BEING PROVED WRONG (and right) IN AN EXPENSIVE WAY

Red leaved plant on the tracks at the end of a platform at
London Waterloo Station

It's not often I have to get past an armed policeman and be challenged by a soldier for acting suspiciously in order to photograph a plant. Or rather - it's happened only once and that was on Thursday last week.

You may have noticed I've been a bit missing recently. And over the years you will almost inevitably have noticed there are certain things which pre-occupy me which don't often bother other people. And I encourage you to join in with some of them: with following the life of a tree for a year; standing still to see what one can see without moving; and looking for wild plants in towns.

I'm an enthusiast - and I've developed theories. For instance, as you, know - that wild plants are everywhere, even in the most unlikely places.

So this week, for my latest challenge, I set out to prove it in central London. I was absolutely convinced that while visitors are busy looking at things like the Lions in Trafalgar Square they miss plants growing by their feet.

You  might not think this matters. Maybe it doesn't. You're not going to come all the way from America or Spain to see a weed which you can see in a drain any old day at home. But in a way it does matter. It matters a lot because to miss these little scraps of determined life is like missing Narnia because it's at the back of a cupboard.

Ornithologists might say the same about birds (I don't know). An entomologist might say the same about insects. A micro-biologist might have a field day!

But my 'thing' by chance, pure chance, has turned out to be plants.

Looking up at Buddleia from below a railway bridge at
London Waterloo Station

I'm not even that interested in plants. (I'm definitely not interested in birds.) But we humans can't cope with the everythingness of everything and plants were the specific which sort of crept up on me. My grandmother used to take knitting with her everywhere. She was a diffident, shy person and knitting became her important and portable familiar. She churned out more twin-sets than she'd ever need or could be worn by her extended family. (You remember twin-sets? Short-sleeved jumpers in three or four ply wool (very thin) worn with matching cardigans.) I don't suppose she thought of her knitting in this way - but it meant she could sit silently without people ever thinking she was odd or unfriendly. And she could talk if she wanted because she knew the pattern by heart. 

Immediately outside Waterloo Station there's a road, partly covered,
where taxis draw up to collect people arriving in London by train.
On the other side is a long, long  row of rentable bicycles - an idea
introduced round the busy parts of London by the Mayor,
Boris Johnson.

Some interests make us more open to the world than others. I'd feel perfectly comfortable talking with a stranger who is knitting on a train but I'd never dream of approaching a birder searching the distance with binoculars and ask what they are looking for. Seeking out urban wild plants places me somewhere between the two. I can focus on sturdy and inspiring signs of life in unlikely places while being open to strangers who stop to ask what I'm looking at. I would never have met them otherwise. They often go away disappointed. People are always hoping for the exotic. But I don't think they think I'm mad. (Though perhaps a little boring!)

So . . . I went all the way to London to prove my theory - that wild plants grow everywhere.

London is three hours away on the train. Three hours there. Three hours back. On a freakily hot day. And trains are expensive.

All that way to find plants in Trafalgar Square - and there were none.

The very centre of Tourist London has gone mad on cleanliness. Ken Livingstone chucked the pigeons out of Trafalgar Square when he was Mayor - and now the lions shine and people sit happily on the steps and children chase each other round this big, safe area. It seemed sad at the time. Pigeons were part of the place. You could buy seeds to feed them with and they would come to sit on your arms and shoulders to eat. But they didn't 'arf make a mess! And instead of drifting away because they can no longer feed the birds - the square has filled up with holiday makers, and picnickers, and street performers and on the say I went there was a demonstration opposing the privatisation of visitor services at the National Gallery and the re-instatement of a union representative who's been sacked over the issue.

Daisies between Waterloo Station and the London Eye.
The curved building beyond the bridges is the London IMAX.

I don't know whether there were plants in Trafalgar Square when pigeons were there but neither are there now. Eventually I found a patch of short grass about an inch across at the edge of a drain in a kerb. That was all.

I looked up at the buildings around it that used to be dark with soot but which now sparkle in the sunlight, and I looked beside the benches. No plants. No litter. NO LITTER! How do they do it? They'd even emptied the water from the fountain and were cleaning that out too. Such exemplary house-keeping. And yes, the result is fantastic.

The result is fantastic but my theory totally demolished.

I was despondent.

But briefly.

You can't keep a good fanatic down.

Especially if that fanatic is me.

Up and down the side streets; getting hotter and hotter; thinking of that train fare; even the very expensive cup of coffee I'd bought for the sake of a sit-down and a break from the heat.

Back to Whitehall where government offices are centred.

Another of Ken Livingstone's legacies is to have reduced the volume of traffic in London. Of course there were buses and cars but the noise wasn't overwhelming. Thinking back on it, it was silent.

It wasn't. You don't get silent buses, even in London. It was the silence of concentration. And then of admiration.

A solitary plant grows on a wall against the Cabinet Office in Whitehall.
Above the railings at the end of the picture you can see the street name - Downing Street.
At the top left you can see the union flag (union jack?) flying on the top of parliament.
Seriously, how can you not but admire this plant?

When you see Downing Street (official residence and work-place of the Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer) on the news you tend to see the door of Number 10. But Downing Street in itself isn't spectacular. It's a narrow cut between the huge, stone, sombre and impressive buildings of The Cabinet Office and The Foreign and Commonwealth Office. (Defence is down another street over the road.) And here, here at last, I found nature gone wild. There was a pile of leaves caught behind the Downing Street barrier and, wonder of wonders, a solitary plant on the wall of the Cabinet Office and another in the basement of the Foreign and Commonwealth one.

But how? How are they there when all else is swept away?

And do you know the Horse Guards in Whitehall? They wear bright red jackets and plumed helmets and sit silently on still horses under the shelter of sloped roofed boxes either side of a gate to a small yard and an arch under a building that opens out into Horse Guards Parade.

That evening the army would be marching up and down and being spectacular on this vast parade ground as they Beat the Retreat. (An odd celebration wouldn't you say?) And in two days time the Queen would be arriving along with hundreds of brightly clad soldiers and masses of horses would be Trooping the Colour - in part to celebrate her birthday even though it isn't her birthday. (Another odd tradition. We British - or maybe it's we English - revel in being odd.)

This is one of the two plants growing along the wall between
the Horse Guards on their Horses in Whitehall and Horse Guard's Parade Ground.

Well, in between the Horse Guards and the arch into this vast parade ground, were two plants against the wall. Again, how do they hang on there when everything else has been swept away? Especially when they both were about a foot tall.

But between the mounted Horse Guards and the entrance was a cluster of police with semi-automatic machine guns (carbines) clutched across their chests. And although they were letting everyone pass there was an extra policeman (with gun) between me and these two plants. So I asked if I could go behind him to take their portraits. 

I have strong legs. The rest of me is pretty feeble but my legs are strong. Blame it on the plants. I can crouch easily and steadily. I can even hop backwards in a crouched position. And I have no inhibitions about crawling up and down when there's a camera in front of my eyes. Imagine it. Soldiers on horses. Police with guns. A crowd of tourists admiring this famous London scene - and me crawling and crouching and hopping up and down all on my own along this guarded wall.

You know the kind of farce where one of the characters is crawling along the ground; say, looking for a dropped ring; when they come unexpectedly against the legs of authority? In my case it was a soldier in the kind of camouflage which might have worked in woodland if he stood still but which made him stand out disconcertingly clearly in a Whitehall Courtyard.

"What's she doing?" he asked the armed policeman.

"Photographing the wild flowers," he said in a voice which showed he thought this was a perfectly ordinary and sensible thing to do. Wonderful man!

I stood up.

"I came because you seemed to be acting suspiciously," said the soldier. (Possibly because he'd also noticed me over the road sticking my camera in and out between the railings beside the Ministry of Defence because there was a row of thistles there.)

"I looked for plants in Trafalgar Square," I explained. "But there were none, so I came here."

"It's because of the pigeons," he said.

I'd taken several pictures so I left. But without thanking the policeman for the way he'd accepted my request without hesitation. It's been preying on my mind since. (Police in this country are not always peaceful and polite.)

I doubt if he's reading this - but if it's you and you are - Thank you!

There's a post-script. I don't know who looks after the different parts of tourist London but the closer you get to Waterloo Station the street cleaning regime gets increasingly relaxed.

Here's a Pineapple May Weed mixed up in hairs and cigarette ends

 between Waterloo and the London Eye.

Wild London may find it hard to get a look in; but it does.

All photographs in this post were taken on June 11th 2015.

If you'd like to join me in admiring urban wild plants, there'll be a

Link Box for Street Plant Posts from 21st - 25th June.

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THE FIRST OF JOLLY OLD JUNE

We're waiting for a storm.

The weatherman this morning told those going to work in sunshine they'd be returning in wind and rain. We're anticipating winds of fifty-one-miles-an-hour. That may not seem very fast for readers in less temperate climes; but for us round here it's strong. (Especially if you are by waves or under a tree which could fall over.)

I've been rumbling around in a bad mood all day. I blame it on the weather. There's something about anticipating a storm that puts one on edge.

And I've been rumbling in and out of the house; going to look every now and then to see what's happening and thinking 'I'm sure June isn't always like this'.

And it isn't. I began Loose and Leafy in 2008 so I've lots of recorded Junes to check on - and nearly all began with pretty flowers and blue skies.

But even if the theoretically first day of summer has nothing summery about it, there are still interesting things to mention.

Flower photography outdoors can be challenging. A day might seem completely draught free but individual plants waggle around as if engaged in their own private hurricane and the pictures come out blurred. But see the photos above. Why did these plants stand perfectly still today when everything else was thrashing?

And the trees have been interesting too.

Here's an ash tree. It's mid-morning; the wind is on the rise but you'd hardly know it by the way the birds are singing. Not that they are in the tree. They are in bushes near by. Do birds not like ash trees?

The ash is at the foot of a bank so it's in a fairly sheltered spot  . . .but even those birds exposed to the wind by the sea were determined to sing. This robin on a buddleia bush kept going even when it was blown right off its twig.

Back to the ash. By afternoon the wind is reaching even into sheltered places.

It's raining now and the light is skiving off early. Will I go out at mid-night to photograph silhouettes of fifty-mile-an-hour trees? I doubt it! (If I do, I'll let you know.)

P.S. Don't forget the Tree Following Box opens on Sunday 7th.

The photos and videos in this post were all taken  on 1st June 2015.

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TREE FOLLOWING BOX for OCTOBER

Buddleia flowers are dying.
Many of these skeletons will hang from their trees all winter.

September 24th 2014 

This is about the daftess thing ever. How could I not realise the 7th was so close?

I woke up this morning, pottered around making tea and watching the news on the television.  I looked out at the day. Murky at first but brightening. Maybe for the first time in ages I'd take pictures of my tree in sunlight instead of dingy-about-to-rain-ness ready for tomorrow's Tree Following. First though I'd check emails.

In the bottom right of my screen is a little calendar.

It says it's the 7th.

So I'm springing into embarrassed action. Here's the rushed link box - accompanied as yet by no introductory text or pictures or anything except panic.

Will vamp it up later.

Million apologies!

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Links to October Tree Following Posts

Message From a Tree Follower

Linda of Linda's Wildlife Garden has sent a message to let us know she is not posting about her apple trees this month. She is being evicted from her home and is too busy house hunting to blog. With a family of Linda, her husband and her three dogs this is not an easy task. Best wishes Linda. May you find somewhere soon.

More about Tree Following on the Loose and Leafy Tree Following Page

BODY PARTS

This is a Red Admiral butterfly (Vanessa atalanta) on a buddleia flower. It's a familiar sight in late summer - especially along parts of the South Coast of England where Red Admirals gather before migrating to Africa in advance of the winter. It seems an impossible task for such fragile beings. But there you are, many facts seem impossible but are true. I'm getting into a tangle!

I've never counted Red Admirals on a Buddleia. For one thing, I hadn't thought of it till just now - and now is too late, mostly they are gone. For another they don't stay still. They aren't fluttering around all over the place, they sit a while, then move to another flower; it's a slow but shifting scene.

We zoom in closer

Red Admirals are dramatic. Red and black showing clearly on the bushes. When I remember them I nearly always think they are bigger than they really are (wing tip to wing tip) and photographing them is a bit awkward. They move. Buddleias aren't tall trees but one can rarely get close to a butterfly sitting on one. The most important thing, I've found, is not to let a shadow fall across them. They find this more alarming than being looked at close to - but close to is difficult when there's a ditch in the way.

So . . . it's easy to be aware of only three things; that are lots of them, that they are brightly coloured and they like buddleia. Which is why I decided to look at them in detail. And for the reasons listed the detail won't be high quality (especially if you're viewing on a large screem). I like my camera but it's stretching it a bit to do well when one zooms in and crops. Never mind. You'll get the gist. I think you'll be impressed - not by the pictures themselves but what they point to. A butterfly is more than red and black with bold bits of white.

Sideways look at a wing.

The edge of a back wing.

A closed wing.

Antennae.

Proboscis. A Red Admiral drinking nectar.

It's why they're here.

It's looking at you!

Site Recommendation.

Learn About Butterflies: The Complete Guide to the World of Butterflies and Moths.

And in particular because it's relevant to this post, the section on Butterfly Anatomy.

(Bother. I shouldn't have told you about this site. You'll be so busy looking at it you'll never have time to visit Loose and Leafy ever again. Ah well.)

And REMEMBER  - there will be a link box for posts about urban wild plants this coming Sunday (September 21st 2014).

For more information, there's a 'Street Plant Bloggers' page. If you are not participating this time but intend to - maybe in April - let me know in the comments or email me at looseandleafy@googlemail.com and I'll add you to the list as an occasional street plant blogger.

You might also like to see a previous post on Red Admirals in early autumn. 'Ivy and the Butterflies' was posted on October 14th 2014. (I think the pictures are better there.)

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STREET PLANTS

Mexican Fleabane (Erigeron karvinskianus) beside downpipe in garage forecourt.

June 12th 2014

Before the post proper - a big thanks to everyone who took part in the June Tree Following update - whether by writing about their own trees or by reading the posts of others. The characters of the trees (and to some extent of those following their progress) is emerging as the year passes - and it's fascinating. Some trees have found their identities or had them revised; it's easier to work out what they are once leaves have opened. Maybe by starting with bare branches we will all find it easier to identify trees in winter? Some trees have run into trouble. Some have burst out of iffy patches. Over the summer months we will need to become even more efficient as detectives - what is happening when nothing seems to be happening between now and autumn? I anticipate our July and August posts will be amongst the most creative and revelatory.

To see the branches of 'my' tree, I have to crane my head back - it's so very tall. So this week I thought I'd look down. The hedgerows seem high at present - with fennel being feathery and the umbeliferous flowers seeming like inside out umbrellas (except prettier). It's all a big green blur, for all the little flowers growing in the big plants' shade.

Spear Thistle (Cirsium vulgare)
June 15th 2014

So I looked to the streets - or, more particularly, to the car-parks, where plants are more likely to grow separately. Here, they are more distinct. And astonishing. And pretty.

And not just pretty (like the Erigeron (Mexican Fleabane)) above. Resilient and surprising like this Spear Thistle (Cirsium vulgare) behind the bins in a car-park recycling area.

Poppy by building site. See the buddleia to its left? Opportunists both!
June 15th 2014

Where there's a new building, there's often more new building in progress nearby. It's how towns spread! On the edge of the car-park belonging to a three-year-old supermarket, something else is being built. I don't know what. The ground is cleared. Machines are there. And pipes and chain link fences all around. Where flowers grow.

Faded beauty!
There were newly opened poppies too, bright red and with unblemished petals. But in this flower we see the seed pod forming. It's like watching a caterpillar turn into a chrysalis - the old and new entangled. But it's not just that..

Aren't the curls and dents, and wrinkles just as beautiful as the flat blandness of a young flower. (Say yes!) I'd be hard put to it to tell one new poppy from another. But once they begin to die - that's where their individual character creeps in. Or leaps in, in the case of a poppy, because the petal stage doesn't last long! 

For more Loose and Leafy posts about plants about town - click HERE.

For more about Tree Following - click HERE.

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COHABITING WITH TREES - TREE FOLLOWING - CHOOSING THE TREE

The leaves of this particular hawthorn tree open earlier than any other hawthorn nearby.
The white string-like thing is the remains of  last year's bindweed.

This photo was taken on 3rd February 2014.

A problem with choosing trees at this time of year is that, come high summer, some will be knee deep in undergrowth, shaded beneath bigger trees and covered in plants which use them as climbing frames. This, in itself is interesting. When following a tree, you as much find out what happens to it as what it, itself does.

I've always found this interesting. As the year goes by, my focus shifts from tree to plants growing by it. Then in autumn it reverts to the tree itself and the changes it undergoes - if it's deciduous its leaves will change colour and fall. If it's not - they won't! - though its seeds may. May!

In previous years of tree following, an initial flurry of posts can be followed by a gradual drifting away. Spring gets better cover even than summer, let alone winter. What happens? So it's good to think this out in advance. We can decide, now, if we wish, to see any tree as part of its environment; decide to appreciate the undergrowth which obscures it as much as the fruits which fall from it. After all, if trees were animals, we wouldn't think twice about examining their habitat. Or we can make sure to choose trees which will keep their trunks clear for most of the year.

Part of the fun can be in choosing randomly and finding out what will happen. Keeping an open mind. But a little detective work can offer good hints about what will happen in the year ahead. We can allow this to influence our choice if we want it to.

11th February 2014

A broken branch of a blackberry bramble cuts across this view of blackthorn.

Blackberry brambles don't go away in the winter. Their thorny branches stay put - as do many of their leaves. Brambles don't recede. They advance. They are vigorous. They are prickly. If you see your tree as a princess and you as a prince on the other side of thorns - ignore the presence of brambles.

Convolvulus (Bindweed) August 28th 2012

This is what convolvulus (bindweed) looks like when in flower.

This was growing on the fence of a school sports' field.

The problem with convolvulus is not just its vigour but it produces so many large leaves

they cover any sight of their host beneath - whether chain link or bramble or tree.

Some plants grow as well in the wild parts of town as they do in hedgerows.

Convolvulus is one of my favourite wild plants. If you are not familiar with it - think of a vigorous, very very vigorous, overwhelmingly vigorous Morning Glory in white. It's not called Bindweed for nothing. Its stems wind round and round everything they touch - grass, trees, even themselves. They are like rope. The flowers are fantastic - huge, huge (huge for a climate like ours in England) trumpets. Everything under convolvulus disappears. If your tree is under a pile of it you may find your centre of interest switches to which direction it twines in. Watch for its white strings still hanging from trees and bundled in undergrowth and decide accordingly. Where it was last year - it will return. (See the picture of the hawthorn tree at the top of the post.)

11th February 2014

If I follow this tree, I won't be able to get close to its trunk because of a steep bank and undergrowth.
But there is a wild rose nearby. I could include that in my study.

Then there are the insects. I've been looking at buddleia bushes and trees, wondering whether to choose one of these for 2014.

Their bark is fantastic - contorted and flaky. Their leaves come early. Their flowers stay late; and remain like dark, stiff fossils over winter. I don't specially like buddleia flowers - but butterflies do. What's more, butterflies seem to distinguish between one buddleia tree and another. Some years there seem to be hundreds of painted ladies on one while further along another is largely ignored. I don't know why. Maybe I should choose two and compare? Or I might chose a tree whose trunk is hard to get to close for the sake of seeing the insects I know will come and haunt branches overhanging the verge. Or I might chose a particular buddleia because the plants around it will be interesting. This one will have wild roses nearby. I could include them in my tree following.

(For more about Tree Following and how to join in - go to Loose and Leafy's Tree Following Page.)

* * *

Beth at Plantpostings has introduced her tree - a Shagbark Hickory.

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The next linky box for tree following posts will be on March 7th. After that, there will be a linky box on the 7th of every month. Each box will stay open for a week. That way, we will be able to compare the progress of 'our' trees through the year. If you too would like to follow a tree and your name is not yet on the list (see the Tree Following Page) - let me know either by leaving a comment or emailing me at looseandleafy@googlemail.com .

LEAVES, SEEDS AND FLOWERS

Just as human seeds contain within them the imprint and hope of a being yet to form, the seeds of seasons are mirrored and grown in every month of the year. Spring holds the beginning of autumn and autumn is torn between memories of summer past and spring to come. It's a mixture of natural cycle and muddle.

I'd say a blackberry flower is muddled when it turns up just as the cold is kicking in.

That chicory flowers are like enthusiastic teenagers, determined to enjoy the party right to the very last minute.

That buddleia bushes and trees show a wonderful confidence in producing new starts of leaves just as their flowers are turning from lilac and purple to dingy dark brown.

That the seeds of wild clematis - Old Man's Beard - flamboyantly flaunt beauty in the face of their own aging and knowingly turn their faces from the inevitable. Their glorious champagne fizz and froth will soon sink into grey, Miss Havishamesk, dusty decrepitude. Fresh snow is lovely when it falls but when it has been trampled and fouled it's . . . well it's not as nice as when it was new. Ditto Old Man's Beard.

THE SOGGINESS OF AUTUMN

This patch of Willow Herb is always striking
Click HERE for what it looked like in September 2011
(You'll need to scroll down.)

My camera has been away to be mended. The sun shone while it was away. As soon as it's come back, the light goes and the rain pours down as if heaven is emptying its bath water.

These blackberry leaves are pretty tatty and may fall.
But they may not.
For leaves from 2011 in March 2012
Click HERE.

Then there was a moment, not a long moment, but a moment long enough to dash out and dash back before it began to drizzle; a slow, steady shower from the gods. If it were spring, it would be welcome. Sliding through the mud, I wished my camera had come back yesterday. Trying to focus on sodden seeds, sodden everything, it seemed as if nature itself had gone out of focus, I thought 'no post here!'.

From the sky, you might think this was taken early in the day or in the evening.
No. Twenty past ten in the morning.

(It's very annoying.
I know I've taken a picture of this view before but can't find it.
When I do - I'll give the link.)

But there it is. Autumn.

I nearly said it's now 'winter' because these outlines will stay the same right through to spring - petrified reminders of last summer. But the air is warm. It's still autumn.

Now my camera's back, it can snow if it likes for all's right with my world - even if it is raining.

And the view we are following?

Pretty murky too.

For what this looked like on September 21st 2012
scroll down the post for the beginning of October.
Not a lot has changed so I've drawn back to give a wider view.

That's autumn for you!

Tree Following
Donna at Garden's Eye View
has a Tree Following Post
'Surrender'

If you have a recent tree following post
let me know
and I'll add a link here.

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LET ME INTRODUCE YOU TO MY GARDEN

Let me introduce you to my garden. It’s easy care and forever surprising. Indeed, it needs no care at all. It decides for itself what's in it and I never lift a finger to help. I never water. I never pull out weeds - for there are no weeds to pull.

But don’t think it is perfection. By no means. The air is often dreadful. There few places in it I would want to sit. Other people sometimes interfere with the plants; one minute they are there, then suddenly, they are gone. When this happens, it can be disappointing. Worse than that, I can feel a little heart tug. But there’s always a good supply of new ones. Part of the fun is to seek them out and choose them; to note them, peer at and appreciate them. And I always, always, have a little glow of satisfaction when I visit my garden - for it is secret. Nobody visits but me. Hardly anyone even knows it exists. Until today, that is, for I’m telling you now! But there will still be an element of mystery because it covers such a large area it’s difficult to discern and its borders are fluid.  I doubt if anyone who reads this blog would be able to find a single plant in it.

So - let me introduce you to my garden, my garden of the streets - and a little of what it’s like in March

Here are a couple of lawns.

March 29th 2012

I have no idea how many people pass this little lawn during the course of the day but it's set in the side of steps up to a commercial building.

February 29th 2012
(I know that's not March -
but it's only one day out. It didn't change much overnight!)

And here is another. Durable. Hard wearing. No mowing needed. Tolerates drought, flood, full sunshine and shade.

It’s a good time for flowers. There have been some in the winter months; I have sought them out and I’ll return to them. But they've grown old and dusty and I expect you’d like to see new-leafed, freshly opened ones just now.

March 30th 2012
The dandelion at the front of the picture is clear to see - but it's not alone.  There's one with two flowers beyond. Can you see that one? And there are many in the wider fore-court behind me. It belongs to a pub which was closed a few years ago after the river next to it flooded the cellars.  It's deteriorated much since then.

March 30th 2012
Ivy-leafed Toad Flax. In the wall of a large car-park. 

Dandelions really are beginning to assert themselves. Although my garden is a street one (a garden of urban wild plants) if people leave their own gardens untended, I reckon the plants which grow there can be included in mine too. These are 'shared' plants.

March 28th 2012

Like this dandelion.

I have a selection of rockeries. In some, the plants are very small.

March 28th 2012

These ones (above) have to be small or lorries would squash them. They are between the cobbles in the speed bump below. A dustcart had driven over it in both directions a moment before taking this picture.

March 28th 2012

The orange sticks are cigarette buts. That will help with scale.

Given that I have not seen anyone else crawling about on pavements, on the steps to public buildings or in the middles of roads, I suspect looking for these plants and admiring them is a minority interest. And I doubt our streets would be as safe as they are if lots of people took it up. But until I started to look out for urban wild plants, I hadn't realised how many there are to miss!

March 29th 2012

There are succulents too. These little ones will grow into a clump over the crack at the side of the step.

March 28th 2012

Bushes cut down last year are reasserting themselves.

This buddleia will grow substantially throughout the summer and will probably flower.

March 30th 2012

This is the bud to watch. Below is the place where it is.

Buds on the trees are beginning to bulk and green.

March 30th 2012

So, there you have it - a garden with lawns and flowering borders; rockeries, bushes and trees. All are free and free living. People walk through this garden every day. Maybe they notice some of its elements. Maybe they don't. Maybe they chose special plants themselves, perhaps without even realising it. I think this is most likely to happen with trees. Even those with only a subliminal awareness of the urban wild will mark the difference between winter and summer, no-leaves then, suddenly, leaves - a time of sweaty offices and ice-creams at weekends.

Do you have an urban garden?

__________
                                                                  

I'm Following a Tree

Are You?

A Growing List!

arignagardener

Down by the sea

Flighty's plot

Gardening Ways

Gardens Eye View

Hyde Daily Photo Volume 2

josephinesgarden

Lichfield Lore

Moongazy Girl

On The Edge Gardening

Patiopatch

small matters

solsticedreamer

the blackberry garden

The Wilder Garden

Tree Care Tips

welsh hills again

Willow's Woolly World

Windy Willow

I'm Following a Tree

Are You? 

___

If you have posted recently

about the life of a particular tree

 you are 'following',

let me know 

and I'll put a link here.
* * *
On the Edge Gardening
Tree Watch
Lichfield Lore
Tree Routes

                      

                    

                                    

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