Many varieties of this beautiful species, known as Himalayan cranesbill or lilac cranesbill, are a common feature of traditional cottage gardens here in the UK. As the name suggests, the plant is native to moist alpine regions surrounding the Himalayas, and being quite hardy it has no issues in colonising the edge of meadows and woodland, although it’s generally never encountered far from the gardens where it would have escaped from.
At times it’s easy to overlook ornamental, non-native plants, as there is generally little familiarity with what other use they could have, but 1) I couldn’t have skipped a blue flower, I like them too much, 2) no recorded practical use in the history of the countries where the plant has been introduced doesn’t necessarily mean the plant is useless. And I was right to do some research, because I found an interesting ethno-botany paper on Geraniums in India, and learnt the root of G. himalayense has traditionally been used to treat stomach ache and produces a good black dye.
Aside from this, the plant flowers profusely and for a long period, and is good at attracting wildlife. Around October, at the end of its flowering season, the foliage takes beautiful fiery red shades, prolonging its interesting features in the garden.
This interesting evergreen flowering shrub is known as rosemary grevillea, after the Mediterranean culinary herb (Rosmarinus officinalis) due to the similar appearance of their almost needle-shaped and short linear leaves, but the vague morphological similarities between the two species end here. Native to south-eastern Australia, this shrub belongs to a family of plants characterised by very peculiar floral and fruiting structures, taken to the extreme by members like the cone bush (Leucadendron gandogeri), whose fruit closely resembles that of a conifer. The odd, curvy flowers buds of this grevillea -which open into a burst of protruding styles, making the inflorescence look like a pincushion- are just as interesting though, and with their seedpods are quite important as a source of food for wildlife in its native area.
It is often found on very well-draining, sandy or rocky soils in semi-arid areas, but it is hardy to -10
ºC and with protection and full sun exposure it can be grown in more temperate parts of the world. In the photos above you can see it blooming under glass in the Oceania section of the Kibble Palace at Glasgow Botanic Gardens, but I guess it could be grown outdoors if the right measures are taken, however I doubt it would grow at its best.
@kihaku-gato I have actually repotted it and this second year indoors it seems to be doing much better, well ahead of outdoor ones! I’m expecting many more flower heads 😉
The fact it’s thriving indoors over it’s previous outdoor life
My Hylotelephium has finally flowered and I’m so happy because it really reminds me of home. I’m not sure about the exact species, it might even be an hybrid, but I collected a few tiny offsets last December in my aunt’s garden in Milan, gave them a very small pot and just waited to see what would happen. When I used to live with my family I had a large one which looked exactly the same growing on the terrace in a massive pot, so I was unsure whether it would do well indoors, here in Scotland, and being so confined, but it did and I’m planning to re-pot it in due time to give it more space.
Formerly placed within the genus Sedum, it isn’t just your average pretty succulent: both the leaves and the root are edible and it has being used as a medicinal plant, most commonly to treat wounds, ulcers and bruises. On this note, I remember an episode from when me and my cousin were both eleven or twelve. She had fallen and got a huge, sore bruise on her arm. Being the kid I was, I met her the following day bringing mashed Hylotelephium leaves mixed with honey and olive oil and convinced her to let me spread the viscid, green mixture on her arm. At least it didn’t smell bad. The bruise turned green-yellow a lot quicker than we expected, so it seemed to be healing faster and I was happy to believe it was my doing, but who knows!
In the past few weeks I found a couple of clumps of giant bellflower plants in bloom growing along the river, so I kept an eye to find more and eventually collect seeds. They are large and showy, hard to miss, but I found no more. This perennial is native to Europe and Western Asia and often found growing in moist woodland in partial shade or near water. It is often grown in rustic cottage gardens as an ornamental too, and in that case a semi-shaded position is ideal as full sun can ruin the colour of the flowers. Similarly to the related C. rotundifolia, the harebell, its young leaves are edible and rich in vitamin C, but it is now seldom used as an edible or medicinal plant.
I feel like it’s been a really good while since I’ve had a chance to write about native wildflowers while they are in bloom, but the other day I finally went for a short walk and found one of the heralds generally announcing the end of winter- it’s already spring, but we’re expecting more snow and it’s still pretty cold here in central Scotland. Coltsfoot is a well known hardy perennial native to Europe, the Mediterranean and parts of Asia, generally found in a wide range of conditions and at different altitudes and easily recognisable due to the bright yellow flower heads typical of its family and quite similar to dandelions (Taraxacum officinale). The flower stalks usually push through the moist soil during the first few warmer days of the year, well before the large cordate leaves, so the plant was known as filius ante patrem (the son before the father) with a Latin periphrasis in medieval Italy. Once the leaves are out, colonies of the plant work well as an efficient groundcover, but it tends to spread around freely so, if desired, it might work better in a container, buried or not.
One of the first plants I learnt to identify as a six-year-old thanks to that old medicinal plants book I mentioned here and there, it has a really long history of traditional use. Interestingly, it isn’t flagged in the book as potentially dangerous or toxic like others, but that’s because in the 70s they just didn’t know yet. Although it is reportedly even edible as the cooking process reduces its toxicity, I think we should just leave coltsfoot alone and let it tell us when spring is coming (hopefully).
Currently in bloom, this evergreen shrub native to sunny coastal areas of Korea and Japan is generally known as yeddo hawthorn, but is more closely related to loquat (Eriobotrya) than to the genus Crataegus, and able to hybridise with it. Although the leathery and glossy leaves don’t scream Rosaceae, the flower structure is pretty typical of the family and the blooms are usually white and honey scented, very attractive to pollinators like those of the common hawthorn it is colloquially named after. Just as important to wildlife are the small fruits produced through summer, dark purple when ripe in autumn and made up of a thin layer of flesh over a relatively large seed. The seeds are edible and can be turned to flour, but they are considered a famine food in the plant’s native area so they are far from a common food item.
I photographed this plant in a heated glasshouse, but it can be hardy to -15°C, enough to be grown outdoors if positioned in a warm, sheltered area, as long as it is provided with a loamy, well-draining soil, consistent moisture and plenty of care.
I have always felt weird about discarding fruit seeds with rubbish, and often simply tossed them in one of the pots on the large balcony I enjoyed when I was living with my family near Milan. That’s how, at some point in 2012, a loquat seed began sprouting and got me far too excited! I absolutely love loquats and I used to be lucky enough to be giften a ton of them each year by my uncle, who has a tree in his garden, or by my neighbours. The sapling grew quickly and strong, becoming a family favourite nicknamed ‘Mr Loquat’, but went also through a lot as the balcony is quite exposed to strong winds, not ideal with sail-like leaves, and was injured by sudden summer hail at least a couple of times. Still, it kept shooting straight up, I fed it, re-potted it, and it kept growing larger. By the time I was about to move to Scotland in 2014, it had grown too tall to be sheltered by the balcony walls, so I gifted it to my best friend, who kept it in a corner of her parents’ garden for a while and they eventually planted it in a border. It might not have much room there, but I know they didn’t have much space left for a tree, and it still kept growing and branching out. I’ll ask for a better quality and up to date photo, as I’ve not seen one in over a year!
-Small digression on E. japonica: native to China and widespread, especially through cultivation, in multiple parts of the world. The interesting thing is most of the countries involved with larger production grow it to cover national consumption, while Italy is one of the largest importers. Although grown in Sicily to supply part of the country’s demand, the tree is also often present in gardens, as it’s valued for its characteristic appearance and fruit yield. I wrote about how older people from my hometown have created a network of vegetable gardens within the urban landscape, and loquat, along with Laurus nobilis, Vitis vinifera, Punica granatum and Ficus carica are the most common trees associated with them.
Today my best friend sent me a photo update of my six years old loquat! I’m so happy to see my beloved tree is still doing well three and a half years after I had to leave it! It looks like it hasn’t grown much in height, but it’s getting bushier, which is ideal for fruit picking. Hopefully it will soon start flowering and fruiting too, I would love to get seeds from it on day to grow a new generation of loquats wherever I will be!
A South Africa native Aloeat Glasgow Botanic Gardensnamedafter the large teeth on the leaf margin. The growth habit assumed here in Scotland under glass shows the effect of reduced light exposure compared to its habitat, with elongated leaves and an overall not-so-compact look. Part of a number of species within the genus sporting lighter spots, altogether, A. grandidentata looks rather similar to A. maculata, named after this feature, at least in my limited experience observing Aloes.
Known as Wild teasel, I’ve found three of these plants growing along the river Clyde walkway in Glasgow. It’s hard to miss due to the large size and the peculiar inflorescence, although I believed they flowered in rings around the central axis of the head, but the photo I took shows something quite different!
Its appearance is not the only interesting feature though, as what can happen within the ‘cups’ formed by the opposite sessile leaves is far more interesting, at least in my opinion.
A study conducted in London in 2010 has provided evidence that this plant benefits from the invertebrates which die and decompose in the above mentioned cups. This basically means that it is partially carnivorous, or protocarnivorous, as it doesn’t produce its own digestive enzymes. Although it might be a bit surprising, hundreds of plants that we wouldn’t suspect actually show the same characteristics of partial carnivory, and I find it so interesting, maybe because it looks like there’s still a lot to learn about these mechanisms.
D. fullonum Sativus, a cultivar of the wild teasel, has also been historically important and widely used in the processing of wool, as the name suggests. This is reflected in the Italian name of the plant, Cardo dei lanaioli, which translates as ‘Woolman’s thistle’, although it isn’t a true thistle like the species within the Asteraceae.
This year the same colony is much bigger, both in number and in the size of its numerous individuals so I could take photos of the cups, the primitive pitfalls formed by the leaves on mature plants. They were the size of cereal bowls and who knows if the mush at the bottom was part-invertebrate!
Closing the circle with this biennial species I followed closely for its two years of life. The persistent seed heads of the dead plants keep rocking in the wind, while the seeds have already been overwintering at their feet, ready to start another cycle. I collected some last year when they were ready, and will do again if I’m around when the next generation is mature enough.
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