I love a bit of hedgelaying. I’m too old/knackered/incompetent to do very much, but it’s a good workout and – more importantly – it’s good for wildlife in the garden.
I was taught the local style here which – thank the Lord – is about as simple as there is. Not for me the intricacies of the Midland hedge, which is what most think about when hedgelaying comes to mind. Midland hedges are things of great beauty; semi-cut stems, or “pleachers”, angle gracefully through a framework of stakes and binders.
Down here we have fat sedentary sheep, and the style I learnt, “Dorset”, reflects that (we’re on the Somerset/Dorset border). It’s pretty rough and ready, but I still find it a struggle to do well – I guess as I don’t do enough of it. The hedges I lay seem to work well enough though, and I’m sure my hedgelaying is great for the wildlife in the garden.
Originally, the idea was both to thicken up the base of a traditional hedge to ensure it was stockproof, and to reduce it to stop it growing out. Armies of ditchers and hedgers dotted the rural landscape in winter before the advent of the excavator and the flail. You can see the idea in these photos of the section I laid over the weekend:
These days it’s still a good idea, if you can. For most it’s not a practical option, but hedgelaying will produce a much thicker, more solid hedge. Great habitat and wildlife corridor, which is why we support the National Hedgelaying Society. Despite all the brash you take off, great for the hedge too; it won’t grow out and, ultimately, turn into a line of small trees.
The hedge won’t need anything other than a gentle trim for the next few years either, and this predominantly Hawthorn hedge will recover to it’s original height in no time.* It was around 8 feet tall and I’ve reduced it to around two feet, but as the plants are dormant(ish!) I haven’t done them any harm. Even where I’ve screwed up, the thorn will regenerate as if it were coppiced. It’s pretty indestructable, like all our traditional hedge plants. I’ll take some pics over the next couple of years to show it develop.
*It’s good practice though to only do a section at a time.
As the rain carries on lashing down I thought it might be fun to post some photos of our wildflower meadows in spring. Something to look forward to. We have several relatively small areas, which we have sown and managed slightly differently to create different habitats. Contrary to popular belief a meadow doesn’t just burst into flower in mid summer. Our wildflower meadows in spring give colour from as early as February with some coltsfoot (Tussilago farfara), and a reasonable amount of interest from April onwards. The flowering window extends all the way up to cutting in August, when the meadows are full of Common knapweed (Centaurea nigra). In our case it lasts even longer as we’ve got some Autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale) too.
There’s not much to look at here, at the beginning of March. It looks pretty much like a lawn, but closer examination shows the wildflowers. We’ve kept things tidy – our place isn’t big enough for sheep, so every now and then we mow it over the winter. You can see some unmown swales in the photo too, which are planted with Purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria) and another wet loving native plant, Yellow flag iris (Iris pseudacorus). These work brilliantly in wet winters. They’re connected to our main pond and not only slow water runoff, but also give us another rich habitat. We now have a healthy grass snake population, which followed an explosion of amphibian numbers.
By April colour is appearing, along with some insects. I’m not personally a fan of dropping things like Carnassia into meadows, but we have planted some native bulbs, as you see. The Fritillaries should naturalise particularly well as we’re on wet heavy clay. We have dandelions too, of course – such a great resource for early flying pollinators and so cheery – as well as pockets of celandine, primrose and cowslip. They’re a harbinger of the moment the meadow fully explodes into life in May.
You can only be encouraged by the tree planting bidding war going on between our politicians at the moment, I suppose. 30 million trees, 60 million trees, 700 million trees – hey – why not?* As a symptom of the electorate’s newly found enthusiasm for the environment it’s exciting though. It could – SHOULD – do a lot of good.
I’m not going to rehearse all the benefits of planting trees – they’re a given, for the sake of this blog. Since 2015 we’ve only planted 5 million trees, which sounds like a lot but is far short of the government’s target of 11 million up to 2020. We do need many more.
This suggests the first – most obvious – reason for scepticism. Will this planting get done, or will these targets suddenly become “aspirations”? Not only is there the cost of it, but there are many practical issues. Where will all these trees come from? The UK forest nursery industry has been devastated and is nowhere near capable of meeting this kind of demand. How are the folk owning the sites where they’re planted going to be compensated if they’re losing productive land? Where are all these trees going to go?
This is another issue. Planting in cities, great idea – but where are we going to plant 60 million trees (let alone 700 million!) without damaging existing landscapes, which are at least as valuable as mixed woodland? We have been planting commercial Sitka spruce plantations on peatlands, for example. This is complete madness. For starters, these areas are great at carbon sequestration – much better than woodland – which is why the Scottish Government is committed to restoring 250,000 hectares of degraded peatland by 2030. Secondly, they help with flood mitigation; burning moorland and thence destroying blanket bogs in Yorkshire has contributed to recent flooding.
We don’t want to go planting any kind of trees in unimproved grassland either; this is attractive, important and relatively rare habitat, and good at sequestering carbon and controlling water runoff.
Another concern is that tree planting is often done badly, and there are very big differences between types of planting. I’ve written about these issues before; essentially we often end up with over-planted monocultures. Commercial conifer plantations have at best very low biodiversity value – often, depending on where they’re planted, they have a negative effect. I never see glades or clearings in mixed woodland schemes either; why not?
After the planting there’s the issue of management. Will this be budgeted for? I haven’t seen any figures for it, and it’s generally much more expensive than sourcing and planting the whips. They need protecting from deer and rabbits in particular, and although biodegradable guards are now available they will need checking. If using standard plastic guards these will need removing. Ideally, the base of plants should be kept clear of grass, brush and weeds. After a while you may need to thin out some trees.
I’m also sympathetic to the idea that many areas could be rewilded. Natural regeneration surely deserves to have an important role in any scheme to increase our stock of trees. It’s relatively cheap and will – by definition – provide appropriate and diverse woodland. And what about replanting and changing the way we manage hedges, by the way? Wouldn’t this be a much easier, cheaper and less contentious way of beneficial planting? I guess it’s not as dramatic or obvious as tree planting, though.
And as far as the politicians are concerned that’s rather the point of it. There’s surely an element of tokenism behind these tree planting pledges. It seems pretty gimmicky. It’s as if policy gonks suddenly realised they needed a splashy (sorry!) simple idea, as recent flooding has pushed the environment even further up the electorate’s concerns.
And persuading the electorate to get tree planting is going to be an easier gig than stopping them eating so much meat or flying.
You might even be forgiven for thinking it’s the major policy on the environment for some politicians who don’t know any better themselves. I hope that tree planting doesn’t become a green figleaf, covering up inaction in other areas.
In the years I’ve been writing this blog I’ve written about flooding several times. I think it’s a really important issue – and not just because I’m sat here in Somerset. The floods – this time the flooding in Yorkshire – we are seeing are important not just because of the misery and loss they bring. They’re also important because of what they signify and how we react to that.
Just to back up a bit. I’m coming at this from the increasingly consensual position that the flooding we are now experiencing in the UK has been a consequence of several factors, including – at the risk of stating the blindingly obvious – a lot of rain. We are experiencing more extreme weather events and, consequently, more related disasters. These are among the most obvious symptoms of climate change.
It’s F***ing Raining
It’s interesting that some people find this really hard to take, and that (at least most of) the naysayers seem to be of a particular political hue. In Australia, deputy Prime Minister Michael McCormack called environmentalists “inner-city raving lunatics” for suggesting there was a link between climate change and the wildfires ravaging New South Wales and Queensland. Donald Trump blamed the Californian governor, a Democrat, for the terrible forest fires there saying he had done a “terrible job of forest management”. He took to Twitter: “Every year, as the fire’s (sic) rage & California burns, it is the same thing – and then he comes to the Federal Government for $$$ help. No more. Get your act together Governor,”
For too long the root cause of increasing extreme weather events has been “opinion” – like the anti-vaxxing scandal. Our news outlets have pandered to this. They would do well to remember:
If someone says it’s raining and another person says it’s dry, it’s not your job to quote them both. Your job is to look out the f***ing window and find out which is true.
Attributed to Will McAvoy, Newsroom
Lorraine Chase Did It
Some people continue to deny that the weather has changed at all. Some say it’s the EU’s fault. Others that “climate hoaxers” are seeding clouds over Luton Airport to cause flooding in Yorkshire. Cunning. Conspiracy theories and denial will ebb away as more and more people are impacted, you would think. Try telling the inhabitants of Abaco Bay that the hurricane that hit Barbados this year was just another hurricane.
The last to change their minds on this will be those who see this as some kind of issue pushed by a political opponent with an agenda. It. Is. Not.
The Wisdom of Crowds
What IS a political issue, of course, is the way we respond. As I have said before, our system of government is badly equipped to quickly produce the kind of long term and expensive answers that environmental problems demand. They are often complicated and nuanced. Many are unpopular – no-one wants to be told they will have to permanently abandon their house or farm. Solutions require politicians to cross tribal boundaries and give solid financial commitments. Obviously going to happen.
In the short term, more money might find its way to flood prevention – although the auguries aren’t good. Despite environmental concerns beginning to poll, the Environment Agency is now so under-funded it can’t help. Since 2013 the EA has lost nearly 20% of its staff. Houses continue to be built on flood plains willy nilly. Our built environment continues to include too many impermeable hard surfaces and not enough SuDS.
Moreover, there are anti-science forces at work here too, when it comes to methods of flood prevention. On news reports I hear over and over again that if rivers and ditches were properly dredged – “like they used to be” – then the problem would go away. Dredging simply isn’t the answer. It might help in some areas, but not if you get a month’s rainfall in 24 hours – and then more rain. Not if water pours off denuded hillsides. Not if the area you’re trying to protect – like the Somerset Levels – is 650 square kilometres with only around a 4m drop to sea level (currently!); the water has nowhere to go. Rivers aren’t downpipes in an efficient artificial drainage system. If you do dredge or build physical flood defences – at vast environmental and economic cost – you will just shunt the problem somewhere else. The flooding at Fishlake (a village in the Great Humberhead Levels – which used to be largely peat bog) was partly the consequence of the new flood defences at Sheffield, for example.
Hydrologists are big on other stuff. Slowing the flow of water from catchment areas. Managing those areas to absorb more rainfall and reduce runoff. Accepting and identifying where rivers will flood when they want to.*
It’s these evidence based solutions we need to get a move on with. We need to take this seriously (perhaps when London floods we will) and understand that what were 200 year weather events are the new normal. Quite apart from the human misery and social disintegration it brings, flooding also has a huge economic cost.
We need our politicians to stop bickering for a moment and take the lead on this. They need to dramatically increase funding for the EA and take some decisions which will be unpopular and expensive in the short term. We need to understand the landscape and change and adapt to it. There are some encouraging initiatives going on, but nothing of the kind of urgency and scale required. In the bigger picture, it might also be a start to reconstitute the Department For Climate Change.
*This is another example of how we have become removed from the natural landscape, by the way. We have forgotten this kind of stuff.
Nearly 2/3 of people in the UK earning over £250,000 gave nothing to charity last year (Source: HMRC, cited in The Times). Of those who did, the average donation was £1000. Total giving among this group was down 12% over 5 years. Depressing but unsurprising.
This isn’t a universal problem, of course. I know a small number of high net worth individuals who are incredibly generous. The impact they have on the causes they support – often small, specialist charities – is immeasurable.
I’ve heard too many reasons for not giving, though. The wealthy never seem to think they have enough money. They worry about a change in the tax regime. They worry about their pensions. They’ve lost confidence in charities’ governance.
Don’t get me wrong – I’ve got some sympathy with all this. The NGOs don’t help themselves sometimes either – they don’t know how to reach out to the right people.
Philanthropy is much less well developed here than it is in the U.S.. We’ve lost the habit over the last 100 years or so. It means there’s no peer pressure; giving isn’t the norm. I think it’s also true that society here feels less joined up than it used to. The rich are richer than they were, and the more money they have, the more disconnected they feel.
This is a problem which is becoming critical in the “ENGO” space – that’s environmental charities. In the absence of government money, philanthropic giving is really important. Not much giving from foundations – a good proxy for philanthropy generally – heads to the environment. It’s around 7% of ENGO total income. Only 10 foundations account for 60% of that (Source: greenfunders.org).
This is deeply ironic, of course, because the natural environment is precisely what you can’t live apart from, however rich you are. You can’t ignore it, and no amount of money can insulate you from it:
We’ve just got back from a wonderful trip to Japan*. Among the rugby and the sightseeing and the hiking we were caught in typhoon Hagibis last weekend in Tokyo. It was a reminder that Japan is a country almost uniquely vulnerable to natural disaster.
The majority of its 127 million population are crammed into coastal plains, while much of its increasingly depopulated interior is mountainous and beautiful but inaccessible. The country is a mess of tectonic plates, and the earthquakes and tsunami there can be devastating. Over 140,000 died in the 1923 Kanto earthquake and its subsequent firestorm. Typhoons barrel up from the Pacific with increasing violence, bringing storm surge and massive quantities of rainfall. Widespread flooding and landslides follow.
I visited Japan for many years, living there for a bit too, and it occurred to me as now that this vulnerability explained a lot about the people’s relationship with nature. Despite only 9% of the population – and a pretty ancient 9% – living outside urban areas, the Japanese are still pretty close to it. This is the country where Shinto shrines still prosper, celebrating local mountains, trees and rivers, and hosting local festivals. A rich Buddhist and Shinto mythology seems perhaps oddly alive and relevant in this highest of high tech societies. The natural world is mysterious and disordered, beautiful and threatening.
The Japanese response to it seems complicated – and I’m not nearly informed enough to understand it. They venerate the natural world while seemingly wanting to concrete it over and network it with power lines. Japan is the nation which hunts Minke whales. On the other hand, Tokyo subway stations pipe birdsong to soothe stressed commuters, and cherry blossom parties – hanami – are one of the highlights of the year.
The sometimes astonishing gardens I have visited seem to be a pretty good expression of this close relation to the natural world and the need to control it. I’m no garden designer, but their form and rhythm seems simultaneously natural and tightly studied. They’re highly immersive, and their explicit purpose is often to encourage the viewer to contemplate his/her own relation to nature.
Nature in the UK is, of course, relatively benign. By and large, we don’t have insects or snakes which can put you in hospital. There aren’t bears roaming the Lake District ready to pick off the odd unwary hiker. We don’t experience earthquakes and don’t regularly – haven’t regularly – experienced hurricanes or widescale flooding.
I’m sure this is one of the reasons why we’re suffering from what ecologists call “nature deficit disorder”. In Britain we haven’t had to understand nature in the same way because we aren’t threatened by it.
This issue was well illustrated over the weekend. Some England rugby fans were complaining about their game being cancelled ahead of the typhoon, which then hit as predicted pretty much at the time of the kick off and has killed over 70 people (as at the time of writing).
I hope it was an experience they will not quickly forget.
There was an article in the Sunday Times this morning by Eric Kaufmann which partly articulated something which has been troubling me for a while. It starts:
If Greta Thunberg wants to beat climate change by 2030, she needs to convince conservatives and the middle-aged, not young, metropolitan liberals. This is possible only if environmentalism sheds its exclusive association with the liberal left...
…For conservatives, ecologists must underscore the threat climate change poses to local and national ways of life.
This is demonstrably true across western democracies. Failure to engage swathes of – important – people is disastrous for the environmental cause, particularly in these days of polarised, tribal politics.
Most Republicans don’t even believe climate change is man made, whereas 66% of Democrats worry about it a “great deal”. It’s as if it has become a political belief rather than a scientific fact – part of a left leaning political ideology. There are even some on the Right here who still think climate change is a hoax. It’s a conspiracy to stop people having a good time, or to advance some kind of obscure economic or political agenda.
Why has this happened?
Firstly, as the article points out, it’s the environmentalists’ fault. They don’t know how to connect with Conservative voters and opinion formers, who mock them. Their earnestness and apparent unworldliness make them easy targets. Greta Thunberg goes to America by boat and it looks gimmicky and eccentric. She goes to America by plane and she is attacked for her hypocrisy. She can’t win. There is – of course – often a good dose of hypocrisy for the Press to focus on when the rich and famous get involved.
This is all ironic, because there are core shared ideas between conservation and conservatism. The name is a clue. Buying local, preserving local landscapes and local distinctiveness… Climate change and biodiversity loss are now having local impacts here. But, instead, environmental commentators on the Left and Right alienate people not of the same political tribe.
Secondly, the environmentalists’ message is essentially misanthropic and anti-capitalist. To save the planet we have to be fewer and/or consume less, and more responsibly. We have to stop doing things. Stop flying, stop driving, stop using plastic, stop shooting birds, stop buying palm oil products…
Lastly, most of the proposed or actual responses to issues like climate change, biodiversity loss, pollution etc. include increased government oversight and/or intervention. And cost. Of this the Right is, understandably, suspicious – governments don’t have sparkling track records on this stuff.
What do I make of this? There’s much work to do. In the short term, I do hope the government will stay true to its conservative beliefs and treads carefully while negotiating post-Brexit trade deals. We must not sacrifice environmental ideals for short term economic / political gain.
Longer term, we must break down its exclusive link with the liberal left and understand how to link conservation and conservatism as well. Politicians may stumble into this because of the way the young vote. Environmentalists must find a way to work with people with power, whoever they are. Because they’re powerful/wealthy/landed doesn’t mean they’re automatically uncaring and aren’t receptive to ideas (some are, of course, and they need working on too!). They will not respond, however, if they are delivered in a political wrapper.
Responses to the crises we face should be pragmatic, ranging from the international and nationally led to the local and individual. We must reinforce local structures to enable this, and educate individuals to drive it.
I don’t think I’ve written a book review since third form, but felt moved to write briefly about Dave Goulson’s The Garden Jungle.
Spoiler alert: I would have been surprised if I didn’t like it. I’m familiar with Dave’s work as a scientist, author and founder of the Bumblebee Conservation Trust.
OK, so the book’s not perfect. There are some things which didn’t quite work. The chapters are headed by recipes, which add to its charm, but which I’m not sure fit. It’s sometimes stylistically clunky. These are small things. This is a book I would love to have written, full of key ideas about fighting biodiversity loss and climate change. I couldn’t find anything I disagreed with either philosophically or in practical terms*, and came across many – possibly most – of the messages I’ve tried to communicate over the years.
Orchards, meadows, ponds, and – of course – a fantastical cast of small animals. These are some of my favourite things. How lovely to read about them and their importance here. And the section on chemicals deserves close attention too; Dave was one of the earliest to sound the alarm on the effects of neonicotinoids.
It is – of course – a book which is well informed and evidence based throughout. Concepts are delivered in an accessible, practical, non-preachy, and upbeat way. Dave’s enthusiasm for the subject drives the book on. He takes no prisoners; I loved the section on wildflower seed, for example.
I often – usually – almost always – have reservations about this sort of book. Last year we had “Rewilding”; I struggled to get past some odd misconceptions and to understand its broader relevance. “The Garden Jungle” is different. There are really empowering ideas here for us all, and the more of us who read this book the better. Let’s all get out in the garden and dig.
*although would probably buy my wildflower seed from… here!
Do you want a patch of wildflowers in your garden? The right answer! I think they can look lovely; some are long flowering too, like this mallow in the gravel by our back door, and of course they’re all good for wildlife.
I’m talking here about wildflowers on their own, not mixed with grasses, which will give you a wildflower meadow. This will require a different management regime. I’m also talking about British wildflowers.
Whether you’re growing a meadow or just wildflowers, you will need a nice clean seedbed before you start. Only sow onto bare earth, clear of weeds and grasses. I can’t stress how important this is! A little time preparing will save you hours of labour later. The wildflowers will spread out over time and suppress any weeds that try to get established.
They will do better in a low fertility growing medium. I know this sticks in the throat of some experienced gardeners, who have spent many hours improving their soil with manure and compost. It’s not that wildflowers don’t like high fertility soil; it’s just that everything else – dock, nettle, thistle etc etc – likes it more. Wildflowers are – by definition – very hardy, so don’t need a great deal of tender care. This all means that they will sit uneasily in your beautifully improved flowerbeds, and most likely need a spot of their own. Having said that, we use them in blocks in their own beds (Red campion is an easy favourite), and the wildflowers in your garden will provide a lovely contrast with the more “exotic”.
In practical terms, if your wildflower patch is small you can reduce the fertility of the soil by adding something like horticultural or sharp sand to it. If you’re sowing them onto a planter or raised bed, use sand and topsoil mixed together at a ratio of something around 1:3 (that’s not a scientific calculation, by the way!). I would also put some cardboard underneath a raised bed sitting on soil, which will rot away over time but prevent any really hardy weeds making a nuisance of themselves.
We talk elsewhere about the relative merits of seed, plugs and turf , but I’m concentrating here on the cheapest and most diverse approach – seed.
When you come to buy your seed we would of course prefer you to buy it from us (!). If you don’t, please make sure the species in the mix are sensible, are UK wildflower species (you laugh, but many seed mixes aren’t!), and that the seed comes from plants in the UK. If it’s not stated that it does, the chances are it hasn’t. This can be a problem in terms of biosecurity and hybridisation, among other things.
The wildflower only seed mixes we sell are generally perennials, but they do have some biennials and annuals in them too. The annuals will flower very quickly – around 60 days after seeding, if sown in spring – to give you a sense of achievement!
The optimum time for sowing is September – October. The books all say you can sow in spring too. Having said that, with the weather the way it is, the rule book is being reinvented – we have successfully seeded wildflower meadows from March until November. You just need warm moist soil. Conditions vary so much across the UK now it’s hard to generalise. I wouldn’t sow in spring in East Anglia, for example, whereas in Wales I might sow all the way through the summer, pretty much.
Anyway – where was I? – oh yes – seeding. Once you have your seed, pause. Your patch will only need seeding at a very low rate. It’s more like carrot seed than grass seed. We recommend our mixes are sown at 1g to 2g per square metre, which really is not a lot. Don’t chuck down loads of seed – the quicker growing species will just crowd out the others. Mix the seed with some of your sand if you’re nervous, which will bulk it out and make it easier to see where you’ve sown.
Don’t cover the seed once sown. Just lightly roll or tread in, and maybe water if it’s dry.
You will notice the annuals in the mix, like poppies and cornflowers, which germinate very quickly – that’s their strategy. The perennials will be much, much slower. If you sow wildflowers in your garden in September, some won’t even germinate until the following summer! They won’t generally flower in their first season.
Make sure you keep an eye on the seedlings as they do develop. Weed out anything you recognise that shouldn’t be there – take no prisoners! You may find thistles appearing, which are bad – not in themselves, but they can quickly take over. If you really can’t bear to hoick them out, then deadhead them before they set seed.
The timing of tidying up your wildflower area is less mission critical than it would be if you had a meadow. If it’s small you could deadhead individual plants, or leave seedheads on. Alternatively you could take a pair of shears to it in late summer/early autumn. Remember that all these plants will die back and would be perfectly happy if grazed all winter. You could do the equivalent if you wanted, but don’t once you notice new growth starting in March.
I think that’s about it. I hope you enjoy your new wildflowers in your garden – they’ll look good as well as do good!
I went to a fascinating seminar given by Nigel Dunnett last week – he of pictorial meadows. Nigel is one of the leading influencers of landscape design in the UK. His shtick is “naturalistic planting” and – my – he is a very impressive bloke. I first came across him at Chelsea many years ago, and his star has risen steadily ever since. He seeded those amazing annuals at the London Olympics, for example. He’s lovely – a great communicator (as you’d expect from a Prof!) and hugely well informed and trained. A proper botanist. He’s also an enthusiast.
I picked up a lot of practical tips, but the day also provoked some bigger questions. Nigel’s BIG IDEA is creating landscapes that people can immerse themselves in and – consequently – respond to. He feels that we all have a visceral and uplifting response to nature, and flowers in particular. He spends his time trying to trigger that response. Fab. He has a tremendous understanding of his trade, and how to best do this. How we need this kind of reconnection, which can be the gateway to all sorts of other understanding.
I’m interested in how he does this. First of all, he’s a botanist. He draws people in exclusively through flowers – not fauna. He’s really, really good at this. He has a combination of a botanist’s knowledge and a designer’s eye, which means he can effortlessly combine plant combinations from all over the globe.
Regular readers of these pages will know that we try to engage peeps through flora AND their associated fauna. Plant Purging buckthorn and you will get Yellow Brimstones. That kind of thing. Many of our native animal species have intimate and fragile relationships with our native plant species. It turns out too that pollinators generally prefer native flowers for pollen and nectart when given the choice.
As Nigel points out, this distinction between native wildflowers and other flowers shouldn’t be as black and white as it is often portrayed. The world I inhabit splits into two warring camps; at their extremes the native plants from local sites only faction, and at the other whatever it takes to make people happy. I guess commercial pressures accentuate these two views. We promote native plants partly because that’s what we sell. We sell them because we think they are important.
In fact the distinction between “native” and “non-native” is more nuanced. It’s on a sliding scale between what Nigel calls “ecological” planting at one end and “horticultural” at the other. I like this idea. I guess I’m somewhere more towards the “ecological” end than him. In two and a half hours of slides in his presentation the only animals that appeared were dogs and yaks.
He points out – quite rightly – that “ecological” planting has never really caught on, even in today’s enlightened times. “Wildlife gardening” is too often associated with a visually unattractive and untidy mess, which many people don’t like. Sometimes it’s challenging too. Wildflower meadows, for example, many people find difficult. They’re not engaged with the fauna they bring either – or often don’t even notice what turns up. Flowers, that’s the thing; easy quick flowers, in naturalistic drifts.
Nigel promoted this key idea by coining the phrase “pictorial meadows”. I’m still not sure I forgive him. Pictorial Meadows is now a company which spun off from his work at the University of Sheffield.
I do understand his rationale, and I love the marketing idea, but it has created a deal of confusion among the punters, and not to say difficulty for those of us promoting… actual meadows. Meadows are things with grass and perennial wildflowers, in my book. They’re not swathes of non-native and native annual wildflowers on their own, lovely though they may be.
This sort of planting needs the same preparation as meadow establishment, incidentally; low fertility soils cleared of existing weeds and grasses. I guess they need the same kind of levels of management too. They’re definitely more horticultural than ecological, however, and despite his protestations he must know that.
What do I mean by that? Pictorial meadows look fab. They have lots of flowers, lots of colour, and a long flowering window. “Traditional” hay meadows have less colour and need more managing because they include grass. It’s absolutely true that gardeners don’t necessarily want the grass and all the messing around it involves.
It’s also true though that a traditional meadow will have more biodiversity than a pictorial meadow. They have perennial grass and wildflower species which allow all sorts of invertebrates to overwinter and fee their larval stages. The grasses don’t just support the obvious species like grasshoppers, they’re also great habitat for voles (and hence owls) and other small mammals and ground nesting birds, for example. It’s this that draws people in as much as the flowers themselves – more so, in my experience.
The meadow seed mixes we sell vary according to the location of their donor site. Not just the soil type but also the area of the country, which will dictate the species mix and which subspecies of plant you will get. Old meadows have evolved naturally over hundreds of years. All quite different to a pictorial meadow.
Pictorial Meadows’ success has annoyed me from a commercial point of view, as you’ll understand. Customers expect something from a meadow I don’t. They’re not attuned to its subtleties and fauna. They don’t see the way that native plants associate and adapt to local conditions. As Nigel says, the pleasure taken from the minutiae of the natural world is no small thing itself.
He also says that traditional meadow making is about restoration rather than creation. I don’t agree. Why not start a traditional meadow, even thought you don’t want any hay? Isn’t it a thing of beauty as well as biodiversity? How can you keep the grass out of it anyway?
This has all troubled me. But I’ve reflected on it, and you know what? Perhaps it matters less than I think.
We need more flowers now, and we need lots of them. We need to get people to reconnect with nature as quickly as possible. Lots of flowers might be a great way to do that, at least initially. Let’s not make perfection the enemy of the good.