And today we have . . . Elderberry and Hawthorn . . .
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Elderberry Cordial with fizzy, deeply cold water. (I made some - but it went off; so I buy it now.)
Fried Elderberry Flowers. (First dip them in flour. Plain, I think. White. Wholemeal would be horrid.)
Elderberries. (Added (just a few) to a saucepan of blackberries, they deepen the flavour. The colour too. And the resulting juice (when warm) is reminiscent of red wine.)
Elderberry doesn't spring to life as enthusiastically as does Buddleia - but the leaf shoots are there, none the less, by December. (See on the left-underside of the broken branch.)
On the left - 5th December.
Below - 13th January.
Apologies that you'll need to click these pictures to see the leaf buds - but it seemed more important to have the pictures close to each other than to post them large.
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The first tree with its own Blog.
(It had better do something interesting!)
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Choosing Trees for the Hawthorn Log
Hawthorn, round here, mostly pokes up high from behind lower bushes so it's difficult to follow particular branches. There'll be some sticking through here and there but I can't tell what's what for ivy. Nor will I see, until the leaves come, which, if any of them have been flailed. It may be that they are mostly too high or too far back to have suffered much damage.
So the Hawthorn Log (when it gets going) will have to be a bit general for another couple of months.
Which isn't to say there's nothing yet to put in it.
See this? Above the water? See it? Up on the cliff on the right? Hawthorn trees are too big for most gardens and lose their shape in hedges. So, for me, this is a special tree; I can see its shape. It's quite easy to reach too - when the weather is fine. There's a track. But the weather is not fine and the track is all January-mud and slippyness.
And there are these little ones - the uppermost of which will reach into the way of the flails when it gets bigger . . . which will be interesting. Emotion is such a nuisance. When, eventually, this happens I know part of me will do a stupid 'oh poor little tree' dance. And another part of me will say 'rather trim it back when it's little than hack it back when it's big'. And I'll get in a tangle and have to remind myself that I'm supposed to be a starting-from-scratch scientist.
And that, I think, is the hardest part about all this. Plants simply aren't objects of observation. We do get emotional about them - have our emotions triggered by them. Otherwise we wouldn't grow them . . . well, I know I'm not the one growing these . . . but I expect you'll know what I mean.