When I was a few years old I was toddling through Ransoms Recreation Ground with my father. I saw a man with a fork on the adjoining allotments and I asked my father what he was doing. "He's digging his allotment" he replied. Today there was another man digging on those same allotments- it was me.

 Every autumn I plant a few more bulbs of Erythronium Pagoda in the shady 'woodland' area of my back garden in London. They're accumulating nicely, forming a gentle drift. The flowering is brief but beautiful. 

 

 A shapely example of one of my favourite shrubs Japanese Quince. This looks like the cultivar Chaenomeles x superba 'Crimson and Gold'. Seen here as standalone specimen but a good hedging plant as well. The fruits are sometimes used to make jams and jellies. 

 Good thing about plants- if they aren't growing where you want them you can dig them up in spring or autumn and plant them where you do. This clump of Stinking Iris (Iris foetidissima) has been developing over the past few years among some not very productive Raspberry canes on the allotment. 

 I used to mulch the patch with pine needles and Stinking Iris grows under the Corsican Pine I gathered them from. No doubt some berries arrived in the mulch. By now the clump was large enough to divide into four sturdy specimens when I took it home.

 The dry valleys of the Pegsdon Hills.

 

 A glimpse of the English countryside from a London-bound train.

 Shipton Bulbs dispatch bare root plants in spring and autumn. Bulbs go out in autumn with a selection 'in the green' in spring. This time round I ordered 5 of: Greater Stitchwort, Purple Loosestrife, Dames Violet, Solomon's Seal and a couple of Stinking Iris. All very hardy, not long out of the ground and ready to go back in.

 Sometimes called Lords-and-Ladies or Cuckoo Pint our native Arum maculatum is actually a bulbous plant. Shipton sell it in the autumn but last week I had to clear quite a few from a border we are rejuvenating at the music school. Accordingly I forked them out 'in the green' so to speak and replanted them in my garden.

 I think the foliage will wilt and die back with that kind of treatment but as long as the bulb survives they may recover next year. 

 Cherry Plum is in blossom as noted in my last entry but not a lot else is flowering as yet. Celandines and Dog Violets are appearing here and there. And the green shoots of Dog's Mercury are sprouting en masse in the woods. The cold winter has meant that spring flowers are not appearing unseasonably early which has often been the case in recent times. 

 But it's coming, case in point Spurge Laurel as seen above. Daphne laureola is a shrub of open woodlands and hedgerows on chalky soil. Actually it's not a Spurge or a Laurel but resembles both so Spurge Laurel is an apt description. 

 Today is the Spring Equinox, sometimes called the Vernal Equinox. There's not much in flower in the English countryside as yet after the cold winter we've had. But the bright white blossom of Cherry Plum (Prunus cerasifera) is flowering in the hedgerows drawing hungry bumblebees from hibernation. Soon to be followed by the equally bright blossom of Blackthorn and Hawthorn.

 Into the blue again. March is having some mild and sunny days (and some cold, grey ones too). I hopped on a bus from Hitchin to Lilley, walked across Lilley Hoo to the Pegsden Hills then past Knocking Hoe down to Pirton where I got a bus back into town. The air was fresh, uplifting.

 Wood chip is nutrition for plants. Every year I prune a couple of enormous Fig trees. My father planted them a few decades ago and they grow very quickly. I put the branches through the shredder and mulch the Rhubarb patch on the allotment. The white wood quickly mellows to mottled brown.

 Well, this is the sort of thing I find thrilling. Millions wouldn't but I do. I planted Ramsons aka Wild Garlic (Allium ursinum) in this old porcelain planter on the patio. I planted them in the form of bulbs several years ago and they have begun to propogate themselves on the ground around the planter. The emerging leaves are clearly visible, so too around another planter further down the garden.

 In the wild Ramsons carpet damp shady areas particularly on the westerly side of Britain. They spread by bulbils, offsets and seeds but this is the first year they have appeared around the planters. Why? Some set of atmospheric conditions they have found favourable? Or perhaps seeds and/or bulbils have matured by now into bulbs? 

 Two early Narcissi. The first is 'Tête-à-Tête', the second is 'February Gold'. In fact neither flowered till March this year due to the the cold spell. They look rather similar as both have the reflexed petals of N. cyclamineus in the genes. 'Gold' is a cross with N. pseudonarcissus and quite tall like our Wild Daffodil. The ancestry of 'Tête' is obscure possibly x tazetta and it's daintier than 'Gold'.

 Postscript  Since writing this entry I have read that 'Tête-à-Tête' was cultivated by a British breeder Alec Grey circa 1949. It is said to be allotriploid i.e. contains two genomes of one species and one genome from another. In this case a cross between N. cyclamineus and N. 'Cyclataz' which is itself a cross between N. cyclamineus and N. 'Grand Soleil d'Or'. That last is believed to be an archaic cultivar of N. tazetta but its origins are unknown. 

Sedum, sometimes called Stonecrop.

 

 The meadow at the music school is a mass of Ox-Eye Daisies and Knapweeds in high summer. In spring we shear the dried out stalks to the ground where the new growth is already emerging. I used a petrol brush cutter rather than a scythe for that but the traditional pitchfork still comes in useful.

 Spot the Brimstone basking in the sun.

 The bees at Benslow were buzzing in the spring sunshine. Not in great numbers but a steady coming and going. I began seeing the occasional bumblebee about a week ago and today was warm enough for honey bees to emerge from their hives. Their flight muscles need temperatures above 10 °C and today was several degrees warmer than that. I also saw my first butterfly of the year- the yellow flutter of a Brimstone.

 The flowering of Daffodils and Snowdrops is overlapping this year. I think Snowdrops were a little late to flower during the cold spell and the early Daffs are coming on strong in the spring sunshine.

 

 "Tommies" (Crocus tommasinianus) are usually a feature of February's round up of plants in flower along with Snowdrops and Winter Aconites. I must have planted hundreds in my garden in London over the years.

 The flowering has been brief this year, wilting in the hard frosts. Those in pots and containers in sheltered spots seem to have fared a little better than naturalised in grass and borders. But they're tough and will be back next year.

 Spring has sprung and bumblebees are starting to emerge. These are queens foraging for nectar before looking for nest sites. I formed the impression that last year was a bad one for bumblebees, particularly during the cold, damp spring. Research published recently by the Bumblebee Conservation Trust confirms that so here's hoping for more clement conditions in the weeks ahead.

 Walking through the pine plantation on the north side of Wain Wood. I experienced the sensation of complete calm. Not a breath of wind; the very air was silent and still. Despite the chill I could feel the warmth of the spring sun.

 

Snowdrops in the garden.

 Sometimes I forget what I planted in a pot. So it was a nice surprise when these Crocus tommasinianus Albus made their appearance. To quote Shipton Bulbs who I bought them from a few years ago: "the uncommon white form of the species".

 As noted in my previous entry wild plants are frequently those species that co-exist with human habitation/activity. Here is Red Deadnettle (Lamium purpureum), a prolific self-seeding annual that thrives on disturbed or cultivated ground.

 There are some niche species that persist because their environment is isolated, for example in crevices on a cliff face. However there is little or no wilderness to speak of in the UK so our flora has long had a symbiotic relationship with human endeavour: hay meadows, coppiced woods, hedgerows etc. As these habitats of an earlier age disappear thoughts turn to conserving or recreating them.

 Fortunately certain species like Red Deadnettle are as suited to modern life as times gone by. Lamium purpureum flowers early and flowers long which is a boon for bees. 

 We worry about habitat loss and seek to "re-wild" certain places but it's worth remembering that we continue to be surrounded by wild plants. For example White Comfrey (Symphytum orientale) has become a widespread wildflower in parts of the UK albeit naturalised rather than native. The handsome specimen seen here has happily wilded itself into a bag of builder's rubble.

 The decline of many species is largely due to the fact that farmers, gardeners etc. consider them to be weeds for practical or aesthetic reasons. Those that thrive are the ones most able to co-exist with modern life. 

 Planting "wild" flowers is in a sense a contradiction in terms. It proceeds from the ethos that there is indeed a practical or aesthetic value to growing them.  

 Giving the soil a tickle. The loose soil on the surface of this bed had hardened to a crust which reduces the soil porosity so I gave it a 'tickle'. A lady who happened to be passing said she thought that topsoil shouldn't be disturbed. Interesting that the 'no-dig' approach advocated by Charles Dowding and others has become a commonplace.

 There's a lot to be said for it -soil is a self-sustaining ecosystem- but my approach is low-dig on the whole. There is a saying in permaculture that "everything gardens". Soil is constantly"gardened" by micro-organisms, invertebrates, mammals, the weather etc. sometimes quite deeply, for example when the roots of a falling tree lever up a large amount of earth. So I don't think ruffling the soil is disastrous and can be preferable to doing nothing.

 In fact we will probably seed this bed with grass seed in the spring to extend the adjacent lawn. But for now the bulbs are coming through so it may as well look like a tended border. And there is no point in sowing seed on a compacted surface because it will not take. A bit more tickling will be appropriate when the time comes.

 The Common Snowdrop and the Stinking Hellebore.

 Hazel Catkins, the wind pollinated male flower of the Hazel tree. In fact there are 240 flowers on each dangly stem. I can attest to how much pollen they produce because I accidentally bashed a branch recently. I was covered in a cloud of yellow dust.

 Hazels have both male and female flowers (which are tiny) but the tree cannot pollinate itself so the pollen must alight on another Hazel. The female flower looks like a bud with a red tassel, just about visible to the right of the Catkins seen here: 

 'Galanthophiles' are fascinated by slight variations in the patterns on the petals of the various Galanthus species and cultivars. I can see that's intriguing from the botanical point of view but for me the beauty of Snowdrops is seeing them en masse in a natural setting.

 These look to be our Common Snowdrop (G. nivalis) which has been naturalised in Britain for centuries. The characteristic upturned green v is evident at the mouth of the inner petal. No-one really knows when the Common Snowdrop arrived. Was it the Romans, the Normans or sometime in the 1500s? Some say it might be native. Being common G. nivalis is the ancestor of numerous deliberate and accidental hybrids. 

 When I was a child the ruins of an old cottage were still standing in this pocket of woodland. I have always imagined the Snowdrops were once planted by a cottager and have slowly spread themselves around.

 The Hellebore most commonly planted in gardens is Helleborus argutifolius, sometimes called the Corsican Hellebore or the Holly-Leaved Hellebore. Native to Corsica and Sardinia it is hardy in UK conditions. Easier to establish than H. foetidus which seems to flourish only on well drained chalky soils.

 Both species have green flowers (not many plants do) but the flowers of H. argutifolius are more open and bowl-like. Unlike the Stinking Hellebore its foliage has a serrated edge, hence argutifolius meaning sharp-toothed leaves.

 Pollinators can be seen foraging for pollen and nectar as soon as it becomes available to them- if the weather is mild enough. In fact this photo is from February a couple of years ago. We have become accustomed to warmer winters in the UK but not this year. Snowdrops are in flower as are Winter Aconites, Hellebores etc. but I have yet to see any pollinators on the wing, it's just too cold.

 The mean temperature for the UK in January was 3°C which is 0.9°C less than the LTA (long term average) 1990-2020. Actually I rate it as one if not the coldest spells during that period where southern England is concerned. There have been frosts night after night and temperatures not much above freezing day after day. However this would have been considered fairly typical during the previous LTA 1961-1990.

 Mysteriously the Met Office has said that January was the fifth sunniest on record. Not in Hertfordshire or London; perhaps other parts of the country bagged all the sunshine?? 

 The Stinking Hellebore (Helleborus foetidus) can be considered both a native wildflower and a garden escape.

 For example I saw it recently around the margins of Hill End Chalk Pit in Hertfordshire. This corresponds to its natural habitat: scrubby, unimproved chalk grassland. The area is far enough away from human habitation that it's reasonable to suppose this might be the survival of a wild population.

 Then again it's one of those species that's considered "garden worthy" and has long been propagated for that purpose. It self-seeds readily where it finds the chalky conditions it favours. Gardens are more than likely the source of H. foetidus in the countryside near conurbations. 

 I often spot the bright green flowers alongside railway lines. No doubt the seeds have been carried in the wake of trains and found a suitable habitat in the limestone clinker. This is a wild species that was domesticated then "re-wilded" itself. So the distinction between 'native' and 'naturalised' is moot.

 The one seen above is in the grounds of the music school where Stinking Hellebores pop up all over the place. Probably planted as ornamentals at some point in the garden's history and multiplied of their own accord. Or perhaps they were here already on this chalk hillside when the house was built in 1859? 

 Travelling into London this morning: freezing fog and frosty fields. This is the coldest winter we have had for a long time despite January being declared the warmest on record globally.

 

 Three is the magic number for compost bins. This facilitates a three year rotation. One filling up with new cuttings, clippings etc. One full and in the process of composting. One well rotted with lovely loamy compost.

 As it happens the music school has two, both enormous. One is almost full of composting matter and the other almost empty of actual compost. Never mind, two is better than one or none. And the fungi, bacteria and invertebrates are hard at work...