Stranger in a Strange Land – Part 2

Continuing the memories from the summer – with this second catch up from the 14 September 2013.

At the beginning of the previous blog I said I had been studying a couple of strange plants at the allotment, the second of these plants was hiding amongst the Celeriac. By the time I found this plant at the end of July it was about a foot tall and never really grew much taller than this. As with the Apple of Peru this plant had slightly lobed, diamond shaped leaves, but with out any purple colouring, above which were several cream trumpet shaped blooms. By the time I found this plant the central flower had already gone and a seed was forming at the top of the stem, a distinctively prickly seed that looked like it was going to form a bur of some sort. As for the identification – not so difficult this time as I’ve seen flowers like this before on greenhouse plants called Angel Trumpets, so I soon tied this plant down to Thorn Apple.

Thorn Apple – 17 August 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

I suspect that this is another plant that I shouldn’t have left in the allotment, especially as it was a poisonous plant amongst the edible crop of Celeriacs, but the delicate cream trumpets were very pretty and the bur covered seed pod in the centre of the plant was fascinating. This seed pod over the weeks from summer into autumn grew in size and by September had reached a size, that made the plant look like a matchstick man with the leaves forming the arms and the main stalk the legs, with the bur as the head. This plant also fascinated a number of the other allotment holders who also agreed with me that it looked like a matchstick man.

Ripening Seed Head – 13 September 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

As the summer ends this seed pod has continued to grow and finally begun to brown and ripen. I know that before the plant had got to the stage of having ripe seeds, I should really have removed it and deposited it on the compost heap, especially as the RHS web site says that the seeds can live for a number of years in the soil. All I can say was that I was totally fascinated by its development, it was almost as if it was animal rather than plant. It felt like I was totally hypnotised! Well thank heaven its not a Trifid and I’ve a trusty hoe that will keep it’s progeny under control.

Stranger in a Strange Land – Part 1

More memories from the summer – this catch up is from the 14 September 2013.

Over the course of August and into September I have been observing the development of several unusual weeds on my allotment, which first came to my attention back at the end of July when I returned from my travels.

The first of these plants were growing amongst the Tomato plants, at the time it was a leafy plant, with a deeply grooved stem which was stained a deep, rich, purple and that supported the slightly lobed, diamond shaped leaves. Above this was an inflorescence, formed from a number of individual bell shaped flowers; that were open when I first saw the plant at the beginning of the afternoon, but by late afternoon had shut tight. When open the flowers were a delicate lavender blue bell, with a white interior and distinctive blue markings that leaked out from the very centre, like ink on blotting paper. So with this picture in my mind, it was off to search for an identity that wasn’t very hard to come across as the plant really is very distinctive – as for the identification, it is the Apple of Peru also known as the Shoofly, and as the name suggests is native to Peru.

An Apple of Peru Flower – 18 August 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

So how does this stranger arrive here in my southern Scotland allotment? According to the information available it is sometimes a contaminant of compost and also forms parts of many bird seed food mixes from which it regularly escapes. Both of these situations could be the source of my plant, for the Tomatoes were brought in as seedlings. They then lived on the outside windowsill at home to harden off, where the local bird population are not unknown to hide seeds from the feeders in. More worryingly according to sources this plant is quite capable of growing to five or six feet in height, maybe not such a good idea amongst the Tomatoes, but at the time I had failed to read this part and the plant amongst the Tomatoes showed no signs of growing more than eighteen inches tall and if anything the Tomatoes where outgrowing the Apple of Peru.

Part of an Inflorescence – 14 September 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Shortly after the first plant was discovered, a second came to light, this time growing amongst the Perilla plants (a set of plants grown from seed this time in brought in compost, and harden off on the windowsill again) and this one once it reached eighteen inches just kept on growing and growing. By the end of the summer it had easily reached four feet and was well on the way to being nearly five feet tall! At this height it was a decidedly a stately and bushy affair, making a most magnificent plant, when covered with its lavender blue flowers, and especially when these flowers were in their full glory, early in the afternoon. Even when the flowers were opening or closing, the calyxes that would eventually develop into the seed pods were amazing structural elements in their own right. They were five sided pointed affairs that were again stained with this rich dark purple colouring.

Ripening Pods – 14 September 2013(Copyright Carol Jones)

As the summer has moved on these plants have grown and developed, and I had grown far too interested in how they would develop to take them out, especially as they weren’t really in the way of other plants. So they are likely to continue to grow and develop until they are killed by a sharp frost, which may mean that they set seed. I therefore wonder when next year comes, whether I shall rue the day that I let these plants stand, as I pull and hoe out their countless progeny!! But only time will tell and may well prove to be my folly of my ways.

The Never Ending Song

More on changing seasons – this catch up is from the 05 September 2013.

As the long days of summer headed into the shorter days of autumn, Blackpool Moss has remained green and bright but now it is separated from the more scruffy surroundings  as a strip of hay has been taken from around the moss, making it look as though the site has been tied up with a neat browning ribbon. Even so the greens of the moss have begun to gain a yellowish tinge and the summer polka dot pattern of colours has now decreased to just the occasional spot, most noticeable of which were the mauve heads of the Devil’s-bit Scabious and the odd white Sneezewort head.

Blackpool Moss – 05 September 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The end of summer and the beginning of autumn is a strange time when the colourful beauties of summer have faded, but the wonders of autumn have yet to bloom, even so there are still sights to be seen. For me this day’s eye catching splendour comes in the form of the ever moving and richly coloured heads of the Common Reed. By September their inflorescences have a shine that is rich and luxurious purple in the day’s sunshine and by now they are also highlighted with the odd patch of white, formed as the seeds within the heads begin to ripen. In the breeze, that on Blackpool Moss blows almost continuously, the tall stalks sway backwards and forwards, as though pulled hither and thither by an invisible force, and this breeze makes the rich purples shimmer and shine, as the light catches the shine first from one angle and then another. On this day though, this continual movement made the heads an almost impossible feature to capture with any sort of satisfaction within a picture, as the movement was making it impossible to focus on all aspects and too much of the picture remained as a fuzzy mess. Still though the sight of this continual movement intrigued and fascinated, as the Reeds continued there strange dance to that never ending, but unheard song.

Creatures From the Moss

The next few blogs cover the catch up period of late summer and early autumn, between my return from North Wales and now in mid-autumn. This one dates from the 08 August.

Walking round the edge of Blackpool Moss, it was wonderful to see the bright new greens of the moss, after the browning, tiredness of the surrounding areas which are slowly being baked in the heat of the summer. Here on the moss, it’s as though the sprinklers have been turned on every day to supply a dose of water; as all the vegetation has a spring newness to its colour, just like the lawns in suburbia. Out of this brightness there sprouted a number of Wild Angelica plants with their white frothy umbels that are tinged very slightly with pink, standing out as sentinels in this sea of green. More statuesque though, was a tussock of Greater Tussock Sedge that poked out of the surrounding vegetation like a weird creature with some form of bottle brush hair style. Well named by a friend, who called them Dr Who monsters!!

Blackpool Moss – 08 August 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Surrounding this island of green, the grassland is browning and drying in preparation to be turned to hay, but amongst this brown there stands out a bright bank of purple, formed from a mass of Knapweed flowers. There were so many flowers that it was as if someone had taken a paint brush, dipped it in a paint pot and added a splash of colour across the grassland. This bank of flowers were also a great temptation to a mass of butterflies, the most I’ve seen this year in one place at anyone time. They were mainly Meadow Browns, flitting here and there, around the mass of flowers producing a mass of movement. Try as I might they did not settle for long enough to photo, all attempts at pictures where nothing more than a blur of movement, made worse by the gentle breeze that would set the heads of the Knapweed off in a swaying pattern all of their own.

Purple Edgings – 08 August 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Mysterious Seas

This is the twelfth blog from my time in North Wales, dating from the 18 July 2013.

Sitting writing this final entry to my summer holiday blogs with autumn now upon on us, with mornings that now have a decided chill to them, and trees showing distinctive signs of yellowing, it is hard to imagine that in mid July it was necessary to head up into the hills to escape the heat of the day, as the sun would beat down with unforgiving relentlessness.

For this final day we took to the hills to the west of Bala to escape the unrelenting heat and found this spot where the views across to Rhinogs were amazing. Stopping close to the top of a ridge and looking out across the valley, the Rhinogs stood silhouetted, broodingly dark against the brightness of the summer blue sky.

The Rhinogs – 18 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

In front of this dark and brooding scene, there seemed to be a sea of green that lapped against the dark wall of the mountains, seeming to swell and writhe in the breeze that blew. This feeling of movement was accentuated by the waving heads of the browning grass inflorescences that moved like large shoals of tiny fish, dashing first one way and then the next. Over this there moved the dark scudding shadows, produced by fluffy white cumulus clouds that were moving rapidly across the scene, like the hunting of large predatory fish lining up their dinner. On this swelling sea of green, a developing woodland seems to float free, with each element moving as an individual, at the will of the current and the wind, like paper boats being tossed head long down a mountain stream.

Closer to, the rich browns of this sea are made up by a multitude of grass heads from the rich metallic heads of Wavy Hair-grass that rippled with every breath of air, mixed with the loosely cigar shaped heads of Yorkshire Fog, which as the seeds were ripening had taken on a delicate brown hue. Out from amongst these various shades of brown there appeared amazing bright purple carpets, formed from the flowering shoots of young Bell Heather, regenerating amongst the grasses.

Carpets of Bell Heather – 18 July 2013 (Copyright Ross Lockley)

All this I thought I was observing harmlessly from a mountain road, within a felled forestry plantation that was beginning to regenerate into new woodland, and into which I wandered to look at various odds and sods. That was until we moved further along and came across a notice that announced for the area we were just leaving, “Keep to the road – Danger – Explosives”. Oh! You don’t see that every day!!

Exploring the Great Welsh Sea Serpent

This is the tenth blog from my time in North Wales, dating from the 17 July 2013.

Standing on top of a large lump of limestone rock on the outskirts of the genteel Victorian seaside town of Llandudno, it was hard to imagine that the old Viking name for for the Great Orme means Sea Serpent, for all you see are the burnt grassy pastures and the masses of tourists thronging the slopes. Away from the honey pot at the top, and down below the first outcrops of rock, where the modern road now runs round this headland, the story was very different. Here, even though the summer had been hot and dry, there was still water dripping out of the flushes and through the rocks. Add to this the effects of differential erosion of the rock, to produce a distinctive patterned of layers formed of green vegetation mixed with layers of white and grey rocks, accompanied by the shape of the headland as seen from out at sea, and the thought that this could be a slavering Sea Serpent might not be so unbelievable.

The Great Orme – 17 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Wandering along at this lower level, the edges are rich with species. Calcium rich flushes deposit areas of tufa as they flow over the rock surfaces, amongst which many lime green rosettes of the Common Butterwort are spattered, just like pustules on a teenagers face. Each of these rosettes are splattered with a good covering of flies, slowly being digested to provide nutrients for these plants that cling to the rock surface. Above which the purple flowers attract more insects for the requirements of reproduction, followed maybe by a bit of supper!!

Drier areas are green and grassy, especially where the soil depth is deeper, accompanied by an array of flowers through which flit a number of small blue butterflies, tempting and teasing by not sitting still. Now normally small rich blue butterflies are most likely to be just Common Blues, but maybe, just maybe, because we are on the Great Orme there might just have been a Silver Studded Blue amongst them. I only say this, because this was the Great Orme, where a distinctive sub-species of the Silver Studded Blue is found, but unfortunately all I could get to see clearly was the bright blue top of the wings, which when they hardly settled at all could easily have be either.

Amongst the drier areas where the soil was thinner and the vegetation generally much shorter and by now, after a number of weeks of hot, dry sunshine, were very much burnt off, there was one more surprise left to be found, in the form of the small prickly plants of the Carline Thistle. I love the Carline Thistle, as their inflorescences always reminds me of miniature Sunflower heads, that seem to point towards the sky and open and close with the weather. In dry conditions the straw-like bracts surrounding, the delicate yellow inner tubular florets open wide to soak up those rays and invite insect visitors to feed.

Carline Thistle – 17 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Surprises Amongst the Bracken

This is the seventh blog from my time in North Wales, dating from the 13 July 2013.

Wandering around the lanes on Anglesey, found us travelling down what seemed to be a normal open country lane that would lead us out onto the Penmon Peninsular. Now in general from a first view this seemed nothing out of the usual, a dense cover of Bracken was broken up by a scattering of Hawthorns. As I said nought out of the usual, but then out above the Bracken there stands this tall stately Teasel. In the Scottish Borders, Teasel is a species which is found on open grassy road verges, and is an unusual sight. Later investigation has discovered that Teasels are not uncommonly associated with rough grasslands and woodland edges, so why not a Bracken edged road verge, that produces many of the conditions of a woodland edge, openness followed by later shade.

Teasel – 13 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Teasels are fascinating plants, tall prickly affairs with opposite leaves that form a cup-like structure against the stem that catches rainwater. Its this basin from which the Roman name for Teasel comes from – lavacrum veneris meaning Venus’ lips or basin. Above is a flower head that from a distance can seem like an oversized cotton-bud, but on closer examination it is made up of many straight spines, much like a pin cushion, across which passes a tide of lilac flowers. These flowers begin by opening in the centre of the inflorescence and seem to spread up and down, like a parting of the waves in the Red Sea.

The Pin Cushion of a Teasel Inflorescence – 13 July 2013 (Copyright Ross Lockley)

Just as I was about to wander on, a flash of bright pink caught my eye, it was a plant scrambling up through the Bracken. On closer examination and consultation with various books, revealed this pink to come from the bright flowers of the Broad-leaved Everlasting Pea. This plant was using the Bracken fronds as a convenient climbing frame. I love the flowers, they were an amazing rich vibrant pink, but also marked with delicate pink veins, such wonderful contrast that stands out against the background lattice of green Bracken fronds, through which this single plant scrambles, pulling itself up towards the light.

Bright Splash of Broad-leaved Everlasting Pea Flowers – 13 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Shifting Sands

This is the sixth blog from my time in North Wales, dating from the 12 July 2013.

Standing on the main road looking down across a disused airfield towards Morfa Dyffryn National Nature Reserve, is enough to take your breath away. Morfa Dyffryn is dominated by an active dune system and even from a distance of over half a mile, the sheer size of the dunes give them a distinctive presence. They are very much alive, shifting with every breath of wind, even if its just a few grains of sand at a time, like a sleeping giant slumbering, waiting for Jack to disturb him.

Morfa Dyffryn – 12 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Down at dune level the sense of size is lost, for the views are all of short distances and there are no massive heights to be seen or distant views to be had, but still the sense of the dune being a living creature comes across, as the sand shifts and moves in even the slightest breeze. This living thing grades backwards from an embryo on the sea front, growing to its greatest height and then subsiding eventually into the surrounding fields.

Within the Dunes at Morfa Dyffryn – 12 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The back edge of the dune system is protected from the outside world by clumps of the viciously prickly Sharp Rush that has formed a protective barrier along the landward side of the dune system where the sand has just about consolidated into land. Sharp Rush is one vicious plant, forming huge dense tussocks of shiny dark green leaves, a metre or more in height, which are each pointed with a deadly sharp spike; sharp enough to pierce the skin. Inside the moving sand is stabilised by clumps of Marram Grass, amongst which spread and creep bright yellow carpets of Common Birds-foot-trefoil that contrast with the clumps of the pale pink flowers of Common Century, forming as it were a pattern on the skin of the sleeping beast.

Dunes Delights

This is the fourth blog from the my holiday in North Wales, dating from the 10 July 2013.

Wandering the dunes behind Harlech, with the sun beating down and the sand rapidly soaking up this heat to re-radiate it back as we pass, it was almost possible to think that we were on the edge of somewhere like the Sahara. It was hot, very hot, but unlike the Sahara where it is mainly sand, here the place is vegetated, with a good covering of Marram Grass, which spreads along way back from the beach, and waves almost continuously in the gentle breeze. The Marram Grass produces a grey green background, against which a mass of colour brings the place alive. This mass of colour is like a canvas, where the artist has taken a number of colours and thrown them higgledy piggledy across the place but some how the picture doesn’t jar or jump out at you, it all seems to wash together into a neat harmonious picture.

Harlech Dunes – 14 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The mass is amazing but some of the details catch the eye, like the patches of bright pink Pyramidal Orchids that grow almost like triangular lolly pops against the grey green background. Or the prickly grey green of the Sea Holly with their distinctive Holly-like leaves and their round balls of florets ripening in the sun, preparing soon to spring open and reveal their deep mauve petals hidden inside. But what catches my eye, are the tall stalks of Evening Primrose, with their pale canary yellow flowers that stand proud like sentinels watch towers amongst the stalks of Marram Grass.

The Sentinels Stand Proud – 10 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Sentinel straight they stand, rugged below and securely anchored in the ever moving sand, but above the delicate flowers of the Evening Primroses burst forth. They appear from sturdy, almost Okra shaped buds, to form delicate, yellow petals, that traditionally first open as the sun drops in the evening and remain for just a few days before they dry and wither away to nothing more than crinkled brown tissue paper. Delight to the eye for just a moment, before soon lost to nothing more than a memory.

Evening Primroses – 10 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

After the Fire

This is the third blog of my holiday and dates from the 09 July 2013.

While wandering the back roads through the foothills of the Rhinogs to escape the heat of the day, every now and again we would glimpse this mass of purple, standing out bright against the various greens of the hillside. Closer examination revealed these areas of purple colouration to be dense collections of Foxgloves. They seemed to be growing out from areas that had recently been cleared of Gorse by burning, for amongst the spikes of flowers there were tall stalks of burnt wood, dark charcoal black, against the the lush green of new growth. These burnt stalks stood straight and stark, testament to the fire that had passed through the area.

Hillside of Foxgloves – 09 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Apart from the presence of these charcoaled stalks, the surroundings now show few signs of devastation that would have been present following the fire. By now the ground is covered with a healthy growth of lush grass topped with the straw coloured seed heads of Sweet Vernal-grass, drying in the warmth of the summer sun. This rich green though, makes the purple bells of the Foxglove stand out all the more, as the colours contrast and catch the eye.

Foxgloves Amongst the Charcoal Remains of Gorse – 09 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

I love the purple bells of the Foxglove, they are large but also delicate. The flowers are just so full of detail, especially with their distinctive pattern of dark spots on the lower surface of the bell, each surrounded by its own distinctive white border. These spots seem to hypnotise and entice you inwards to discover the further wonders inside, which is exactly what they are for if you happen to be a passing Bumble Bee. According to folklore these marks are made by the fairies, and are formed from where they have put their fingers. This together with the shape of the flowers which look a like bells, leads to one of the other common names of this species – that of Fairy Bells.

Foxglove or Fairy Bells – 09 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)