They lay where they fell, spine cracked wood, snatched from their roots yet lying on the ground which once fed them. Separated logs, twigs, branches, brushed aside and hidden by the lofty trees which remain swishing their still-leaved branches, a little too haughtily. Mourning or with relief? The fate is not yet theirs. Allowing the wind to jet-stream through the whisper of greens and faded yellows turning gold and red.
The dying of autumn leaves flutter down like confetti at a wedding where the bride and groom have long since departed. Soon they will be carpets strewn by nature over the dead, hiding what has been lost, grave clothes which will also fade and die.
The Cycle of life and death leaves behind a part of nature that will rot and crumble its way into the earth that bore them, enlivened and sustained them.
Here, in the stillness of the forest, Dying and death, so natural here in the grove, is never Natures final answer. The fallen wood brings hope of life for others. Quiet movement announces that the tenants of the Forest, are seeking shelter from the coming tendrils of frosty winter. They creep into the open veins of broken wood – insects, over-wintering spiders, slugs and beetles already yawning, awaiting hibernation. Late-skipping squirrels pause to rest on upturned benches made by the forest debris, wondering where they buried their winter food. Woodland creatures; birds, rabbits and foxes; bats, worms burrow deeply, nesting bees, beetles and woodlice, millipedes, even snakes, all gather as Nature holds out a welcome to the Winter hotel. So many of nature’s guests book their wintry yet warm rooms, each finding peace and safety and food according to need and station. Rain falls onto wood opening up pools of refreshment in the crevices or intertwine of branches, as fungi steadies itself for growth and roots give up the water so necessary for life.
In Nature nothing is wasted. Nothing is left over, abandoned, discarded. All are part of the creative cycle of life to which we all belong. Only God our Creator is eternally whole and holds everything in love according to His Divine Plan.
Mr G. October 12th 2024
For more information about the importance of dead wood see the presentation under ‘Deadwood’ on the Woodland Trust site.
Hatfield Forest is under the care of the National Trust.
Candelabra Primulas, splashes of joyful colour. Photographed by my friend Gill Henwood, in the Lake District. ~ known to Gill’s grandsons as ‘rainbow flowers ~
Gertrude Jekyll Painting with flowers
The English National Trust announced last week that it had acquired Munstead Wood, the home of pioneering garden designer and horticulturalist, Gertrude Jekyll (pronounced Gee-Kil). Near Godalming in Surrey, Munstead Wood was her home until her death in 1932. The Trust, with help from the government, is beginning the task of restoring this gem of a garden and will open it to the public, hopefully, next year. Gertrude moved into the house in the 1890’s, first creating the 11 acre garden and then, with her friend and architect, Edward Lutyens’ help, renovating and developing the house. The garden became the prototype of the Modern English Garden.From here she bred many new plants and ran a garden centre. The National Trust’s, Andy Jasper said that “She became one of the most influential garden designers and transformed horticultural practice, collecting plants in Britain and Europe and introducing at least 30 new varieties into British gardens.”
She was born in November 1843 and developed skills as an horticulturalist, garden designer, craftswoman, photographer, writer and artist.She created over 400 gardens in the UK, Europe and the USA and was regarded as a prime influencer in gardening design. Her partnership with Edward Lutyens was especially fruitful. Both were devotees of the Arts & Crafts movement and her designs were influenced by a subtle artistic approach to garden creation. She is particularly known for the promotion of radiant colour and what is known as the brush-like strokes of her planting. This drew inspiration also from the art movement Impressionism and by the paintings of J M W Turner whom she greatly admired. So early in her studies she became interested in the creative art of planting gardens in innovative colour schemes based on ensuring different parts of the garden evolved colourfully during the differing seasons of the year. Her book, Colour Schemes for the Flower Garden, first published in 1914, (many editions until 1988) offers advice on the use of colour which keeps the garden interesting throughout the year. She believed very firmly that the most eye-catching part of a garden plant is its flower and “the most captivating element of a bloom is its colour.”
She pointed out in her book that “to plant and maintain a flower border, with a good scheme for colour, is by no means an easy thing that is commonly supposed.” Her advice was worked out through painstaking planning and in cultivating her own garden. She accepted that there are often failures, but many great successes that make it all worthwhile. She did not write just about big gardens like her own, which needed a team of gardeners. She said that the size of a garden has very little to do with its merit. “It is the size of the owner’s heart and brain and goodwill that will make the garden either delightful or dull.” Her own garden reflected a love of art which was paramount and it became a kind of outdoor studio. “My garden is my workshop, my private study and place of rest.” It was, for her, a private healing place, a palette of colour which reflected her deep love of painting. In the latter part of her life, she suffered from failing sight which made painting more difficult. Her garden became a consolation.
Her artistry, craftsmanship, garden design and planting schemes combined with her devotion to brightness and joy of colour were, according to Richard Bisgrove, writer of the 1988 preface of Colour Schemes, “humble responses to the Grand Design, works of praise from a gardener who would have liked much more but was serenely satisfied and thankful for what she had.” Perhaps that is important for any gardener though I am a great believer that there is always room for one more!
Sometimes it isn’t a design of ours, and many gardeners (if not all) are aware that Nature has its own rules and what can bring the greatest joy is the self-seeded plant which pops up in the ‘wrong’ place or a group of flowers which bloom where you least expect it, even in the midst of your own carefully crafted design. Maybe it is in those moments that you can be led to recognize that gardening is always a partnership with Nature. . (I write as one of the founding and possibly, only, member of the Dandelion Appreciation Society!)
That can remind some of us that this is a deeper partnership with, our creator God . I have heard many times the saying (the song?) that we are ‘closer to God in a garden than anywhere else on God’s earth.” It can feel a bit twee or trite but it is a truth. People like Gertrude Jekyll are pioneers in bring art and craft together, using skill and understanding in planting and design and using an artist’s palette to sweep colour across the soil. They also help us to create an outdoor room in which we can meet with God and also with friends in a quiet and restful way or which can be such a haven of peace that we are re-made by beauty and a sense of sharing in an act of love. In this we are at-one with the earth yet being lifted towards heaven.
Gertrude Jekyll Rose (David Austin) widely available
The photos are from Gill Henwood’s garden in the Lake District which I thought, with an occasional reflection, might help to cheer us towards Spring.
First, the heading of this post needs a slight explanation. There are a number of collective names for snowdrops but my favourite is a ‘Nod’ of snowdrops with their nodding white heads tinged with green. I suppose if you had bell-ringing leanings you might want to take up the Candlemass Bells theme and call them a ‘Peal’ of Snowbells. Other collective nouns are a drift; a carpet; a blanket; and even, most appropriately right now, a ‘hope’
In his poem ‘to a Snowdrop’, William Wordsworth called them ‘Chaste’.
Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend.
the poem ends:
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
Mary Robinson, in her 1797 novel, Walsingham’ wrote:
The Snowdrop, Winter’stimid child awakes to life bedewl’d with tears
Tennyson called the snowdrop February’s Fair maid to which he wishes, many,many welcomes.
The National Trust website for its property at Polesden Lacey heads up its site by calling the Snowdrop a ‘Ray of Winter Sunshine’.
The Trust reminds us that as we get ready to leave winter behind, “there are fewer perfect signs of Spring regrowth and regeneration to come than the humble snowdrop, one of the earliest flowers in the garden. You have to admire the tenacity of their delicate nodding heads as they force their way above ground and seize their moment in the winter light, ready to delight and enchant anyone who seeks them out.”
This snowdrop seems to be a variety of Galanthus Elwesii that Cambo gardens near Fife nicknamed ‘Grumpy’ I wonder what you might call it?This is a double scented snowdrop who is rather shy and closes up at night.Some would call this a ‘carpet’ but I prefer ‘a serial nodding’
Thanks to Gill for her photographs and her clear devotion to Galianthus! (all 23 species!)
for more information about the Snowdrop visit the RHS (Royal Horticultural Society Lindley Library blog. The article by Gill Briggs (RHS staff), quoting Mary Robinson, refers to the Snowdrop as Winter’s Timid Child.’ I’m not sure I agree. I think I prefer to agree with Hans Christian Andersen in his story of the Snowdrop. He calls her ‘Brave’. She’s that and more!
(See the delightful BBC YouTube version of the story)
Mr G's Ponderings 