THERE is a long history of naming things after monarchs. The present Queen, who has been unfailingly in post since before even I was born, is thus blessed with an inordinately long list of ships, buildings, mountain ranges, islands, horse races, railway engines, national parks and, of course, plants bearing her name (page 194). It must be difficult to look equally pleased at each of these offerings, but you can be sure that friendly politeness will never have failed on such an occasion.
In case it springs to your mind to add to this list, you should know that you can't simply stick Her Majesty's name on something and be done. There is, as one would expect, an established procedure by which a committee of worthies vets each application to make sure nothing unsuitable slips through the net. I know of only one rogue incident, in which the Filipino former world boxing champion Manny Pacquiao named his daughter Queen Elizabeth without permission. I feel sure his error was made in a spontaneous burst of royal enthusiasm, so I doubt if the committee will take too dim a view of his action.
The tradition of naming plants after monarchs has brought us many familiar favourites. Queen Victoria reigned over us for 63 years and is recalled by the rhubarb cultivar 'Victoria', bred by Joseph Myatt in 1837, the year of her accession. It still flourishes today. You will be pleased to learn that the enterprising Myatt presented another rhubarb called 'Prince Albert' to the public as quickly as 1840. It, too, is still widely available. Probably the best-known flower to bear the old Queen's name is the red-flowered perennial Lobelia 'Queen Victoria', remarkably vigorous for such a long-established plant.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة May 25, 2022 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة May 25, 2022 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning