Snowdrops flowering

In our garden here in Bristol, the snowdrops have been threatening to flower for a week or so.  Last week’s hard weather stalled their flowering but today’s mild air seems to have encouraged the flowers to open.

Out in the countryside, flowering is likely to be later this month and every year we try to visit a wood with lots of snowdrops.  I have found south facing slopes to be particularly good and such locations certainly flower earlier than more shaded north facing spots.

Seaside planning success

Last week we heard good news from two of our projects, both of which, coincidentally, are located by the seaside. 

Firstly, our landscape design for the Gara Rock development was passed by South Hams District Council.  The site is partially within the South Hams AONB and our design had to respect the local landscape and ecology, as well as creating pleasure gardens for hotel guests and visitors.  Our proposals aim to give visitors a concentrated experience of coastal plants and flowers, all set within a sheltering framework of Devon banks. 

The second project is a private residence in Clevedon, Somerset that overlooks the Bristol Channel, with views across the water as far as Cardiff and Barry.  The waters of the Channel are always changing due to tide, wind and cloud cover.  The views from the garden benefit from an elevated position, though this is a down side, as the exposure is enormous.

In fact, both sites are subject to high winds and salt spray, which will make the establishment of new plants problematic.  Our planning package included 15 year management plans to ensure that our original vision is achieved.  The challenge now is to get those plants growing.

The sketch (left) shows our concept at Gara for sheltered paths passing through overhanging hedging - how long will that take to establish?  Locally distinctive thrift, crown vetch, bluebells and foxgloves will be planted into the hedge banks, as well as interesting little plants such as navelwort and stonecrop.

Winter Pattern

The mild November and December ended with heavy rains and wild winds.  In the wake of the extreme weather, new patterns were left behind in the landscape, to replace the colourful fabric of autumn.

On the river bank, leaves, straw, branches and human debris were left high and dry by the floods, many metres above the now clear low water.  The thatch of debris points horizontally downstream but won’t last long. Straw and twigs are carried away by rooks and crows and only the plastic rubbish will remain come springtime.

Under foot ripples of rich silt cover bank and field.  Footprints of water birds lead to and from the water but otter footprints seem to run parallel with the river.  Sometimes, the remains of their meals can be found high and dry.  Last winter I found the head and tail of a small jack pike.  This winter I found the heads and tails of spent salmon on the banks of the Wye.  I have the dried head in our little museum of natural history.  The salmon were left to decay.

These patterns of debris are temporary.  The grass grows lush through the silt, fed by nutrients borne by the river.  Strand lines of leaves are dragged below ground by earthworms.    Bones get gnawed and dragged away by God knows what.  Come summer, the scene will be a picture of pastoral heaven.

In the woods, the last lingering leaves were blown away, stripping the billowing cushions to lines of vertical grey trunks.  Young ash trees are particularly striking because of their smooth bark.  With low winter light, the structure and framework of trees can be seen and appreciated.

What happened to the River Kennet?

As an avid angler, I am drawn, hypnotically, to the sight or suggestion of water. A row of willows or alder trees may signify a ditch or a stream or river.  A group of willows may be merely a damp spot or a lake.  Each indication has to be explored.

Before Christmas, I visited the beautiful village of Manton near Marlborough.  From the Ordnance Survey map I knew the River Kennet ran through the village and having fished the river downstream at Kintbury and at Aldermarston, I was keen to see what the upper river looked like.

I was shocked by what I found.

I have read about the effect water abstraction has had on rivers in the south and have seen ‘winterbournes’ dry in the summer, but nothing prepared me for the sad sight of the river bed.  Not a single drop of water.  No rivulet running.  No water weeds. No insects.  No trout or minnows hovering in crystal clear water.  Just rocks and old bricks and a ‘private fishing’ left high, dry and irrelevant.  Scandalous.

The cause of the problem appears to be excessive abstraction from the underground aquifer that feeds the river.  Ultimately, poor and inefficient use of water can be to blame.

Who knows what the duration of the problem will be. There may be no permanent return to flowing water in this part of the Kennet and it will become a ‘Winterbourne’, flowing only after a winter of rain and disappearing again in summer.

Some solutions that we can do as individuals are anything to reduce water consumption.  In the garden we can collect and use rainwater, we can spread mulches over our soils to help the ground absorb water and reduce evaporation from soil in summer, we can use low water demand plants and lawns.  We should stop laying driveways that are impermeable.

There are campaigns to raise awareness:

 Go to http://www.riverkennet.org/threats_abstraction.php for more information

http://www.wildtrout.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=129&Itemid=185

Bristol Water has a number of good tips on how to save water:

http://www.bristolwater.co.uk/environment/waterSavingIntro.asp

The Guardian covered the issue in December:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/dec/18/river-kennet-dry-john-betjeman

Winter colour

Like many people this Christmas, we spent time on the roads, visiting relatives and friends. My wife and I share the driving, which gives me time to look at the landscape outside.   

One of the things that I love about this time of year, deep mid-winter, is that almost all of the old leaves are gone from the trees the hedges. The bones of the landscape are laid bare for all to see. On cloudy days, the colours of the woods and trees are muted to a range of browns, with shades purple from dormant buds or old berries.

Beneath the trees there are swathes of orange of dead bracken tops. Occasionally, there is a real splash of colour from fallen apples, collected at the base of trees. On our journey, we saw yellow piles of wild apples in the countryside, but also red apples in built up areas.

All disappear by spring, eaten and covered up by grass and vegetation.

Last days of Autumn in the Wye Valley

Last weekend I was lucky enough to spend a day fishing on the River Wye, between Hay and Hereford.  Formerly the preserve of the very wealthy, fishing on the Wye and Usk is now accessible to ordinary folk, thanks to the Wye and Usk Foundation, a charity committed to improving water habitats for wildlife and anglers. For a daily fee typically between £15 and £20, it is possible to fish for a day on this beautiful river. 

Every year, I visit two or three times, as a treat, because the fishing can be fantastic and the landscape is always exceptional.  

One of the characteristics of the River Wye are structures built for salmon fishing in the sport’s heyday one hundred or more years ago.  All along the river, from Builith to below Monmouth there are man made croyes or groynes, built into the river to create both resting pools for salmon and dry places underfoot for fishing from. On the river bank there are fisherman’s huts, ranging from little shelters just big enough for a bench to summer houses complete with veranda overlooking favourite fishing pools.  All of these features are set in the landscape of sporting estates, replete with ‘Private Fishing’ signs, shelter belts for pheasants, gothic mansions and carriage tracks leading to the river.

Despite the manmade interventions, the River Wye and its sister the Usk, remain wild rivers, capable of turning into torrents within hours.  Once in flood both rivers can change the landscape rapidly.  At Maesllwch, the River Wye has in recent years formed a new ox bow lake, which is now silting up.  Cast adrift from the river is a substantial fishing hut, now half a kilometre away from running water.  Salmon no longer rest in the pool below the hut, but I sometimes imagine that an ancient retired colonel might still use the hut, casting with rheumatic eyes to fish in the stagnant pool below.  Earlier this Autumn I fished on the Usk from a massive fishing concrete pier that now slopes alarmingly into the river.  The hole beneath the concrete is now a favourite holding point for salmon. Originally built for making fly fishing easier, the subsiding pier is now fishable only by a carefully placed worm.

On the beauty of brambles

Earlier this week we were appraising a site in Ascot, Berkshire.   The colour of the beech and maple trees was predictably magnificent.

But what captured my attention more was the range of colour on the brambles, ranging from greens, browns, purple, red, orange yellow and black.  The colours are absolutely stunning, if you take the time to look closely at the humble plant. I take inspiration from such plants for colours for outdoor furniture and fencing and have installed orange and purple benches into rural landscapes with success.