Bird bath. I parked a wheelbarrow on the allotment a couple of weeks ago; several rain showers have deposited an inch or two of water in it. I noticed this Blackbird washing itself with a flapping of wings and general splish splashing in the shallows. When gardening with nature in mind it's worth remembering: water is life.

 I quoted William Robinson  -Victorian horticulturalist and author of 'The Wild Garden'- in a recent entry concerning Summer Snowflakes. He said "they should be in any collection of British wildflowers" adding "and with them the Daffodil and the Wood-tulip (Tulipa sylvestris)."

 I know it as the Wild Tulip, though here it is planted by me on the wildflower patch on the allotment. It certainly looks wilder than the Tulips that grow in many an urn and flower border. I'm not sure how it attained the ephithet sylvestris because it needs to grow in a sunny spot as far as I can tell. 

 These days T. sylvestris is thought to be an introduction from the continent that naturalised centuries ago in meadows in central and eastern England.

 Good to be back gardening at the music school a couple of times a week. Their bee hives are buzzing. The gardens have been designed and maintained by my friend Jif over several decades but the beekeeper is Ashley who as it happens is one of my neighbours at the allotment.

 The main school building was once a grand house and certain facets of the original garden still exist. For example the white haze of Blackthorn dates from an earlier era- possibly a hedge run wild and become a thicket? All those flowers are manna for the bees...

 White Comfrey (Symphytum orientale) is non native to these shores, nonetheless has naturalised and grows wild here. In North Hertfordshire for example it has increased from sporadic to prolific during the past few decades. I used to spot it here and there, now I see it all over the place (which is fine by me). Mostly it grows in the ground though not always...

 Many entries to this diary are rather local to my localities, Hertfordshire and London in particular. It's best to speak of what you know. For example Gilbert White's much loved and pioneering book 'The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne' concerned his own parish.

 Anyway I took a stroll from my home town of Hitchin and noticed the River Hiz was as full and fast flowing as I can recall it. I walked out to the source of the Hiz not far from the village of Charlton.

 The spot where it rises is generally no more than a damp dell. Usually the river begins as a shallow stream flowing from a farm pond about a hundred yards from here. Indeed the pond itself is often just a muddy sump. Lately however a headwater has formed, testament to the wet winter we have had.

 I didn't have a very close view from the road so I circled round to the other side via a footpath behind the aptly named Wellhead Farm. Along these low hills the Chilterns escarpment slopes down to the flatness of East Anglia.

 Water seeps through the chalk bedrock at this spot. Clear spring water, not runoff.

 I could see ripples on the surface where the river rises.

 Over the course of a mile or so the Hiz becomes a fully fledged meander through fields and several wet woodlands with marshy margins. Then it is channelled where it passes through Hitchin. One of the defining characteristics of the town is that a river runs through it. From the late nineteenth century the introduction of a railway line became more significant and latterly several major roads and a nearby motorway.

 But the Hiz is still a feature feeding as it does into the River Ivel about ten miles away and ultimately into the River Great Ouse towards the Wash and the North Sea. Notably, the Hiz is a chalk stream. There are said to be 210 chalk streams globally, 160 of them are in England and a good many of those are in the 'Southern England Chalk Formation'.

 No doubt there is something to be said for the Nile, the Yangtze and the Mississippi but they are not chalk streams. So I consider my journey to the source of the Hiz to be a successful expedition.

 It seems like the shed on the allotment may have visitors. Well, I call it the shed but in size it's more like an outdoor cupboard. In fact I don't keep much in there but today I opened the door to get a trowel and noticed was a nest inside. I'm sure it wasn't there before; nesting season is already underway with the mild spring we're having.

 Needless to say the door is kept shut but this dangling bit of slat creates an opening.

 I took a quick pic, not very distinct in the low light but I wanted to close the door as quickly as possible so as not to disturb. A beautifully smooth and rounded bowl has been formed within a mass of dry leaves and stems on top of an old packing crate.

 No eggs yet and no sign of a bird. A pair of Robins were very active around the allotment as I was digging earlier, perhaps it's theirs? Robins are known for liking open fronted nests (which this is in a way) and they sometimes nest close to the ground which seems like a risky strategy. 

 There was a Robin's nest in the garden shed of a friend of mine a few years ago. Low enough unfortunately for a local cat to get in and do what cats do. The opening in this shed is small so should be reasonably secure.

 I hope I haven't scared the new occupants away; I'll keep the door closed and see what happens. It's a small shed but a large nesting box (hopefully). 

 Primrose time. I imagine the Common Primrose (Primula vulgaris) was probably one of the first plants to cross from being a wild species to a cultivated one. I feel sure the cottage gardens and flowery meads of old would have propagated the Primrose from the surrounding countryside. And to this day P. vulgaris is both a prolific wildflower and a popular garden plant.

 I mentioned Trachystemon orientalis recently. Some books describe it as invasive. I prefer to think of it as vigorously self-propagating. The above spread from a single pot. Moreover I've used these as a 'mother bed' to propagate new plants by division. Just break off a length of rooty rhizome to stick in the ground somewhere else...

 

 Soloman's Seal is a common name for numerous species in the Polygonatum genus in North America, Europe and Asia. Several are native to the UK and sometimes grown as garden plants as seen above in Regent's Park, London. Actually these may be one of the cultivars rather than the straight species, they look very similar.

 I ordered ten knobbly rhizomes of Polygonatum multiform from Shipton Bulbs. Five I planted straight into the ground. The others I potted up to plant out later. They are too long for standard pots so I made use of plastic trays -the pummets that mushrooms are sold in by supermarkets- with drainage holes drilled in the bottom. Plastic has its uses for things that are meant to last; unfortunately we treat it as a disposable item.

 I gather the right way to align the rhizomes is with the 'claw' arching over the rhizome in the direction you want the stems to arch. Having said that plants tend to grow towards the light. So I imagine the stem may adjust its direction accordingly when it begins to poke through the ground?

  I have spot in mind along a fence where I want the stems to point into the garden so it makes sense to orient the claw towards the light. I marked the trays with an x denoting the direction of travel. 

 Summer Snowflakes (Leucojcum aestivum). NB they flower in spring, unlike the Spring Snowflake (Leucojum vernum) which flowers in late winter. In his seminal book 'The Wild Garden' the Victorian horticulturalist William Robinson wrote that Snowflakes should be "in any collection of British wildflowers". The ones I planted here are 'Gravetye Giant', descendants of Robinson's selection from the wild which he naturalised around his country estate at Gravetye Manor. 

  Both Snowflakes are native and L. aestivum is found growing by the thousands in the marshy margins of the River Loddon in Berkshire. Indeed one of the common names for this species is Loddon Lilly. [see entry dated 18th. April 2017] 

 Curiously it is prolific here but found almost nowhere else. Is this a particularly suitable habitat that has been lost elsewhere? And yet it is by no means a bog plant. I find that 'Gravetye Giant' grows in a variety of garden soils (including dryish/free draining ones) so why is this adaptable bulb not more widespread in the countryside?

 Mea culpa. I published an entry this time last year identifying these clumps as Spring Snowflakes because I had forgotten which of the two I had planted. I overlooked the fact that L. vernum has only one flower per stem whereas L. aestivum has between three and seven...

 Frog legs. I noticed several sizeable frogs in the pond this afternoon. This one is partially obscured by a drift of tapioca-like frogspawn, the breeding season is underway. Earlier in the day I saw a Thrush hopping around collecting bits of moss and stems of grass to layer her nest. Spring is here. 

 Delivery from Shipton Bulbs. Five each of Wood Cransebill, Valerian, Foxglove, Dame's Violet and ten of Soloman's Seal. Shipton specialise in wildflower species and they sell them in the autumn and spring only. Perennials and biennials are dug up and dispatched bare root, bulbs are freshly lifted in autumn or sent 'in the green' in spring. Though cultivated they are about as close as you can get to actual wild plants.

 In a Jefferson state of mind. Jefferson would be the 51st. state of the United States if it existed. Broadly speaking Jefferson would encompass northern California and southern Oregon. As a concept Jefferson has had its advocates from the forties onwards noting that this vast area can be considered a territory in its own right. Small towns and rural enclaves are separated by huge tracts of wilderness.

 It came to mind in an idle moment when I wanted some background listening and turned the dial on my internet to Jefferson Public Radio. This NPR station is so named because its transmitters roughly correspond to the geography of that imaginary state.

 I have backpacked in the region several times (subject of numerous entries in this diary). My first visit in 2016 began in Dunsmuir where the Amtrak Coast Starlight stops once a day. From there I headed to Mount Shasta. Then in 2017 I travelled on to the next stop Klamath Falls -about 75 miles further north- to get to Crater Lake. In 2018 I used Dunsmuir as a starting point again to trek out to Mount Eddy.

 I met a bunch of good people. Some were very liberal in their views and some were very conservative, all were friendly and helpful. I think it's a place where people are shaped by the landscape as much as they are by politics, in a Jefferson state of mind.

 A grey, rainy Sunday but when the sun shines the days are mild and wonderfully fresh. Like on Friday when I walked out to Oughtonhead Common. The area has drained somewhat since I was there a few weeks ago but it's still marshy.

Glorious today.

 Pachyphragma macrophyllum is another early flowering perennial. Native to Turkey and the Caucasian regions like the aforementioned Trachystemon orientalis. Both do well in shade and as it happens both are monotypic i.e. the only species in their genus.  

 Not much planted in British gardens P. macrophyllum doesn't seem to be common enough to have a common name. Some nurseries call it Caucasian Penny-Cress in reference to being of the Brassicaceae aka the crucifers/mustards/cabbage family.

 The earliest of the spring perennials are in flower. Oriental Borage (Trachystemon orientalis) is always one of the first and invaluable for bees starting to emerge. The flowers bear a resemblance to the annual Borage and it is of the Boraginaceae family. Native to Bulgaria, Turkey and the Caucasian region, very hardy in UK conditions, grows in shade including dry shade.

 Spring is about a month early in England judging by most reports. I expect Grape Hyacinths (Muscari armeniacum) to be flowering sometime in March but these were already in flower by the end of February.  

 Mulching the Rhubarb patch with wood chip. These are the shreddings of some of the branches from the Fig trees I was pruning a few weeks ago. Fresh woody matter is best applied as a mulch. It decomposes slowly releasing nutrients while helping to retain moisture in the soil.

 It is sometimes said that uncomposted wood chips 'rob' nitrogen and other nutrients from the soil during their decomposition by bacterial action. Digging them in might result in a short lived and minimal depletion of nutrients until 'digested'. As a surface mulch that effect is negligible and more than outweighed by the benefits.