Give Seeds this Christmas ...

They don't know it yet, but my family will be getting something slightly different in their stockings this Christmas. It might be seeds, or four saplings. It could be a few chickens, or 365 eggs. Maybe schoolbooks or a health check -up ...

No - my family don't need 365 eggs, or health check-ups for Christmas. The gift isn't really for them. But in their name I'll be donating to a charity who will give the seeds, or the chickens, or the health check-up, to someone who does.

Expensive? No. There's a huge range of gifts for less than €15 - that's about US$22.50 or £13.50 at the current exchange rate. And some are only half that price.

Why am I giving them? Well, one reason is that I'm sick of trawling the shops for presents for people who already have everything they need. Don't worry - they'll have other presents, and if they've asked for anything special I'm sure Santa will oblige (just in case they're reading this and panicking ...). But often at Christmas I feel that I'm looking for presents to buy for the sake of it. Yes, a surprise is always nice, and during the year I note down anything that occurs to me that might suit one or other of them - but sometimes it's just consumerism for the sake of it. And I'm fed up with it.

And the other reason - well, just the ethical one. Most of us do have all we need even if we're not quite as rich as Bill Gates. Many people don't. Bill Gates can make a difference all on his own. The rest of us can't - but just imagine if every blogger in the world who could afford it bought a charity gift costing somewhere between $1 and $15 this Christmas. Together we would make a difference - at least to the lives of a significant number of individuals.

Choose the cause you prefer - that doesn't matter. It could be hunger, education, climate change, animal rescue, health, education - or a wealth of other issues. There's so much to change in the world that, sadly, whatever most angers you is catered for. Here are a few possibilities, all under the €15 limit - but there are hundreds of others, obviously including gifts which are more expensive if you can afford more. Check out the sites for yourself.

Oxfam is my favourite for easily affordable gifts. You can buy 5 bags of seeds to aid self sufficiency for a third world family for £10, give a chicken for £11, or provide safe water for 10 people for £9. Then there are school supplies for £7, mosquito nets for £11 and many, many more. If you want to pay more, how about planting an allotment for £24?

Or over at Save the Children ,for £7 you can pay for a week's high protein food for a malnourished child. Or you could buy a child a breakfast egg per day for a year for £14, or a pair of shoes for £10.

Nothing grabs you yet? Then try the shop of the related sites The Hunger Site, The Rainforest Site, The Breast Cancer Site, the Child Health Site, the Literacy Site and The Animal Rescue Site. There for $15 you can help remove landmines in Mozambique, care for a street animal in India or plant a vegetable garden in Rwanda.

These are just examples. The shops of all the sites include many, many more gifts in all price ranges. So if there's someone that you just can't think of a present for - well, perhaps they don't really need anything. But maybe someone else does.

Where in the world is Bilbo? Milan

Now, if you'd told me a year ago that there would be a gnome on my balcony, I'd probably have laughed at you. But that was before I came across Bilbo.

Because Bilbo is no ordinary garden gnome. Bilbo is an intrepid explorer who has ben working his way around the world since April, when he left his family blog - Trials and Tribulations of a Southern Gardener - to go visiting. He's already visited blogs in eight different states in the US, Canada, Ireland and three different places in England. He's got some great stories - he's especially proud of having been to Buckingham Palace to have tea in the Queen's own café when he visited Matron. He's a bit foggy about some of the details - I can't quite work out whether Her Majesty was behind the tea urn at the time or serving the scones ...

And now he's here in Milan. He'd come all the way from Alberquerque, where he'd been to see Briana at I Can't Decide. By the time he arrived I was starting to get seriously worried. He'd been travelling for over three weeks, and only just made it in time. His sandwiches had run out the day before, and I suspect he'd been rationing them for the last week or so. He looked a bit pale and thin, so - being in Italy - a big plate of pasta was clearly called for. But after tucking into his spaghetti alla carbonara, he perked up considerably and started entertaining us with the tales of his travels.

We'd decided to let him rest for the first day, but he's a lively little chap and not the type to stay still for long. So he'd soon got us all playing hide and seek on the balcony. He won of course because he could slip into so many spaces. It took me ages to find him when he hid in my chrysanthemums ...

Then the next day we started on some serious sightseeing. Bilbo was very impressed with Milan's cathedral ...

.. and he also enjoyed Piazza della Scala. I think he was less bothered about the Opera House (top photo) though, than the giant snails we found in the square.

Bilbo will be here for another few days, but I know he's already anxious to move on. Where will he go next? He'd like to visit all your blogs and is just waiting for an invitation. I know that he'd like to visit other countries in Europe, but he also keeps talking about all the continents he's not yet seen. And then when he talks about the places has has been to he gets terribly nostalgic and says how much he'd like to go back. So wherever you are, I know he'd like to visit you.

Now, you may be wondering if it's safe for such a little chap to be gadding about the world on his own. Don't worry - his adopted Mum, Dirt Princess, has set up some strict rules and regulations to keep him safe. Turn to the Comments below and you'll see them posted there. But if you would like to have Bilbo to stay, all you need to do is leave a comment of your own and in a couple of days he'll choose where he wants to go next. The next stay will probably be quite special. If it takes as long for him to get from here to you as it did from Briana to me, then you might well be hosting him for Christmas ...

aka Tradescantia

Half way through the week I got a message from Mr Subjunctive, over at Plants are the Strangest People. Had I any idea, he asked, why in the past few days he had had literally hundreds of hits from Italy - all for people searching for the plant Tradescantia pallida (the purple-leaved plant in the photo above). Well no, quite honestly I hadn't - but after a bit of research I managed to track it down.

A couple of days previously, the most widely read Italian newsaper - Il Corriere della Sera - (and I imagine much of the rest of the Italian press too) had published an article quoting some US research. The researchers placed T. pallida at the top of a list of the five houseplants most effective at absorbing pollutants from the atmosphere. And clearly the whole of Italy had decided it was a must-have. I spent the rest of the week imagining the hordes which would be camping outside the garden centres all night, desperate to get hold of the last puny specimen.

Tradescantia is a plant which confused me for years. I knew it even in my pre-gardening years, because Dad had it growing in the garden. It had a little purple flower and leaves a bit like those of a daylily (not that I knew what those were then). But then I heard the name being given to a houseplant with green and white stripey leaves. Oh - so that was tradescantia. Perhaps Dad got it wrong.

Then I started gardening and bought myself some gardening books. There was my stripey plant - Zebrina pendula, common name : the inch plant. Problem resolved. Dad was right all along.

But wait a moment - look at the entry for Tradescantia. It describes a species called Tradescantia fluminensis, and there's a photo. But that's a plant I'd had on the balcony for a couple of years without knowing what it was. I'd ended up ripping it out because it made such a nuisance of itself, invading the whole container and crowding out the other plants. There it is in the photo below, still under control. It's the plant in the forefront just in front of my antirrhinums. So that's Tradescantia??? What else does the book say ? Common name - the inch plant.

At this point, boy was I confused. All I can say is that I'm glad I hadn't also come across Setcreasea pallida, which Mr Subjunctive pointed out. That's it in the top photo. And yes, I know what I said before ...

I'll cut a long story and several hours of research short. It's another case of what I talked about before in the post On the naming of plants (and yes, I know that post is starting to obsess me. I promise not to mention it for at least another month.) The taxonomists keep changing their minds.

They're now all seen as different species of the same genus - tradescantia. There are 71 species in the genus altogether, many of which look nothing like each other - though the flowers tend to give the game away. Here, from the top, the photos show tradescantia pallida, tradescantia ohiensis, tradescantia zebrina, and tradescantia fluminensis - I think.

I mean, I did the research yesterday. They've probably all changed their names again by now.

However, whatever you call it, it seems that T. pallida is a good thing to have around. But then so are the other four on the list - and all the other plants whose anti-pollution effect people have been talking about for years. What are they and what do they do? I'll save that for another post....


Acknowledgements ...

Huge thanks to the photographers who made the following two photos available under Creative Commons License on www.flickr.com :

Tradescantia ohiensis by dmills

Tradescantia Zebrina by abbamouse

... and more.

If you want to know more about Tradescantia pallida and Tradescantia zebrina, click on the links to see posts at Plants are the Strangest People. I couldn't better them so I'm not going to try. Go see for yourself.

Don't throw those chrysanthemums away - well, not yet anyway...

Chrysanthemums have to be THE plant of the late autumn. Just when everything else is dying off, they burst into flower and - depending on what type you've got and how they've been treated - will treat you to a mass of small blooms or wow you with a smaller number of much larger ones. Not to mention a range of colours from reddy brown through yellow to creamy white - and even pink and purple, colours which are less common here. And all the different petal shapes ...

Where does the name come from? In 1753 Karl Linnaeus, the Swedish botanist who first started to classify plants and animals logically, combined the Greek word chrysos, meaning gold, with anthemon, meaning flower. And despite attempts by recent taxonomists to change the plant's classification, the name has stuck.

In Italy the shops start to fill up with chrysanths in early October. Forget lilies, here chrysanthemums are the flower of the dead - the plant you take to the graves of your loved ones on November 1st. Buy them at the beginning of the month and they're cheap. By Hallowe'en the price has quadrupled.

Being the flower of the dead, it's not a flower that most people have on their balconies here. But I wouldn't be without mine. Especially my little yellow ones. I've had them for years and they go on and on and on ... If you've bought a pot of chrysanths for your balcony this year, don't even think of throwing them away after they've stopped flowering.

They do need a bit of care though. First of all, cut of the dead flower heads as soon as - well, as soon as they're dead. If you're in a fairly cold zone, they'll need covering. We have a Hardiness Zone 8 type climate - the temperature may drop well below freezing in January. Mine get moved back towards the walls of the house and covered in fleece. And don't overwater during the winter.

By March you'll notice that new shoots are starting to come up from near the base of the old plant. These are what you want for next autumn's blooms. Take them off the plant when they're about 2.5 ins long, remove the bottom two leaves and cut vertically across the stem just below the leaf joint. Dip the end in hormone rooting powder and pop them into some potting mix in a propagator to root. Keep them in a warm place.


Well, that's what the books say. But quite honestly I find it works just as well without the hormone rooting powder and with ordinary potting soil. And I don't usually bother with a propagator - quite often I'll put them straight into the pots where I want them to grow. But then, it can be quite warm here in March. But anyway, they're one of the easiest plants to root from cuttings that I know. You may lose a few this way (so take more than you expect to need), but most will be quite happy.

And then you can throw the old plant away. You could try keeping it, but the results aren't usually as good as the first year.

Once the cuttings have rooted, keep in mind that chrysanths like soil which is rich in organic matter and neither very acid nor very alkaline. You'll also need to decide whether or not to "stop" them in April. "Stopping" means pinching out the growing shoot of the plant to encourage it to put out side shoots. If you stop, you'll end up with a myriad of small flowers, If you don't, you'll get a tall stem and one, much larger flower. As you can see from the photos, I stop ...


I have a sneaking affection for these little yellow ones. Yes, I've tried others and I'm the first to admit that these aren't half as elegant as many of the larger ones . I've got some large white ones in bud which I hope will flower soon, and a couple of years ago I had some nice red-brown ones. But nothing does quite so well as these do. They don't seem to mind the heat we have all summer, they shrug off pest attacks, and don't complain at all when they're left to the hideous over-watering that my plant-sitters inflict on them when I'm away. I don't care if the neighbours do think I'm weird - my chrysanths are here to stay.

Quite possibly the ugliest plant I've ever seen...

I mentioned a few posts back that weeds aren't a particular problem when you balcony garden, but that things do sometimes float in on the wind and seed themselves in the containers. And sometimes they can be quite interesting plants - so when I saw this one sprouting at the beginning of the summer, I popped it into a pot to see what would develop.

What is it? No idea - some sort of succulent it seems. I was sure I'd never seen it before - it's not something I've noticed growing wild, but nor is it anything I've ever seen in a garden.

Well - not till a few days ago that is, when I was walking through the garden at the front of the house and found this, crawling its way up a lamp post ....

Quite possibly the ugliest plant I've ever seen.

How did it get there? That's not a plant that's been deliberated over in a condominium assembly for at least three hours and until blood has been spilled (mandatory for any decisions regarding the condominium). Someone has had the thing growing on their balcony and, in desperation, crept into the garden at dead of night and stuck it up the lamp post. Look how awkward it looks - that, I'm sure, is no natural climber.

To me, it looks as if it should be snaking its way insidiously across the ground. Did someone actually go out and buy it (worthy of a post on Great Gardening Mistakes of the Century) and thus infect my balcony, or did it float in on the wind to them too? I can imagine hundreds of the things spreading through the garden, choking the shrubs and the trees, and then reaching unstoppably for the buildings. We'll all wake up one morning murdered in our beds, tendrils sliding through the shutters and wound mercilessly around our throats.

Because I'm sure it's conscious and I don't think it's from this planet. Who said that intelligent life must be animal? This is something out of The Day of the Triffids or The War of the Worlds. It's here to take over, to wipe us out ...

And I'm growing one. No question that it's the same. Compare the close-up below with the photo of my little one in its pot. Should I kill mine now, bringing upon myself the certain wrath of its kin, or should I go on nurturing it, in the hope that when the time comes I'll be spared and kept on as some sort of servant? They'll need someone to bring the fertiliser, for heaven's sake.

The monster in the garden is already starting to evolve. Did the person who planted it there think he was rendering it harmless by tying it to a stake? He's only increased its rage, and sooner or later we're all going to pay. Look at those little bubble things on the tips of the "teeth" on the leaves. Spores which spread silently on the wind ...

Alert your Neighbourhood Watch. Write to your Congressperson. Notify NASA. But don't ever say I didn't warn you...

A sorry sight ...

I've always had pelargoniums on the balcony. Common as muck they may be, but in full bloom they're glorious. And with a bit of protection they will not only over-winter, and but also sometimes keep on flowering . If you were reading this blog a few years ago, you'll know that I had one container of salmon-pink zonal pelargoniums that went on for two and half years - in all that time, even in January when it was wrapped up in fleece, there wasn't a moment when it wasn't in bloom.

But each year it got progressively more difficult to keep them alive through the summer. And last year I lost the lot.

So this year I replaced them all. Zonals, ivy-leafed, regals .... Here they are in May this year...

And I've lost the lot again.

Why? Again if you've been reading regularly for a few years, you'll guess. It's this ...

Cacyreus Marshalli, or the Geranium Bronze Butterfly. It's always been a problem, but for the last couple of years it's been impossible to keep the plants alive.

A quick recap for those of you who aren't familiar with it. Native to S.Africa (as are pelargoniums), it was introduced to S. Europe about twenty years ago and has been spreading like wildfire ever since. It's been in Italy since 1996, and is now posing a severe threat to commercial pelargonium cultivation - apart from anything else, because people are starting to avoid buying the plants, knowing they won't survive.

Why does it do so much damage? The larvae of the butterfly don't feed on the leaves. They burrow right into the stems and eat the plant from the inside out, killing it. If you can spot the tell-tale holes you can sometimes cut off the affected part - but over the season you frequently end up cutting back the whole plant.

And go away for a few weeks, like I always have to in the summer (...have to? Only a gardener could feel like that about a holiday ) and you come back to this ...

What can be done about them? There don't seem to be many organic options. One of the studies recommends the "natural" insecticide Bacillus thuringiensis Kurstaki - but don't ask me where I'd get hold of it. (Wonder how many times longer than the bacteria the name is?) There is also an insect with the equally wonderful name of Macrolophus caliginosus Wagner, which feeds off the eggs and hatchling larvae - but ditto, and would it stay on the balcony anyway? Another source suggested companion planting. Highly aromatic plants like lavender, mint and thyme are supposed to discourage the butterfly. Well, I can try - but I have my doubts. By pure chance I did have mint growing fairly near the pelargoniums this year. Not close enough maybe ...

Other than that, it seems there are only two choices - swamp the plants with noxious chemicals, or give up on pelargoniums all together. Don't like the first, and don't want to do the second. But it seems the only other option is to invite yet another massacre ...

Useful Links

Lupi and Zucker, The butterfly cacyreus marshalli in Northern Italy and susceptibility of commercial cultivars of pelargonium.

Regione del Veneto, Il licenide dei gerani

Roll on November ...

This was the week that the temperature dropped 10°C overnight. Last Sunday I went to the garden centre wearing only a T-shirt (well, no - I had trousers on too, but you know what I mean...) Today I'm sitting at home with the heating on and I've still had to put on a long sleeved jumper (that's a sweater for anyone who lives west of County Kerry).

It started with two days of heavy winds. Wind is unusual in Milan, but very welcome - it blows away the pall of smog that usually envelops the city. And last week, the Foehn was blowing.

Now, I'm sure I've posted about the Foehn before - but I can't for the life of me find the post. Was it one I started and then deleted? Who knows. But apologies if you've read this before.

The Foehn is a wind which occurs around a mountain range. It has different names in different countries - the Helm wind in the UK, the Chinook in the US and Canada, the Bergwind in South Africa - and many, many more. Don't ask me to explain the details - it's something about the "different adiabatic lapse rates of moist and dry air." Yeah, well - perhaps that's why I deleted the post ...

It's a strong, gusty wind which in Milan usually brings down branches from trees and often the trees themselves. But it's a warm wind - when the Foehn blows the temperature usually rises.

So it was even more of a shock to wake up at five the next morning, freezing to death. The temperature had plummeted overnight, and the single blanket that we'd been using just wasn't enough any more.

The rest of the week has been a constant rush to catch up. Winter clothes have come out of the cupboards, plants have come in from the balcony (yes, don't worry - I'll get back to the plants in a minute), and on trips to the supermarket I'm no longer stocking up with salad but with beans, lentils, and other stuff for good hearty soups and casseroles.

The plants on the balcony don't like it any more than we do. The photos above are from ten days ago - the plumbago was still in full bloom, the sunflower was developing a good crop of seed heads and the petunias and marigolds were appreciating the cooler weather and looking better than they had in August. Now they're looking considerably shell shocked.

This is the sunflower today. I'll spare you the others - this is a family blog.

And ever the optimist in the garden, in the last few weeks, with temperatures around 20°C - that's 68°F - I was still doing some late sowing. Now with temperatures around 10°C/50°F, I suspect I was wasting my time.

But every season has its advantages and as one set of plants dies, another always takes over. Look at that photo of the sunflower again. See the chrysanths behind it? And see how many buds? Roll on November ...

When Pets Become Pests ...

It's not every day that a London bird makes the evening news on Italian TV. But the other night there was a short feature on the bird which is probably now the most frequently seen visitor in my London garden - the rose ringed parakeet.

I posted about them two years ago, the last time I was in London, talking about how they are increasing exponentially and the problems they are causing. This year they were even more in evidence. The population is now generally supposed to be about 30,000 with the RSPB predicting 50,000 by 2010 - all descendants of escaped pets (or if you believe some reports, of a flock which escaped from Shepperton Studios during the filming of the Bogart/Hepburn movie The African Queen. Whaat?! You mean that river was really the Thames??)

I always look forward to seeing them in the garden when I go back. They're great to watch : colourful and very funny. They're clowns who give a circus performance every time they fly in. But I can see why - and this is what got them onto the Italian news - they have now officially been listed as vermin. Which means that they can now legally be killed, under general license, by landowners who can show that they are damaging their property.

And they do cause damage, as my neighbour - who has four or five fruit trees in her garden knows. I doubt if she got a single item of fruit this year which didn't have a large lump taken out of it.

OK, maybe if they're in your garden you put up with it. I would, and my neighbour didn't seem particularly bothered. Even if she was, the new law certainly doesn't give householders carte blanche to start killing the birds. The general license list specifies particular reasons for which specific birds may be killed, including damage to crops, health and safety risks, and threats to other wildlife. Anyone killing a bird on the list without one of these reasons faces a £5,000 fine or a six-month prison sentence. For the ring-necked parakeets, one of the reasons accepted is crop damage. Fruit trees in the back garden may not count as "crops", but the birds are causing considerable problems for commercial fruit growers in Kent and other areas, and I can well understand that they might consider culling.

The second justification specified is because of the threat to other wildlife. The parakeets have also been accused of causing a vast reduction in the numbers of other species of birds. They nest in hollow trees and have simply moved into all the available space, leaving nothing for the other species. Controversy rages about how true this is, but something is clearly displacing the tree-nesters. I said two years ago that the woodpeckers and nuthatches seemed to have disappeared from the garden. But at that time the owls were still holding their own. This year there were none, for the first time ever since I was a child.

So the parakeets have joined pigeons, crows and magpies - the last two also clearly on the increase from the numbers I saw - on the list of official pests, together with a couple of other new additions, such as the Canada Goose - again regarded as a danger to crops, and also a public health and safety problem.

The London Wildlife Trust has opposed the placing of both birds on the list, while the RSPB has suggested that there is a need for more evidence of the impact the parakeets have outside urban areas. And amongst Londoners, opinion is divided. The parakeets were once called "the grey squirrel of the skies" - an apt description. Like the grey squirrels, they're a non-native species which has become dominant, displacing native species. And like the grey squirrel you either love them or you hate them.

Me? Well, I'm the one who feels guilty if she kills a few red spider mite, so you can imagine ... But as I said in a recent post, I love seeing grey squirrels in the garden - and I guess that goes for the variety from the skies too.

Explore some more ...

How do parakeets survive in the UK? BBC Website

Is it time to start culling parakeets? The Guardian

Britains's naturalised parrot now officially a pest The Independent

Statement on Monk and Ring-necked Parakeets Natural England

No open season on shooting parakeets, says RSPB Wandsworth Guardian

Are parakeets threatened with control? London Wildlife Trust

Weeds...

One of the advantages of balcony gardening is that you don't get weeds. Not having a garden means that, of necessity you're using bought - and sterilised - compost, and though the odd thing will float in on the wind, it's relatively rare. Tip the soil into your container, pop in your plants, and that's it for the season. So you get to be a bit ingenuous about weeds ...

One of the jobs I worked hardest on when I was in London in July and August was clearing and replanting the flowerbeds - I found them completely overgrown with grass and borage. I didn't even think of it as "weeding". The beds just had to be completely dug over and everything pulled out.

And then, I started planting. Bulbs galore went in, but I also scoured the local garden centres for special offers, so that I could get as much planted as possible on a budget that was rapidly being eaten up by the repairs that needed doing on the house.

So when I left at the end of August, the beds were looking - well, a bit bare, but I hoped the bulbs would take care of that. And there were new roses, pansies, lavender bushes and other things dotted around.

Two weeks later I was back. And walked into a sea of green - which certainly had nothing to do with the bulbs. The garden was covered with one particular weed, which try as I might I can't find the name of (?). I can't say I wasn't expecting it - but the speed with which it had sprung up was incredible. Plant seeds that you want to have in the garden, and after two weeks they're only just thinking of germinating. But these had just yelled Yippee! Bare soil and sprung up in their thousands. Helped along, of course, by a bit of grass and an entirely new crop of borage.

Luckily, they're a weed which is very easily dealt with. Grab a handful and pull, or hoe. They come out with no problem. So a few hours of hard work later, the beds were looking bare but pristine again. And even more luckily, they'd not had time to seed. I'm hoping that all the seeds that my August digging had brought to the surface had germinated immediately, so that I was able to get the lot in one fell swoop.

I can hear you laughing hysterically from here. No, I don't really believe it either. I'll be back in London in a few weeks time, and I'm sure I'll find the beds covered again. But if I get rid of that lot, and the next ones that come up are killed off by the winter weather, then maybe by next year things will be better. Please ...?

Berries

When I left England, there wasn't much in flower in the garden but it was full of berries. Red ones, orange ones, purple ones and white ones .... everywhere you turned there was a mass of colour. Folklore would have it that an abundance of berries in autumn heralds a hard winter, and if my garden is anything to go by, it's going to be a tough one ...

The purple ones were the elderberries. Strictly speaking these aren't in my garden, as the tree is actually in the park behind. But the branches have spread over my fence. In the spring the flowers must have been wonderful, and now there's a mass of berries. If I were there permanently, I'd have used them to make wine ... or a pie ... or a sauce. Just google elderberries recipe and see what comes up. I rather liked the look of this one from The Times Online.


Sadly, the elderberry tree is leaning on the fence so heavily that it's bringing the fence down, and I've had to ask the council to lop it. I did ask them to take away the minimum possible though ...


Then there are the snowberries. Snowberry is a scrubby little bush which has the extremely inflated name of Symphoricarpos albus - always sounds like something out of Harry Potter to me. Not a shrub I'd really recommend - invasive, and the leaves and small pink flowers are not desperately attractive. But the berries are nice in autumn. Mine self seeded years ago, and for years I toiled away trying to dig it up. But it always sprang straight back and in the end I gave up. However, it does have the virtue that it's just about the only thing which will grow in the shade of the cotoneaster tree.

Not sure what variety this is, and can't for the life of me remember what its flowers are like. Sadly, I've not seen the garden in spring for over twenty five years. But it's always covered in berries in the autumn.

There's another cotoneaster in the garden as well - cotoneaster horizontalis - a much smaller shrub, but if possible with even more berries.

Cotoneaster is a word I have a mental block about. I have to look it up every single time I want to talk about the plant. It's odd, because that it's not that I don't know what the plant itself is - I do. But the name that always comes to mind is pyrocantha, despite the fact that I know perfectly well that it's not. So that's what I tend to call it to myself : the not-pyrocantha plant.

I do have a real pyrocantha though as part of my front hedge, currently covered in yellowy-orange berries.

I curse it all summer when I have to cut the hedge - it's full of thorns which get through even the thickest gardening gloves. But the show in autumn makes it worthwhile.

So - if we are in for a hard winter, at least the birds will have something to eat. If you're trying to grow a wildlife garden, they're all plants to include. Different species feed off them all - though snowberries (which are poisonous to humans incidentally) are preferred by pheasants, grouse and other similar species. Not many of them in a London garden. But blackbirds are supposed to love the pyrocantha berries and the elderberries and cotoneaster seem generally popular. At the moment, with food abundant, they're being ignored. But once the fruit trees are bare, and there are fewer seeds and insects around, the situation will change. In particular, I suspect we'll soon be a favourite haunt of the rose-ringed parakeets. But more of them in another post...