Wordless Wednesday: Jack’s magic beans

 

A new genre

Have been a bit slack with the blogging lately. Which will probably lead to a veritable outpouring of out-of-season mush in a couple of weeks when I have more free time. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

For now, I’m unhealthily excited about soon having time to finally get garlic planted and ordering more plants which are totally inappropriate for a temporary pot garden. Of course, it’s dark most of the time now, so I think I’ll also be spending a bit of time inside with a nice glass of something and a movie. He-who-lives-with-me is a big film geek, but somehow I never seem to fancy anything in his collection. Which got me thinking about what I might like to watch…

Here’s the start of a wishlist.

• Germinator 3: The Rise of the Greens
• Courgette Carter
• Die Chard
• Wrong Turnip
• Corn of the Dead
• Dead Mango Walking
• Out of Lime
• Pumpkindergarten Cop
• Planet of the Grapes
• The French Bean Connection
• Bean Streets
• The Podfather
• Gourd of the Rings: The Two Bowers
• Strawberry Dogs
• Mouli Rouge
• The men who stare at oats

Any more recommendations?

 

The importance of design and criticism

I’ve noticed some rather impassioned debate on garden design and criticism in the blogosphere recently.*

So I mused on the nature and purpose of it all. But I only had a spare  minute or so, and spent most of that thinking about how much I like mud and worms. That only left a few seconds to acknowledge that I very much admire beautifully designed gardens that are in tune with their landscape and their history – and those who strive to create them  (while trying not to think ‘yes it’s art, but can I eat it?’). Dear reader, I feared I would not be able to offer any resolution.

But I may have found the answer. I hope the link below offers something to unite everyone: a creation that involves a variety of flowers and edibles, a clever mix of hard and soft landscaping and a good dose of dung. Vitally, it is one which recognises that ‘visual effect is of crucial importance’ and where  ‘competition is intense’:

Actually it seems it may all come down to showing off and getting some.

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* For raging debate try here, here and here. I don’t really want any raging debate. If you’re feeling like that, why not watch the rest of the BBC programme Life, which this clip is from, as an anecdote.  There’s Grebe courtship to bring a tear to your eye, while penguins falling over made me giggle (then feel a bit guilty).

 

Wordless Wednesday: gallimaufry

 

Wordless Wednesday: hoverfly

 

Top of the flops: 1. Bonsai Strawbini

Here’s the first of a series of posts celebrating failure, calamity, neglect and the perversity of nature. Don’t try this at home.

Number one is my bonsai strawbini. Now, I know that two-for-the-price of-one offers are normally too good to be true, and strawberry spinach definitely sounded like it was promising more than it could deliver. Fruits AND spinachy leaves, on a self-seeding plant, that’s quite relaxed about the weather? In your dreams. (though perhaps I’ve invented even stranger plants in the small hours after a late cheese-laced dinner…)

But not in your dreams. In real life. Mr H has some fine specimens on his fine blog. He posted his pictures quite soon after I’d sown my seeds and I must confess to having done a little jig of excitement. Bring on the crazy plant!

Not reaching for the sky

To cut short what easily could  turn into quite a long ramble, my seeds came up just fine, and sprouted lots of healthy looking leaves. Lots of leaves.

One tiny issue (literally): none have grown above an inch tall. Lots of leaves – lots of very small leaves. Each plant has stayed the same size for more than two months just growing its tiny leaves. I may make a tiny spinach stir fry for some woodlice.

 

Sitting target

Parakeet (the West London variety)

Take aim. Fire?

Government advisory body Natural England has just re-classified the ring-necked parakeet, so it can now be killed with a general licence.

Parakeets are relatively recent residents of London, which began significantly increasing in numbers about 40 years ago. Theyoriginally escaped from aviaries or the film set of the African Queen, or were released by sailors, depending what you’d like to believe. They’ve been here longer than me anyway.

They’ve always divided opinion. There is debate about whether they harm other wildlife, such as woodpeckers (stealing their holes), and farmers have been complaining they damage fruit harvests. I think the most vociferous criticism comes from those who don’t appreciate a green screeching alarm call.

Our locals are certainly chatty but they also spend quiet moments in the tree behind us whispering sweet nothings to each other, or mooching about the tree, using their beaks alongside their claws to trace slow somersaults up and down the branches.   I also love seeing a flash of emerald brightening a grey sky, so I’ll only be shooting them with my camera and will be sad if someone else gets their gun out.

Natural England’s decision has been opposed by other groups such as the London Wildlife Trust, who say there is no evidence that the parakeets harm other species. Instead they see it as reflecting misguided attitudes towards ‘non-native’ species.

I feel ambivalent about the rights and wrongs of these controls in general.

"If men had wings and bore black feathers, few of them would be clever enough to be crows"

Crows and magpies can also be shot under a general licence. Magpies are part of the list in an effort to protect declining songbird populations (in contrast, magpie numbers have been increasing). In the same way that parakeets are loathed by some, whether because of screeching or their ‘immigrant’ status, crows and magpies are also extraordinarily unpopular, with a starring role as the villains through centuries of folklore and superstition. But for me, the folklore just adds to the fascination of this family – alongside their startling intelligence, and quirky traits. (For those who still loathe them, I strongly recommend reading ‘Mind of the Raven’ by Bernd Heinrich, a man who has spent many years studying and living alongside ravens. Heinrich has some wonderful insights into their social behaviour – and the close relationships between birds and man that he documents makes it hard not to ascribe human characteristics to these amazing creatures. Also ‘In the company of Crows and Ravens’, by Marzluff and Angell).

I also have questions about the inclusion of these birds on the list – or at least about how they came to be there. Yes, magpies prey on smaller songbirds – that’s what they do and what they always have done. And yes, there is research that shows their presence in an area has an impact on songbird populations.

But what’s the line between the balance nature finds for itself and our interventions?  Population control may be necessary sometimes, but let’s not lose sight of how we got to where we are. Making it easier to shoot magpies or parakeets is a drop in the ocean against the large-scale devastation of songbird habitats caused by man’s spread, and modern farming methods. (Interestingly, I read somewhere that the increase in magpie populations could be explained not so much by the decrease in game-keepers as by the increase in the car – more road-kill equals more magpie food. Either way, it’s us that shifted the balance).

Anyway, I started this post intending to just stick up a picture of a parakeet and say ‘Oh look, parakeets are in the news’. But now that I’ve gone on a bit of a tangent, I’d love to know what other gardeners think. After all, most of us garden because of some love of the natural world and get satisfaction out of living in harmony with it. But we go beyond  participation to intervention – deciding what to grow, what to weed, what pests to tolerate. And we take delight in introducing non-native species and encouraging them to thrive. Where do you draw the line?

Disclaimer:  Guess I’m not counting those for whom gardening is just an immaculately manicured lawn and a demonstration of their dominance over the mess of the natural world…

 

Wordless Wednesday, still on eight legs

 

Spider Watching

I began this post near the start of spider-season, then WordPress got arachnophobic and deleted it all. But two weeks later our eight-legged friends are still out in force – and are starting new families too.

The garden spider’s one of the most visible bugs in British gardens at this time of year – certainly every harvest in my garden involves the inadvertant collection of a fine head-dress of webs.

But while they’re common – and it’s apparently a bumper year – they’re definitely worth a look.

Arinaeus diadematus create the standard fairytale webs – the same that collect drops of dew early in the morning and make hedgerows look like the window displays in Hatton Garden.

Their bodies range from muted greys to glowing ambers, but all have a line of white spots stamped down the middle.

Two weeks ago I watched them sit motionless in the centre of their traps – until something caught and writhed – then they’d dart into action.

The spider on the right hoisted its little package up on a thread and turned it round and round until totally wrapped in silver.

Prey is anything up to the size of bees and butterflies. Once wrapped they’re injected with digestive enzymes and sucked dry until only husks remain.

The table's laid, and dinner is ready

Sudden movements can make the spiders retreat out of their webs. I'd read that when alarmed they'll sometimes stridulate - rub their legs together like crickets do - to alarm predators, but I couldn't persuade my spiders to perform

The smaller males lurk at the edge of the dance-floor, then literally risk life and limb to try their luck – strumming the web as they advance towards the centre and shouting “Seriously, would I make all this noise if I were food?”

All the swollen mothers now sat astride their traps are evidence that some made it.

Spider on fennel

Full to bursting

The females are now starting to build eggs sacs which they’ll guard, unfed, until their deaths. All will be quiet until next spring when the miniature spiderlings (and I rejoice so much that this is the actual word) will emerge and build themselves tiny silken parachutes that will carry them far and wide.

 

Jewels in the garden

So you thought you had to go oyster diving to find pearls?

The iridescent lustre of home-grown organic pearls

Before you rush to place your order, there’s one tiny difference you may like to consider: While your common or ocean pearl is formed inside a mollusc, in the common or garden variety the mollusc forms inside the pearl.

Hatching...