Trevor Hold

As a boy I lived in Northampton - Kingsthorpe to be more precise. Among the friends I had at the time was a boy who lived in the next street, Bembridge Drive, called Trevor Hold. I liked Trevor but he wasn't a member of the street urchin group to which I belonged. It wasn't that he was stand-offish, but when he was younger Trevor had been afflicted with polio and this limited his activities in terms of games and so on. Am I mistaken here? I don't believe so and yet, in a poem composed in 1983, he writes:

                 Playing with friends on a building-site
                 among the bricks and rubble,
                 the hot sun beating down on the dust
                 and the sweet smell of the pineapple weed,
                 playing with friends on a building-site
                 a nausea fills my eyes and throat:
                 I crave for meadows and blue skies.

                                          "Illness" from Mermaids and Nightingales.


The polio had affected his left arm and, as therapy, his parents had encouraged him to play the piano. To say that this was effective is an understatement. I was present when Trevor's playing led him to win a local talent competition and, to cut a long story short, he went on to eventually become a lecturer in music at Liverpool University (picking up a DMus on the way) and begin composing. His output includes a piano concerto, a symphony and a host of song cycles and other compositions with many, such as his overture 'My Uncle Silas', having a distinct Northamptonshire element (H.E.Bates, author of the "Uncle Silas" stories, came from Rushden).

As a poet he took many of his ideas from the landscape and wildlife of Northamptonshire - much as did one of his heroes, John Clare. As I wander through the fields and woodlands around Byfield I feel an ever-increasing affinity with Trevor who, like me, loved our gentle, unassuming landscape where  

              Skylarks fly up like brown clods from the ploughland,
              Twigs break into chaffinches,
              Hedges chant with blackbird and wren
              And from a pinetop sprouts a goldcrest song.

                                              "A Song in April" from Caught in Amber 
        
          


Trevor died tragically young in 2004, aged 64.

Keck, Kicksies and Cow Parsley

Only a couple of days ago I was having a whinge about the greyness of the weather. Today the sun is shining brightly, rapidly clearing away the traces of early-morning mist. Two cock blackbirds were squaring up to each in a territorial dispute in my back garden and our neighbour's Shrubby Honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima) is becoming wreathed in blossom. It bore a handful of flowers as early as 2nd January and it will be interesting to see which insects are the first to pay them a visit.

In Banbury Lane the leaves of Keck are pushing through. In most floras it is called Cow Parsley but around Northampton as kids we always called the plant keck (The word is dismissed by Chambers' Dictionary as a "false singular").  In his Asylum Poems John Clare refers to "Kicksies white" and the plant has a host of other regional names. At Byfield Coffee Club earlier today friends came up with 'Queen Anne's Lace' and 'Lady's Needlework'. The plant caught my eye this morning because one of the leaves bore a leaf mine (a brown patch at the top of the photograph). It is the work of a small fly, Phytomyza chaerophylli, a common and widespread insect. The plant suffers little or no harm and in a few weeks it will be carrying a froth of white flowers.

The stems of this plant were once used - and perhaps still are - as a sweet pickle and many of its close relatives such as chervil, parsley and angelica are still used in the kitchen.

Witches' Brooms




Silver Birch (Betula pendula)
with Witches Brooms, Byfield

Strolling along Whitecroft Lane towards the Boddington Road I came across a number of Silver Birch trees and was struck by the number of Witches Brooms' present on one specimen. Half a dozen trees had been planted but only this one was so blighted.

When first I began to study botany the true nature of these strange growths was little understood. These were vaguely attributed to "a physiological disorder", which was probably another way of saying "we don't know". In fact scientists have yet to fully unravel the causes of these growths but there is no doubt that fungi play a part. In the case of Silver Birches the fungus involved is Taphrina betulina (sometimes referred to as Taphrina turgida). On occasion these brooms have been known to measure several metres across and take over virtually all of the crown of the tree, yet there seems to be little effect on overall vigour.

Other trees will carry witches' brooms and in nearly all cases a species of Taphrina is involved, although in the case of False Acacia, Robinia pseudacacia, a phytoplasma (a bacteria-like organism) is responsible.

Spider House Rules

Another mild, dull day but, ever the optimist, I sallied forth to the pocket park. Over recent weeks I have generally been greeted by the chak-chak of Fieldfares but all was very quiet.

Again I noted leaves of bramble mined by the Glossy Bramble Pigmy Moth Stigmella splendidissimella, first recorded here about three weeks ago. This is a widespread and common 'micro-moth' although I cannot recall ever having found the adult insect.

Now, about those spiders...

Passing my net through some shrubs in the hope of catching insects I took instead a small (2 mm long) female Linyphiid spider. Commonly known as Money Spiders, there are about 270 species of Linyphiids in Britain and identification needs care. As it happens, although I made a dog's breakfast of dissecting the abdomen I manage to isolate the key structure, the epigyne, and was able to identify the spider as Erigone atra. This is an abundant species in many habitats and even occurs commonly on garden lawns.

Few spiders can by identified by the naked eye but an exception is Amaurobius similis; just before commencing my homeward journey I turned over a stone and revealed a specimen of this very common species. It is frequently found in stacks of house bricks and so on and is also abundant around houses where it spins a very sticky, lacy grey web around window frames. I was surprised to find that I hadn't recorded it previously in the Pocket Park and this brings the total number of arthropods (insects, spiders, woodlice, etc) for the site up to 434.  

If Winter comes can Spring be far behind?



Tracks of Muntjac Deer Muntiacus muntjak

Well actually it can. It certainly seemed seemed quite a long way off this morning when I ventured out in grey, drizzly conditions. But I know what Shelley meant because here and there were hints of things to come.

I was heading east but once again, as on my recent visit to Parson's Spinney - in the opposite direction - I found I was following deer tracks. This time it was a Muntjac Deer - or indeed several. I have included a ten pence coin for scale (last time I used a 50 pence coin, but times are getting hard). A buzzard passed over, mewing peevishly, hoping perhaps to find a road-kill on the A361. It was not until I re-entered the village that there were any signs of spring. Winter Aconite was in bud and, given a spot of bright sunshine, the flowers should open up fully.




With few insects about at this time of the year many trees and shrubs rely on wind pollination. Catkins are therefore frequent and those on a Corkscrew Hazel, Corylus avellana 'Contorta' in Church Way were developing nicely although they'll need a few more weeks yet. Far more spectacular were the catkins on a Silk Tassel Bush, Garrya elliptica, in the garden of my friend Harry Ferminger. A male plant produces by far the best catkins and, although some garden writers dislike the plant it can, against a pale background, look stunning.


Silk Tassel Bush, Byfield

The shrub was first collected in North America by David Douglas (of Douglas Fir fame) and named after Nicholas Garry, of the Hudson Bay Company, who had been of great assistance to Douglas. Harry grows it as a free-standing shrub but when I grew it at my previous house, I trained it against a fence. It is given its own family, the Garryaceae, containing this single genus. (Some botanists place Aucuba in this family too, but there is little obvious resemblance between the two genera and Aucuba is more normally included in the Cornel Family, Cornaceae.)                                                                  

A dull day was reprieved by an attractive
sunset over Harry Ferminger's pond.







  

                                                                   

Stinking Hellebore

The Stinking Hellebore, Helleborus foetidus, is common in gardens around Byfield and raises a similar problem to that of the Roast Beef Plant Iris foetidissima (blog for 29 November 2012). It was known to Druce (George Claridge Druce: "The Flora of Northamptonshire) who, writing in 1930, described it as "rare"; he knew of no locations for this plant in the west of Northamptonshire even though, being quite a large and robust species, it is not likely to have been overlooked. It is a rather undistinguished plant and seems unlikely to have been deliberately introduced to gardens (although I suppose the evergreen palmate leaves are quite attractive) begging the question: why is it so frequent around Byfield?



Helleborus foetidus in my back garden

 All the Hellebores, including the Christmas Rose, Helleborus niger, have petal-like sepals (sepals which function as petals are sometimes referred to at tepals); those of H. foetidus are yellowish-green usually with a purple edge. They appear early in the the year, often in January, and are visited by bees and other insects; for this reason it is given a guarded welcome in my garden. Unfortunately the plant not only has an unpleasant smell when bruised but is highly poisonous due to the presence of various glycosides. At one time it was prescribed as a violent emetic but its use has long been discontinued; it was also used to treat children with intestinal worms and there is evidence that this was frequently fatal. Legend suggests the Alexander the Great died from hellebore poisoning.

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Witch-hazels

As I sat down to write this blog I realised that I didn't have the foggiest idea of how Witch-hazels got their name. I suspected that it had nothing to do with witches, and in this I was right: it appears that "witch" as used here comes from the Old English wican - to go away. This still left me puzzled but perhaps it refers to a preparation made from the bark: it makes bruises go away. There is an alternative possibility: the word "wice" in Old English means pliant or bendable and, like our own native hazel, Witch-hazels could be used to weave "wicker" baskets. So, as I sat down to write this blog I realised that I didn't know how Witch-hazels got their name...and I still don't know!




Hamamelis mollis



I grow the Chinese Hamamelis mollis and it seems happy, having grown steadily since being planted four years ago. I have also added the rusty-flowered hybrid Hamamelis x intermedia "Aphrodite", the parents of which are H. mollis and a Japanese species, Hamamelis japonica. Witch-hazels are not found in Europe and are not at all related to our own native hazel (photographed in Byfield Pocket Park last spring) but their foliage and habit are broadly similar.



Hamamelis x intermedia


Both my Witch-hazels are in flower now and have a spicy fragrance, presumably to attract insects but I have yet to note any visitors. In fact it seems that, even in the wild, insect pollination is not commonly observed. The rarely-grown North American species, Hamamelis virginiana, flowers in late autumn and it has been reasonably postulated that all Witch-hazels flower in these chillier months to avoid competition for pollinating insects. I have to admit that if Hamamelis species grew in mid-summer I wouldn't bother with them but as I look out of my window now their appearance pleases me. My specimens also have glorious autumn foliage of crimson-orange - although they were a disappointment this last season. 





Hazel, Corylus avellana in Byfield Pocket Park