Hawthorn

It is almost impossible to overestimate the impact that the coming of the hawthorn blossom in May has on Milton Country Park, and the surrounding countryside.  Almost every hedge and innumerable bushes are thickly covered with creamy white flowers.

Hawthorn Blossom Framed by Arch of Trees.  By Deep Pool - 27 May 2016

Hawthorn has been an important part of the landscape for well over a thousand years: it name is derived from the anglo-saxon 'haegthorn' meaning hedgethorn.  In those times, it was not only used for hedges, but individual bushes were often important boundary markers.  It is not surprising then, that over the centuries, hawthorn has gained many names, including: hedgethorn, quickthorn, whitethorn, may, beltane, and quickset.  It has also attracted a great deal of folk lore.

Hedgerow Covered in Blossom.  Path by Wetlands - 29 May 2016

Hawthorn is perhaps most strongly associated with the month of May, and May Day celebrations in particular. Either in the evening of April 30^th or early in the morning of the day itself, villagers would go out and gather armfuls of may to decorate their houses. This symbolised the start of the growing season and brought new life into the village.

'Knots of May' on bushes in centre of park - 22 May 2016

This is the basis of the expression 'to go a'maying', and also the origin of the rhyme 'Here we go gathering nuts in May'. Like most nursery rhymes, I had recited it endlessly, but never thought about the problem at its very heart – there are no nuts in May. Here 'nuts' refers to the 'knots' of hawthorn flowers on the branches.

But May Day is also a fertility celebration, and many who collected flowers on 30^th April would stay out all night love-making, causing a minor baby boom at this time of year. When the Christians came to claim this festival as their own, they wanted nothing to do with such ribaldry, and, instead, turned May into a month of celibacy and restraint. This has led one author to put rather a different interpretation on 'ne'er cast a clout till May is out'. He suggests that it is an instruction not to change one's clothes at all during the month. Why? Because any sign of sexual activity will be impossible to detect on such dirty and dishevelled clothes.

The Smell of Plague Comes to Milton Country Park.  Centre of Park - 22 May 2016

Hawthorn has more sinister associations as well.  May flowers were said to smell of plague.  This is well based as one of the components of the scent is trimethylamine, which is one of the first chemicals released by rotting corpses.

More equivocally, is its association with witches.  While some believed that witches rode on broomsticks made of hawthorn, others put sprigs of hawthorn over their doorways to keep the ladies out!

Drug Store or Fairy House? By Fen Road Exit - 22 May 2016

It widely believed that fairies lived in hawthorn bushes.  In the ballad of 'Thomas the Rimmer', the eponymous hero is abducted by a fairy queen in a hawthorn bush and taken to a fairy kingdom, where he was kept for seven days.  So the bush pictured here could be a Harry Potter-like portal to a magic place!

Hawthorn is held to be a veritable super drug store.  A bath in the dew of the flowers collected on May Day brings not only a better complexion, but a healthy and lucky future too.  Its leaves can be eaten, hence, 'bread and cheese' is one of its many names.  Its flowers used to make white wine, and its berries used to make jelly, tea, and a liqueur when soaked in brandy.  Its berries can be used effectively against artherosclerosis,  hypertension and cardiac arrest!

A Bush Fit for a Crown  By Dickerson's Pit - 29 May 2016

Finally, spare a thought for Richard III who had a very bad day at the office on 22nd August 1485 at the battle of Bosworth.  Not only did he lose his kingdom and his life, but, also, rather carelessly left his circlet hanging around in a hawthorn bush for his enemies to find. 

All this is a fairly superficial romp through the folk lore of hawthorn, of which there is a great deal more.  Perhaps, you will be like me, that after reading such tales, you can never look at a hawthorn bush the same again.


I have culled these thoughts from the following sources:

Wikipaedia
Trees for Life 

 Plant Lore
The Old Foodie
Nature's Calendar
Ecological Flora of the Central Chilterns
Tree Lore: Hawthorn
The Practical Herbalist
Hawthorn: Bride of the Hedgerow
Mayday Lore
The Hawthorn Tree


Next : Elderflower

Using New Eyes Part 3

"Give something a name and you think you know all about it".  This sentence has stayed in my memory long after either the subject of the lecture or the name of the lecturer who delivered it have been forgotten.  I remember it because there is more than a grain of truth in it.  But what has it got to do with photographing Milton Country Park?

A name, as the aphorism implies, carries with it a whole baggage train of associations.  These associations, both positive and negative,  profoundly influence how we look at an object, our attitude towards it, and, more fundamentally, whether we notice it at all.   Here are a couple of examples from plants found in the park.

By Fen Road Exit - 19 May 2015

Anthriscus sylvestris
Commonly called cow parsley.  Cow has connotations of a dim, lumbering beast.  It is also a derogatory term for a woman.  By implication, this plant is not a fine beauty or worthy of much attention.

It is also called Queen Anne's lace.  Now it is regal and associated with the fine and delicate material.  I don't know for certain, but I would hazard a guess which name is used when this plant is in a Chelsea show garden.  I certainly looked at, and photographed, Queen Anne's lace. 

Wetlands - 6 June 2015

Leucathemum vulgare
The dog daisy.  Not a plant to be admired and only fit for the dogs.  A plant I can't help but apologise for liking.


As ox-eye daisy, it is far more romantic conjuring up images of dewy eye Jersey cows looking dolefully over field gates in pastoral Devon.


If it is the exotic you are looking for, look no further: L.vulgare is the moon daisy.  With a name like that, who wouldn't go out of their way to find it?  I did and I found it here in Milton Country Park!

All Anglo Saxon

I have been very careful throughout this blog to use traditional anglo-saxon names for the plants that I feature.  This is for two reasons: firstly, because I think that the use of the latin name implies a degree of accuracy of identification that I do not want to claim; and, secondly, because traditional names sound as if they have some deep romantic meaning rooted in English folklore.

I have been doing some research into the origins of the names of some of the flowers found in the park.

South of Park - 23 August 2015

Nettle
Here is a surprise.  I expected the name to be associated with its irritating sting.  But it is not. Instead, the name is derived from a word meaning to sew.  It is a plant from which fibres were once made and used for sewing.

Orchard - 22 August 2015

Black Horehound
Again, I was  totally wrong in my assumption that the name was somehow associated with the vile smell of the leaves when they are bruised.  The reference gives two possible derivations: hoary honey or a corruption of the latin Urinaria  as the plant was used to treat strangury and dysuria.  And the black?  Because it has dark flowers.

Orchard - 19 August 2015

Toadflax
Finally, and most whimsically, toadflax, so named because of the alleged similarily of the flower to a little toad.  Alternatively, because toads were said to shelter beneath the plant.  

More prosaically, the flax part of the name is derived from the shape of the leaves resembling those of flax.




Queen Anne's lace 
The derivation of this name is worthy of mention.  The story goes that Queen Anne was touring the countryside, visiting her subjects, when she saw these flowers lining the roadside.  Mistakenly, she believed that the locals had draped lace over the road verges to welcome her.  Hence the name.

As a child I knew this flower as keck (used entirely in a derogatory fashion).  This name apparently comes from an old English work 'keek' meaning to peep or to spy, and relates to fact that one can look through the hollow stems of the plant.

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This shows that it is all too easy to overlook the interest and the beauty in the plants around us simply because of the names we give them.  It is also certain that I will never look at any of the plants mentioned in this post the same again, now I know something of the origins of the names I use for them. 

Next: Meadow Flowers

Intimate Landscapes

'Intimate Landscapes' is a term used to describe landscape photographs which depict an area of only a few square metres or less.  The horizon is often absent from such photographs.

The term was first used to describe the work of Eliot Porter. Working in the 1950s and 1960s, Porter was one of the pioneers of colour landscape and natural history photographs.   In photographing the American landscape, nothing was too trivial for Porter's eye.  The 1979 exhibition of his work (and subsequent book of the same title) 'Intimate Landscapes' includes pictures with titles such as 'Foxtail Grass', 'Columbine Leaves', 'Long Stemmed Grasses' , and 'Raspberry Leaves and Grass'.  This gives a clear indication of the nature of the work and its range both in terms of area and subject matter covered by the photographs.  For further information on Eliot Porter this review gives a good introduction to his work.

Dickerson's Pit - 30 August 2015

It will come as no surprise to readers of this blog that Porter's work has been a major inspiration for my own studies in Milton Country Park.  I have already published quite a number of intimate landscapes so far in this blog.  In this post, I want to highlight my use of the genre to create images of  flowers in their environment such as the example above.   Here water mint can be seen flowering on the eastern bank of Dickerson's Pit amongst the nettles and brambles surrounding a muddy inlet (seen in the middle on the right of the picture).

Todd's Pit - 30 June 2015

My second example of hedge parsley growing alongside the path on the western side of Todd's Pit highlights another characteristic of many of my intimate landscapes: the use of a very low viewpoint.  By getting down to within a few centimetres of the ground, I can give stature and importance to fairly humble plants.  

Dickerson's Pit - 2 August 2015

My third example was taken on the bank of the inlet on the western shore of Dickerson's Pit.  This was one of only two clumps of montbretia in the park, both of which were within 20 metres of each other. My first attempt at this image was foiled when my pet labrador ate the subject! 

Hall's Pond - 6 September 2015

The bracket fungus in this image are growing on some of the logs floating in Hall's Pond.  The photograph was taken from above and the green background between the logs is duckweed.

Dickerson's Pit - 19 August 2015

For the picture above, I have returned to a spot on the eastern edge of Dickerson's Pit where I have already photographed yellow irises (After the May Flower) and purple loosestrife (Summer Flowers).  This time, I have focused on the hogweed growing nearer the path.  

Some authors have suggested that the horizon should not be visible in an intimate landscape.  However, as here, with a low viewpoint, the sky can be visible without the overall area covered by the image being very large.

Todd's Pit - 17 June 2015

Another feature of the intimate landscape is that it highlights the complexity of the environment at this scale.  In this picture, there are at least another five different plant species beside the dog daisy in an area no larger than six square metres.  In a future post on intimate landscapes, I will be looking at using this technique to document plant communities.

Next: Late Summer Flowers

 

Autumn Leaves 2016

Poplar Leaves - 2 November 2016
When on the tree, the yellow and red leaves would have been admired;
on the ground, the range of colours is actually increased.

We all admire the brilliantly coloured leaves of autumn while they are still on the tree. But when they fall off the tree, onto the ground, our attitude changes; their beauty is forgotten and we see them only as a nuisance. They make our streets and gardens untidy; they block the drains; and, they form a slippery layer on the railway lines, stopping the trains running to time. All that is left is to collect them up, and either burn them or put them in the rubbish; except for gardeners, who use the dead leaves for compost.

Contrasting Leaves - 8 November 2016
The maple leaf contrasts strongly with the surrounding oak leaves
in colour, shape and texture.

But there is still plenty of visual interest in the leaves as they rot away on the ground.  While the vibrant colours remain for a few days at least after the leaves have fallen, the range of colours is increased, not only by browns, dark purples, and blacks of the decomposing leaves, but also by different coloured leaves from adjacent trees.  Similarly, there are strong contrasts in shape and texture when a leaf from one tree falls on the leaves from a different type of tree.

Why Leaves Turn Red and Yellow

Fallen Leaves - 8 November 2016
Most of the colour of dead leaves derives from the breakdown of chlorophyll
unmasking yellow and orange pigments already present.

The process by which a living green leaf, producing sugar and oxygen from sunlight and air, turns bright red or yellow, and eventually falls to earth and rots away, starts when the length of the night exceeds a certain value. The tree then builds a barrier between the leaf and the rest of the tree, cutting the leaf off from nutrients absorbed through the roots, and tree from the sugar created in the leaf. As a result the green chlorophyll pigment decays, and exposes the yellow and orange colours of the xanthophylls and carotenoids normally present in the leaf. 
 

Maple Leaves - 8 November 2016
Red pigmentation develops after the leaf is already dying.
What is the advantage to the tree?

Interestingly, the red colours come from a third group of pigments, the anthocyanins, which are only synthesised when the leaf is dying. It is not entirely clear what the advantage to the tree is to have red leaves in autumn. Theories include: to warn off aphids which might want to use the tree as an overwinter host; to undermine the camouflage of herbivores; or, to attract birds to the tree to eat berries which may otherwise be overlooked. The anthocyanins in maple leaves have been shown to stunt the growth of any nearby saplings.

The Weather For It

The best display of autumn colour is produced when a moist growing season is followed by a dry autumn with sunny days and cool, but not frosty nights. Heavy rain, gales and frost are all likely to bring a premature end to the display.

Folklore, Legend and Medicine

Oak Leaves - 8 November 2016
With a mass of leaves like this, it is easy to see why the Lakota believed
they had been dropped as a protective blanket.

Fallen leaves, though such a prominent feature of the countryside in their season, do not feature greatly in folklore. They have been associated with fairies, with a swirl of leaves believed to be evidence of fairies dancing. Catching a falling leaf, particularly at the beginning of autumn, is said to protect the catcher from illness, or, more specifically, colds, throughout the winter.

But, perhaps, the most charming legend is that of the Lakota American Indians. The god who looks after living creatures saw the suffering of the plants and flowers as they shivered in the increasing cold of Autumn. Feeling sorry for them, the deity ordained that the trees should shed their leaves over the earth as a blanket to keep the plants warm. In return, the trees were allowed one great last blaze of glory.

I could find no reference to any medicinal use of fallen leaves.  However,  a Finnish company is developing the technology to extract natural pigments from the leaves for use in the clothing and cosmetic industries. The residual biomass is high in nutrients with possible uses as a fertiliser.

Next: More Autumn 

Reeds

Deep Pool - 3 July 2016
Single reeds have a simple elegance.

This project to document Milton Country Park through the year is based on three assumptions. 

Firstly, I believe that any natural, or semi natural environment, not matter how ordinary, banal, or familiar it may seem, is worthy of attention.  

Secondly, any semi natural environment (there are very few truly natural environments left in England) is to be valued for what it offers, and not dismissed because of its lack of dramatic scenery, or noteworthy and endangered plants and animals.  For most people, more exotic and dramatic locations bring excitement for perhaps a fortnight a year; it is in the local neighbourhood that one can enjoy nature for the other 300 odd days a year.

Thirdly, that a photographer with sufficient skill and imagination, and given the right conditions, should be able to produce interesting, if not beautiful images of such places.  Edward Weston's pictures of Port Lobos and Eliot Porter's intimate landscapes of New England have been particularly inspirational to me.

Wetlands - 11 September 2016
Flower heads of the common reed shine in the early morning sun

This brings me to the subject of this week's post: reeds (I use the word loosely for any plant that that has lanceolate leaves and grows by the water).  I admit that I find these plants neither interesting nor visually  appealing.  A search on the net did not unearth any particularly interesting facts: no witches, fairies, goblins, spells or miracle cures; just practical uses in thatching, water cleansing and floor covering for churches.  So, in many ways, to write a post on the subject of reeds illustrated with interesting photographs is a good test of the ideas I outlined above.

Dickerson's Pit - 3 August 2016
Reeds are important to the appearance of the park

But reeds are important both to the ecology and to the appearance of the park. With over 2000 metres of water's edge to colonise, plus the majority of the wetland area, there are a lot of reeds in Milton Country Park. 

Soft Rush - 26 June 2016

Visually, isolated plants have a certain elegance as shown in the image at the top of this post.  With back lighting, the flower heads of the common reed are a dramatic sight.  And in the fading evening light, I found the semi-circle of circle of rushes in shallow water just away from the bank made an attractive scene.  

Branched Bur Weed - 7 July 2016

As mentioned above, I have used the term 'reed' very loosely.  I now recognise there are at least five different plants involved. The commonest of which are the common reed, Phragmites australis; the soft rush, Juncus effusus; and yellow irises, Iris pseudocaris.  The latter is definitely not a reed, but included here because of the shape of its leaves.

Greater Spearwort - 7 Jully 2016

In one small inlet off Dickerson's Pit, I found two other plants.  One was branched bur-reed, Spharganium erectum, which looks like a model of a chemical formula found in a schools science laboratory.  In the same short stretch, I was surprised by some large yellow flowers among the reeds, which on investigation proved to be greater spearwort, Ranunculus lingua.

I certainly have not unearthed any earth shattering facts or created world beating photographs, but what I have found and the images I have made do nothing to dissuade me that even the most unpromising material is worth close attention. 

Clematis and Hawthorn

This is the second post about fruits and berries in Milton Country Park.

Clematis 

 

Clematis vitalba - 21 September 2016
Its similarity to an old man's beard is striking

Clematis vitalba has colonised a number of the trees and bushes in the north of the park.  In many cases, the climber has completely swamped its host, and, as in this picture, very little of the supporting tree or bush is visible, behind a bank of the invader.  The appropriateness of its common name, old man's beard, is very obvious when a mass of its seed heads like this are seen.

Flowering clematis - 31 July 2016
Tree completely covered in clematis flowers.

This plant is also commonly known as traveller's joy. This name, that has been in use since at least the 16th Century, refers to the bright and cheerful display its seeds make during the sombre autumn months.  Although small greeny white flowers are quite showy, they do not have the impact of later fruit.  

Clematis flowers - 24 July 2016
The flowers are unusual in that they have no petals.

The most unusual feature of the flowers is that they have no petals; the petal like structure that can be seen in this picture are sepals.  Maybe not that surprising in the wild plants, but, far more so in the cultivated plants with their huge multicoloured sepals.

Clematis and brambles - 12 September 2016
Like scavengers fighting over a corpse, brambles and clematis vie for dominance

One of the things I have become increasingly interested in is plant communities and how plants compete for space and light.  In this picture, it is hard to know what is buried below the smothering mass of brambles and clematis.

Hawthorn

 

Clematis and hawthorn - 11 September 2016
Contrasting seeds of hawthorn and clematis

Given the number of hawthorn bushes in the park, it is not surprising that some have been invaded by clematis.  I found the contrast of the small dense berries of the hawthorn and the fluffy white seeds of the clematis quite striking.

Hawthorn - 12 September 2016
Hawthorn bush with a good crop of berries

What a difference a year makes!  Last year, I worked hard to find any hawthorn bush with more than a few berries.  This year, every bush, like the one in this picture, was laden with them.

Rose Hips

 

Rose Hips - 12 September 2016
Easily missed amongst the mass of hawthorn berries

Almost totally lost amongst all the millions of hawthorn berries in the park are few dog roses with their bright orange red hips. I spotted these on a bush at the north of the park.

I was surprised how little folk lore and herbal medicine is attached to this plant. Its medicinal use seems to be confined to use as a source of vitamins, particularly vitamin C, when a syrup is made from the hips.

Perhaps, the most intriguing bit of folk lore I came across is the Indian belief that if fairies ate rose hips and turned three times counter clockwise, they became invisible. Eat the rose hips again, and turn three times clockwise, and, hey presto, the fairies become visible again.

The rose has also been a symbol of silence since the early Egyptians. Any matters discussed under a rose were in strict confidence. This led to the custom of carving roses on the ceiling of banquetting halls to remind guests that any conversations were not to be repeated outside of the hall.

Next: Reeds