Croaking into Spring

smart

Mrs T had been subdued, hardly mentioning the lack of frogspawn in our garden pond. It’s an annual worry: will they lay this year? Last summer neighbours cleared a neglected garden and disturbed many frogs in the ivy that was undermining the garden wall.

I said nothing; till today. As I let myself through the back gate I heard a croak, a full-throated, joyous croak. At least one frog was alive! Naturally I peered into the pond and there I saw two mounds of frogs’ eggs. Had a certain friend brought some from her garden which always has a surplus?

Not at all, these had been laid overnight. Coming later in the season they are less likely to be killed by frost, though we’ll have to be on hand to cover the pond overnight with bubble wrap. Let’s live in hope, and continue to provide places of refuge amid ground cover plants such as ivy, periwinkle or these violets.

A moment in the life of Ivy

At the end of last month we passed this ivy covered wall, the tight clusters of flower buds about to burst out into clusters, and then, as Autumn eases down into winter, the bees will have their last outing before hibernation, living off the stored honey till Spring calls them out once more.

Where did that come from?

Yesterday, as you can see, it was raining when I got to the Garden, and it stayed that way all the time I was there. That’s not the reason for the post, though, but the plant the pictures show.

You’ll notice that it has no hint of green about it; this is because it is a parasite and cannot make its own chlorophyll. It derives this vital fluid from tapping into the roots of its host plant, which is ivy. It’s name is Orobanche hederae, or ivy broomrape.

When I was identifying this at the Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland there were few records mapped in Kent, the nearest being at Eastry village 14 miles away. That of course does not mean there are none nearer than that, they may even be relatively common since ivy, the host plant, grows almost everywhere. I don’t think anyone has introduced it here on purpose, especially to the awkward corner it occupies, so the guess has to be that a highly favoured seed – they are like specks of dust – blew here from wherever the parent plant was growing. The third picture shows that there are more shoots to come, so it’s well established with us. Let’s hope we can keep it thriving.

Who’s been sleeping in my hedge?

We could have called this the hedge trimmer’s reward, because it was an hour’s work on the rampant ivy that brought these two creatures to light. Notice how the golden moth’s pattern breaks up its shape, and in the other picture, the grey moth matches the spider’s nest web to its left. The hedge provides a home for these creatures, away from most of their predators, so it will be trimmed, not massacred, every couple of years. More welcoming for insects and than the plain brick wall that was here when we moved in; it houses robins and blackbirds most years.

 

 

No-one to kiss.

Winter, and I had a window seat on the train to work. Along a quarter mile or so where the rails run near the river it was plain that some trees were not infested with ivy but with mistletoe, not yet enough for a commercial harvest – unlike these trees in Oxford. Has the University or the College considered such an income stream? There was one small clump in a tree above the railway cutting, close enough to warrant a kiss – but Mrs Turnstone was five miles away in the supermarket.

Guerrilla Gardening continued

I should have revisited the graffiti-covering ivy back in September. I waited, as I was thinking it looked all as it did in Spring. But it has been trying to grow; the dark-leaved branch is racing ahead of the variegated since it takes in more sunshine through the extra chlorophyll in its leaves.

Progress was disappointing since two branches did not grasp the wall with their roots and were blown away in high winds funnelled along the pathway. The present stems look well attached, so let’s hope they cover most of the scribble this year.

At home in the hedge

I have been trimming the hedge of ivy that has grown over the top of the garden wall, hoping to bring light to the apple trees and vine. That hedge held at least three birds’ nests: two blackbirds’ and a robins’, the latter dry as a bone and all concealed until the loppers passed by.

Less welcome were the many snails, resting up till the weather favours them again; they’ve been busy all through November and December until this cold spell set in. There were hibernating aphid and other pests, but my companion knew what to do with them. One of last year’s tenants, the robin, was keeping a very close eye on what was uncovered, and snapped up more than a few inconsidered trifles.

Guerilla Gardening

I don’t generally photograph graffiti, especially when the ugliness of it is offensive in itself. True this garage wall was hardly a thing of beauty but it has well-laid courses of brick and does its job.

The scribble is hardly well-crafted, but it would be time-consuming and silly to remove it. No sooner was the door repainted than the felt-tip pens were out again.

My attempt at an answer is to help nature to take its course. An ivy cutting poked between the bricks and the asphalt has begun climbing the wall. Let’s see where we are come September.