A conservation story from Texas

Volunteers help cut down invasive tree species in the Headwaters Sanctuary in San Antonio.

This story shows how good intentions are only the start of conservation of the planet and our own little corner of it. Click on the link to read the whole account. We have to be committed for the long haul, including the years to come after we’ve left Mother Earth.

I always think of privet – or ligustrum – as quite friendly to wild life. After all, we have at least one nest in the privet at the L’Arche garden in Canterbury. But this story is about Floridan privet in Texas. We, of course, have Japanese knotweed to contend with in England. It ruined my friend’s garden path with its spreading, subsurface roots.

Kitchen sink drama

It sounded like a wasp, battering its brains out on the skylight above the kitchen sink. As I turned to grab a chair and release her, the buzzing of her wings changed, higher pitched, then cut out. A meal for one of our housemates!

That’s better, thank you!

Azaleas are part of the rhododendron family, which means that they like an acid soil, not the alluvial, chalky ground at the L’Arche garden in Canterbury. This one was unhappy, planted out of its comfort zone, till our colleague Maurice C. came along. He dug out a hole, lined it with polythene sheeting, filled it with ericaceous compost, and moved azalea in, just before lockdown.

later I applied a little judicious pruning, but he did all the hard work. It has paid off as you see.

Congratulations Maurice! And thank you. From now on, Spring will be that much brighter each year.

Sprung Rhythm

My friend wrote today from Ontario, saying that Spring was still struggling to flower. I recalled the time I was there in April, leaving on 23rd, St George’s Day. The fields were lifeless and brown, the lakeside trees ensheathed in ice, the joggers well-wrapped.

Arrival at Heathrow was to enter another world, green, flowery, bright. Cherry and apple blossom, tulips and late daffodils.

There was a bus all the way home, so I evaded the Underground, which would have been faster, and drowsed my way home, taking in England through half-open eyes.