Towering plane trees in Hyde Park.
JOHN EVELYN, whose Sylva (published in 1664) was the original sounding of the bugle to plant more trees, wasn’t a fan of the sycamore. He wanted the species, with its ‘contaminating’ leaf litter, ‘banished from all curious gardens and avenues’. So the Deptford guru would not have been impressed to hear that, in the 21st century, the sycamore is the most numerous tree type in London. Numerous, but still not loved. There’s not a single one in the list of 61 specimens awarded Great Tree status by the former Countryside Commission and the charity Trees for Cities, after nomination by the city’s inhabitants.
Indeed, the streets are top heavy with London planes—a hybrid of American sycamore and Oriental plane. In central London, they are as much a part of the cityscape as red buses and black taxis. They stand like sentinels along the main thoroughfares and in parks and squares. London planes are pollution resistant and able to withstand compacted and covered soil. In the winter, you can identify them by the spherical catkins that hang down on long stems. When the Victorians laid out the Embankment between Westminster and Blackfriars in the 1860s, they planted them at regular intervals all down the street, the first formal example of lining a London road with trees. The Embankment is too clogged with traffic and a sense of rush to be beautiful, but imagine it without those tall and stately planes.
Bu hikaye Country Life UK dergisinin April 01, 2020 sayısından alınmıştır.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Giriş Yap
Bu hikaye Country Life UK dergisinin April 01, 2020 sayısından alınmıştır.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Giriş Yap
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.