And winter has barely started...

A 16th century winter poem by that prolific writer, Anon, begins with a plea:


                                                   Shine out, fair sun, with all your heat,
                                                   Show all your thousand-coloured light!


Well, for the last few days the sun has been brilliant, but there has been little warmth to it and recent nights - last night in particular - have been bitterly cold. Up until now garden shrubs such as cotoneasters and berberis have been heavy with fruit but I suspect desperate birds will now begins to strip these, putting on fat for the real winter yet to come. The golden fruits of our Passion Flower, Passiflora caerulea, remain, hanging like apricots against the garage wall.

The fruits of Passiflora caerulea seem almost to glow against the

garage wall. Stefen Hill, Daventry. 5 December, 2016



But a closer look shows that these have been eviscerated by birds. It pleases me to know that our garden is helping to see these creatures through the winter. Caterpillars will be less impressed!

Birds appear to have been tucking in.

On a quite different topic, I was in Daventry this afternoon and photographed these Pixie Cup lichens on a wall near the Leisure Centre. When flowering plants abound these curious organisms are often overlooked but now they come into their own.

A Cladonia species atop a stone wall in Daventry.
5 December, 2016

Being beyond arm's reach I could not obtain a sample (or decent photograph) but it may be the true Pixie Cup, Cladonia pyxidata. This is a very common species in this situation and it looks right, but to be certain I'll need a sample for microscopic examination. Well, someone has to do it.


Is it Cladonia pyxidata? Probably.

 The weather forecasts predict milder conditions over the next few days. Bring it on!

Tombs and trains

A carrot and whip situation faced me today, with brilliant sunshine providing the carrot, but the whip consisting of very low temperatures. Sunshine triumphed however and persuaded me that I get off my bum and go for it, accordingly I set out in my continued aim of exploring darkest Daventry.


I strode forth briskly, passing through the grounds of Holy Cross church. A number of chest tombs are present, one of which was smothered, until recently, with ivy.

The sides of the tomb have now been cleared with the consequence that the structure now wears a strange toupee of dead twigs and branches. I could find no inscriptions on the tomb sides so I assume these remain hidden beneath the vegetation on the chest top.

I pushed on across the A425 towards Southbrook, passing the curiously named 'Daventry and Southbrook Learning Village' (they couldn't spell 'school') and then turned north, avoiding roads and sticking to footpaths. I was able, by facing west across the school sports fields, to look back at Holy Cross Church.

Although the sighting of the church meant that I knew just where I was, the area was completely unknown to me. I made my way towards Norton Road, passing a large, dead elder tree, Sambucus nigra, whose main branches had fused. This is not an unusual occurrence and in some cases is caused by branches rubbing together in the wind until their cambium layers are laid bare and natural grafting takes place. In this instance however the branches had thickened with growth and had simply come into firm contact with each other, resulting in the fusing of the tissues.

I headed west along Norton Road and thus returned to the town centre. This was achieved with ease thanks to an underpass. Daventry has a number of these underpasses, the sides of which are often 'decorated' with graffiti, but this one was a little out of the ordinary. Someone had presumably been invited to create something a bit above average. They couldn't be described as brilliant but they were quite recognisable. Thus on the left is a Johnson-designed 3-cylinder Midland compound loco, introduced in 1924 for moderately heavy passenger workings.

The engine on the right is not quite as clear but appears to be an Ivatt-designed 2-6-0 introduced for the L.M.S in 1946 for light passenger workings. Next, in green, comes a Pacific loco, i.e. one with a 4-6-2 wheel arrangement. The parallel boiler suggests a Britannia engine designed for the nationalised British Railways and would have been used for top-flight passenger workings.

Several other engines had also been painted on the walls of the underpass and it is surely significant that this structure is very close to the site of Daventry's railway station, closed to passengers in September, 1958. Several other locomotives were portrayed and they provided an interesting ten-minute break from walking. Another five minutes and I was back at the town centre. Not a bad walk at all.

 

The London Midget

Chris has recovered from her illness sufficiently to resume work as a volunteer in the Air Ambulance shop so, on a cold and frosty morning, I took her into Daventry town centre, left the car with her and, walking briskly, took a zigzag path home.


Before I had even left the centre of the town I had a wee surprise. On a leaf of a London Plane tree, Platanus x hispanica, I found an unfamiliar but distinctive mine. It had been formed by one of the so-called micro-moths, the London Midget, Phyllonorycter platani.

Plane leaves showing mines of the London Midget.

Daventry, 29 November, 2016

It was first found in Britain in 1989 and was first recorded in Northamptonshire in 2003 by my old friend George Higgs, but it is still largely confined to the south-east of the country. Plane trees are not native to the U.K. (they are found wild southern Europe) so this moth is likely only to be found in urban situations.
By this time it was beyond noon but frost was still lingering in sheltered places.

Bramble leaves still frosted after noon. Daventry, 29 November, 2016

The day was almost without wind but the occasional tug of breeze brought down a shower of leaves. In general though trees had already lost most of their foliage and the bare twigs formed a tracery against the brilliant blue sky.

Over September and October the flowers of Ivy have been an extremely important source of nectar. Quite remarkably a few flowers linger but I saw none receive an insect visitor.

Ivy still in bloom. Daventry, 29 November, 2016

Ivy now has a second stage of importance as the berries ripen. All those I saw today were still green but these will begin to ripen in time to replace diminishing alternative food sources for birds such as thrushes.

The ivy berries have plumped up nicely. Daventry, 29 November, 2016

In two days time the first day of winter arrives - at least meteorologically - and the cold may tighten its grip, but on the grass verge beside our house yarrow, Achillea millefolium, is still flowering.

...and yarrow is still in bloom. Daventry, 29 November, 2016

I have just been reading an account of an early neolithic burial; apparently the archaeologists 'knew it had been a summer burial because yarrow flowers had been strewn around the body'. Hmm...


Comments? Tony White: diaea@yahoo.co.uk

Drayton again

Some months ago - 16 January to be precise - I published a blog in which I spoke warmly of Drayton and expressed a determination to pay this area of Daventry a further visit. Spring passed, as did summer and autumn. Finally today, beneath a cloudless sky and with the temperature at the six degrees mark, I got around to it.


Too late!
An Indian Bean Tree, Catalpa bignonioides, which a few months ago would have borne its panicles of lovely white, purple spotted flowers, now stood leafless and forlorn, with only its cylindrical, pod-like capsules there to remind us of its summer beauty. Incidentally I have yet to find one of these fruits containing ripe seed. The common name refers not to India but to the North American 'Indians', the tree being a native of south-eastern U.S.A. and the 'Latin' name is derived from the word Catawba, the name used by the indigenous people.

The 'pods' of the Indian Bean Tree. Drayton, 28 November, 2016

A few metres away grew another holly look-alike, (see 'Spines and Cyanide', 22 October); this time it was a New Zealand Daisy Bush, Olearia macrodonta. It is sometimes referred to as the New Zealand Holly. In my youth this species was regarded as borderline hardy; now it can be planted safely over most of Britain.

New Zealand Daisy Bush. Drayton, Daventry. 28 November, 2016

A few months ago this would have borne dozens, if not hundreds, of daisy-like flowers. Now only their withered, sun-dried remains hinted at their summer glory.

In fact flowers were almost totally absent. An exception was a magnificent Strawberry Tree, Arbutus unedo, standing in a garden. Not only was it covered in hundreds of its ivory-coloured bell-shaped flowers but dozens of its scarlet fruits were also present. I was tempted to knock the door and ask the owner if I could enter the garden for a photograph but instead resolved to get one for myself.

'Is that a Wild Privet?' I asked myself, glimpsing some glossy black berries. I crossed the road for a closer look and saw that the plant had a twining habit. It was Japanese Honeysuckle, Lonicera japonica and, attractive as they were, I had missed out again, being too late to enjoy its creamy, highly fragrant flowers.

Lonicera japonica tumbles over a fence. Drayton, 28 November, 2016

This is a fast-growing, evergreen climber but can be over-vigorous for many gardens, so plant it with care!

Sunny though it was the temperature remained low and I lengthened my stride, keen to get home, pausing only to photograph a fine Hornbeam, Carpinus betulus. It was the popular 'Fastigiata' form but the shape had been distorted by unsympathetic pruning of the lower branches.

A fastigiate hornbeam. Drayton, Daventry, 28 November, 2016

Ah well, next year then...

Ashby Fields at al (amended)

Chris was off to Northampton today, selling Christmas cards - 'Cards for Good Causes' - leaving me free to continue with my plan of walking myself back to fitness - it has now been a year since my heart operation - and exploring the wild and remote regions of Daventry.
In the town centre I grabbed a bus for Lang Farm but having followed what seemed a tortuous route for a few minutes I decided enough was enough and rang the bell for the next stop. Surprise! Quite by chance I had stepped off outside my daughter's school (by which I mean that she is head teacher, rather than the owner, of that august establishment). It would have been nice to pop in and see her I resisted the temptation as she would be very busy. Instead I began to retrace the bus route back to town.

Pleasant streets lined with poplars and birches helped to disguise the fact that some serious social problems exist in the area. This kind of beauty is, it seems, only skin-deep. I had barely started my walk when I was stopped by a clump of Upright Hedge-parsley, Torilis japonica, at the roadside. Surely not a surprise, I hear you say, as it is very common across Britain. But this relative of the carrot, normally in bloom around July to September, was here covered in flowers with their characteristic pink-tinged flower buds.

Torilis japonica in flower! Ashby Fields, Daventry.

24 November, 2016

A closer look shows the umbels of dainty flowers in more detail. In mid-summer these would probably barely merit a second glance, but in late November! Incidentally Druce* describes this plant as septal, and explains that this term is used for 'plants of hedgebanks and hedgerows'. No online dictionary (Collins, Merriam-Webster, Cambridge, etc) offers this definition. I take it that the word is derived from the Latin saepimentum - a hedge.

I strode on, feeling a little annoyed with myself at having failed to bring a map. All the streets in the area were named after intrepid explorers (Shackleton Drive, Mallory Way, Burton Close, etc) and I was concerned that I could get lost in in Daventry. Wimp! Snowberries, Symphoricarpos albus (formerly S. racemosus) grew at the roadside, bearing a remarkably heavy crop of fruit. Personally I don't think this North American shrub is worth growing although I suppose the white berries are moderately attractive. To be fair, the flowers of this honeysuckle relative are very attractive to bees, but there are surely far better shrubs.

Snowberry, Symphoricarpos albus as a roadside shrub, Daventry.

24 November, 2016

Growing with the Snowberry were shrubs of Oleaster, Eleagnus x ebbingei. Though its cream flowers are quite tiny they are very fragrant; what a pity the cold north-east wind was whisking away any scent I might have detected.

The small but fragrant flowers of Oleaster. Daventry. 24 November, 2016

A little further on a bryony was winding through roadside shrubs. I am reasonably sure it was White Bryony, Bryonia dioica, but with all its leaves gone I cannot be confident.

Bryony, but which one? Daventry, 24 November, 2016

It is the only member of the Cucumber family, Cucurbitaceae, to be found wild in Britain and, oddly, the Black Bryony, Tamus communis, is the sole member of the Yam family, Dioscoriaceae, in the British flora. Black or White, the berries are poisonous.

I pushed on and soon found that my road was crossing a disused  railway track. I quickly deviated and decided to use this as an interesting way of getting into town. It was the former line which ran from Weedon, via Daventry, to Leamington Spa. With a fair degree of certainty - the sun was not to be seen - I set off towards Daventry, only to realise, 200 metres later, that I was heading in the wrong direction.

Looking towards town. I went the other way!

Daventry, 24 November, 2016

Oh bother, I thought. Nevertheless I pressed on, sure that I'd soon find myself in familiar territory..  Grey Squirrel, Dunnock, Great Tit, Magpie - the wildlife was fairly predictable but I was pleased when a pair of Goldfinches flitted across the track, just missing my head. In the chilly conditions no insects were seen although a Stinging Nettle leaf bore the mine of the fly, Agromyza anthracina, a very commonplace species.

 I pressed on yet further and, via Drayton Way, headed for town. Gorse, Ulex europaea, inevitably in flower, grew beside the road.

Kissing's in season! Gorse in Daventry, 24 November, 2016

And further on, also at the roadside, its relative, Broom. (Don't be silly Tony)

Broom, (Cytisus domesticus?) Roadside near Daventry. 24 November, 2016

Oddly enough, as I approached Daventry town centre, I found a thicket of the genuine Broom, Cytisus scoparius - but not in flower.

The real thing at the edge of Daventry. 24 November, 2016

I eventually made it, passing three or four unexpected plants of Spindle, Euonymus europaeus, on the way.

Spindle brightened a dull hedgerow. Daventry. 24 November, 2016

With my originally brisk walk now reduced to little more than a plod I continued home. Between three and four miles I suppose. Progress of a sort.






* G. Claridge Druce (1930) 'The Flora of Northamptonshire'


Comments? Tony White: diaea@yahoo.co.uk

True Grit

My alpine tub and sink need dressing with horticultural grit so, having dropped Chris off in Daventry town centre, I decided to take Shanks's pony to Dennett's Garden Centre.
Twit!
Having dropped off a couple of books at the library I set off, best foot forward (probably my left foot, as my right ankle is a bit dodgy). This, I thought, will be a piece of cake - un morceau de gateau - as the French probably never say. At the corner of  Market Square a Lavatera was still in bloom.

It was Lavatera thuringiaca (formerly known as L. olbia). It is a plant for the larger border and, although its common name of Tree Mallow overstates the case, it attains considerable dimensions. In my last blog, 'Hebe and Veronica', I discussed name changes. Now for more: three genera of the Mallow family, Malvaceae, are to be found wild in Britain: Malva itself, Lavatera and Althaea, the Marsh Mallow. Superficialy they are very similar and DNA studies indicate that the distinction between Malva and Lavatera is not justified and all plants within these genera should henceforth be regarded as members of the Malva genus. As for Althaea, these, it is suggested, should be placed in the Hollyhock genus, Alcea.  Furthermore the Mallow family should apparently not be regarded as distinct from the Lime Tree family, Tiliaceae. Oh Gawd!


Anyway, I did not allow these thoughts to intrude upon my sense of enjoyment as I strode forth through the churchyard of Holy Cross church. I made my way from the rear of the church to the busy A425, intending to walk south, but found that no pavement existed and I was forced to take a wide detour. I headed east and crossed a broad meadow - or at least it would have been a meadow a few decades ago - towards the area known as Southgate. I was in completely new territory and I realised how little I knew of Daventry.


In the hedgerows ot the east side of the meadow I found Wild Privet, Ligustrum vulgare, growing. With its lanceolate leaves it is easily distinguished from the ovate-leaved Garden Privet, L. ovalifolium. This latter is a Japanese shrub which is rarely self-sown.

Wild Privet in a hedgerow. Southgate, Daventry.

22 November, 2016

Our own, native, Wild Privet is common on limestone but here was a little unexpected. If the black berries look rather like small olives that is only to be expected for it is a member of the Olive family, Oleaceae.

By now it had become clear that my little stroll was turning into quite a walk, but not without interest. Despite climate warming - and on this matter I part company with that nice Mr Trump - this November has been distinctly chilly but, draped from a fence, a Passion Flower, Passiflora caerulea, was bravely flowering. Absurd.

Blue Passion Flower still in bloom. Daventry, 22 November, 2016

Anyway, via High March I pressed on towards Dennett's Garden Centre. Approaching by a partially flooded track (we have had heavy rain over the last thirty-six hours) I had another surprise. Growing beside the track  was a thicket of one of our most intriguing plants, the Great Horsetail, Equisetum telmateia.


Great Horsetail at the entrance to Dennett's Garden
Centre, Daventry. 22 November, 2016

I'll refrain from going into the fossil history of these primitive, ancient plants but, primitive or not, they are still with us after - according to modern research - over 130 million years. I should not have been surprised by its presence as this species is still a widespread plant in Northamptonshire.

A closer view of the diagnostic stem joints.

So, after a long slog I arrived at Dennett's. Yes, they had the grit but it was the wrong colour! I left empty handed. But it had been an interesting and revealing walk.

Hebe and Veronica

Oh dear! Life can be so complicated.


At this time of the year we do not expect bright floral colours to enliven our gardens but fortunately we have Hebes to come to the rescue. Or do we? When these versatile, varied and valuable shrubs were found in New Zealand it didn't take botanists long to decide that they were species of Veronica. Their shrubby habit was atypical for the genus, but Veronicas they surely were. But then, somewhere in the 1960's if memory is correct, doubts began to creep in and, with little dissent, they were re-christened Hebe, after the Greek Goddess of Youth. Nurserymen changed the labels and it was a case of  'God's in his heaven; all's right with the world', as Browning put it.

Veronicas (Hebes) are still flowering freely in our garden.

Stefen Hill, Daventry. 20 November, 2016

But then rumbling grew in the ranks.  In the late 1990's biologists Wagstaff and Garnock-Jones, utilising new DNA techniques, established that Hebes were Veronicas after all, but it must be said that horticulturalists are proving very reluctant to re-label their offerings. One can't really blame them.

Further along Christchurch Road, Daventry, other Veronicas are blooming.

Stefen Hill, Daventry. 20 November, 2016

So, are we now all sorted? Sadly no. One thing we were all happy and confident about was that Veronicas were members of the Foxglove family, Scrophulariaceae. As it turns out the genus has now been transferred to the hitherto minor Plantaginaceae family, so now the Veronicas are kin to the humble plantains of our lawns and roadsides.


But, whatever they're called, they are, as stated, brightening our gardens. Oddly enough the Veronica currently flowering in our front garden is the variety 'Midsummer Beauty'. What's in a name?