Imagine you woke up one morning and looked out of the window to discover that, as if in a tale by the Brothers Grimm, all the plants of foreign origin in the garden had mysteriously vanished overnight. An inevitable legacy of the nightmare might well be the realization that so many of our familiar friends come from quite unexpected places. How could that be and how did they get here?
It is a curiosity of our climate, oft remarked upon by visitors from overseas, that so many exotic plants are quietly prepared to grow in our gardens without looking as if they would rather be at home. That irritating combination of changeable weather, rain throughout the year, and the subtle influence of the Gulf Stream makes this a happy home for plants from climates as various as Argentina and Siberia, growing side by side in our gardens as if that were perfectly normal. We have, at least for now, a Goldilocks climate.
A cursory walk round my own garden to see what came from where was a sobering experience even for me. The group of small-leaved hebe species politely gathered round the front door, for instance, all come from New Zealand, the only home of that genus. My favorite is Hebe rakaiensis, introduced by earnest botanists in the late 19th century. If I wanted to see it in its native clime, an ideal place to do so would be the lovely botanic garden at Christchurch on the South Island (www.ccc.govt.nz). Reports of its utter destruction by the famous earthquakes are grossly exaggerated, thankfully.
Bu hikaye Country Life UK dergisinin June 23, 2021 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 June 23, 2021 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.
