boulder clay and refers to its wet grassland, sedge beds and fen characteristics. I intend to return to Oughtonhead at regular intervals in the year ahead.

 

 This sleepy queen bumblebee is a bit confused. A big bumbler at this time of year will be a queen coming out of hibernation. They generally overwinter by burrowing underground in loose, well-drained soil so I don't know why or how this one appeared indoors in an upstairs room. Perhaps they hibernate in more places than we imagine?

 Today was mild and sunny, felt like spring rather than winter. If bumblebees emerge too soon there is a danger there will not be enough plants in flower to feed on. Fortunately Cherries (i.e. Prunus species) flower early in the year.

 A splash of bright blossom in town or country at this point in the season will likely be a Cherry. There are over 400 species in the Prunus genus worldwide not to mention cultivars. A good many have been introduced to our gardens, parks and streets.

 In the countryside many remnant hedgerows contain Prunus in the mix, for example Wild Cherry, Bird Cherry and Blackthorn. Farmers and landowners used readily available native species amenable to being shaped and maintained as dense, tall barriers. During the twentieth century many of the hedges that survived became neglected and grew into disjointed rows of trees.

 I walked down one such track in Hertfordshire this morning. I was alerted to the presence of bumblebees by their very loud buzzing as they made their way round the blossom.

These drifts of Snowdrops caught my eye in a Quaker burial ground.

 Spring draws in a little sooner in London than the surrounding counties. In the garden it's an opportunity to welcome some old favourites- and a few surprises. I was amazed to see the pink flowers of Cardamine quinquefolia starting to emerge. 

 There is a lovely patch of them at the South London Botanical Institute. Some time ago (five years or so?) one of their gardeners gave me a small clump about the size of the palm of my hand. I planted it and then... nothing. Or so I thought. 

 A few weeks ago I noticed the appearance of some toothy low growing foliage. The penny didn't drop despite the five-lobed leaves i.e. "quinquefolia". Anyway, I was thrilled when I saw the first flowers and realised what I was looking at. Moreover the leaves are popping up across an area about a metre square so it seems to have been spreading steadily and biding it's time...

Sunny in South London.

 Working in central London all weekend and all next week. So a glimpse of the hills from a moving train will have to suffice for communing with nature. I sometimes walk a footpath on the brow of the farthest hill. Indeed I have observed this railway line from there and watched trains passing this very spot.

 

 It's a waiting game. There are intimations of spring but we're not there yet.

 On grey London days the Snowdrops in the garden give me hope.

 I look closely at the ground for small signs of spring. For example these little sprigs...

...will become these beautiful flowers. The exquisite Smyrnium perfoliatum.  

 Catkins are a familiar sight in late winter and spring. A catkin is a spike of flowers albeit hanging in most cases. Generally wind pollinated though by insects in some species (where the catkins tend to be shorter and fatter). Most appear before the leaves which as an evolutionary trait increases their chance of success by wind pollination.

 Catkins are single-sex flowers; typically (though not always) 'male' which disperse pollen to 'female' flowers or catkins. Plants with catkins can be monoecious (i.e. have both male and female flowers) or dioecious (i.e. have either male or female flowers).

 Hazel is a common catkin at this time of year (as seen above). Each one has up to two hundred male flowers which are wind pollinated. Being a monoecious species Hazel also has female flowers. I didn't think to take a close up but note what looks like a red bud on top of the twig that bears the Catkins, that is a female flower (resembling a tiny red tassel).

 Moreover Hazel avoids self-fertilisation because the female flower becomes fertile after the catkins on that tree have ripened and shed their pollen. Thereby the female flowers are more likely to cross-fertilise with pollen from another tree. The resulting fruit is the good old Hazelnut, up to four from each bud.  

 Reducing these Fig trees for the third year running. They were getting so tall that the upper branches were becoming unreachable even with a stepladder and pole saw. A standard piece of advice for hard pruning overgrown trees and shrubs is to do it over the course of two or three years rather than one drastic chop.

 I have reduced their height by about a third in total as well as thinning out some of the voluminosity. Figs grow very quickly but I think from next year I will be able to maintain them from ground level using the pole. The saw is interchangeable with a pair of loppers operated by pulling a cord which should be sufficient to trim new growth at the top. 

 I walked past that patch of Winter Aconites again today [see last entry]. This time they were illuminated by bright winter sunshine and the golden yellow flowers were unfurled as if to greet the light.