Sadly my old pal the Hungarian Mullein has passed. You can still see it where it toppled head first into the canal where, it would be nice to think, its progeny will set up home in the coming years. It’s a bit of an unusual find here in Bath and I had to argue my case with the Vice County Recorder, Helena, who very properly demanded we wait until it flowered until it could be recorded. And did it flower! Its whole life story unwound over two years between germinating in 2023 and flowering this summer and Madame and I walked the riverbank to the canal many times to record its progress; always worried that some overzealous strimmer would take it out. But spared the strimmer, the casual act of vandalism or even a careless narrowboat tether rope, this magnificent showoff did its thing and then toppled, senescent, into the canal. It’s the way of things; we are all part of the same cycle, and a successor plant is already growing next to my left foot in the photo. As you can also, the deceased was a good foot taller than me ‘though that’s not much to brag about. Let’s just say it’s over six feet and not dwell on my height.
After our walk to the canal we came back by the usual riverside walk and recorded a lovely Winter Cherry in full blossom, a field Scabious and two Mallow species, plus a Welsh poppy and what’s called (I think) a confused Michaelmas daisy, so called not because it’s confused (I’m not sure if that’s possible for a flower) but those of us who try to name it are. Very confused. All these in flower as well as some Mugwort whose flowers are extremely dull and minimalist but whose leaves when brewed up are said to give you lucid dreams. I can’t vouch for that because my dreams are all too lucid already, and often hang over me all day. I wonder if a brew made from the Michaelmas Daisy might give you confusing dreams – all I’m sure of is that this group of plants is a bit dodgy and can damage your liver – so they all go into the category of temptations resisted (like incest and Morris dancing as Oscar Wilde might have said).
By complete coincidence we passed by the edge of Green Park and came across one of the parents of the difficult Common Lime tree in Dyrham Park. It’s unusual for me to stumble across a parent and its hybrid in a short enough period to remember the size of their respective leaves, but the much larger leaves of the (wait for it) Broad-leaved Lime, Tilia platyphyllos was a dead giveaway.
Trees are fun, and we’re blessed with a large number of champions here in Bath. Interestingly the two parents of the Common Lime are the Broad-leaved and the Small -leaved, both of which are extremely rare in the wild. But their hybrid is vigorous and easy to propagate which is why it became the Common-Lime several centuries ago. Does it matter if it’s a sort of alien invader? I’ve been reading a marvellous book titled “Alien Plants” by Clive Stace and Michael Crawley and if you’re at all bothered by what you might call boat plants you’re going to have a very bare garden indeed.
Here the larger problem of wild seed sowing is raising its head. Several years ago, as the riverside walk was being initiated, a neglected border which had an abundance of genuine native plants was dug up and re-seeded with wildflowers. I’d previously found a plant called Weld growing there in the shadow of what would have been a very smelly dyeworks where it’s likely Weld was used. Sadly the wildflowers grew for one season only and then disappeared. I’ve not seen any of the original plants again. Dyrham Park tried a similar thing but their plot was invaded by creeping thistle and the expensive wildflowers all disappeared. This week, going through my photos, I found Corn Marigolds, Field Marigolds and Cornflowers had all enjoyed a brief moment in the sun before being choked out by the thugs. It would be far better to learn to appreciate the plants that actually thrive here than to import a whole bunch of no-hopers, however beautiful!