Early March, after the winter that never was. And seemingly the spring ushered in on a weekly conveyor belt of ferocious Atlantic storms, periods of very high winds and very heavy rain with barely a day or two of calm between them: yes, it’s record-breaking time again (and not in a good way) …

So when the chance at last arose to get to the Garden, it was all looking a bit bedraggled and weatherbeaten, crushed carpets of Crocus, with the just the most recent emergees spearing through:

And water everywhere, soggy underfoot, with the reminders of the most recent rain glistening as quicksilver drops on Euphorbia leaves…

…and on the saw-toothed spectacle that is Melianthus. One of the most dramatic plants to photograph, I simply cannot ever pass this one by!

All the Aconites and many of the Snowdrops were over, so now we are into high spring, with showy blooms at every turn:

However, visual showiness is not everything. Certainly not from the point of view of the, admittedly few, insects. An occasional hoverfly or bumblebee was sipping at the Squills, but most of the insect activity, largely flies, was around the greenish flowers, often furnished with a strong scent in counterpoint to their ‘lack of colour’:

Of course, to suggest that green flowers lack colour is to denigrate that most underrated of hues. Flowers and foliage alike make spring shine with greens of all kind.

One group of plants merits its own mention at this time of year: the Hellebores. All from the same floral mould, apart from the frilly ‘Party Dress’ hybrids, but the infinite variation in ‘petal’ (actually, sepal) colour from white to green to pink to purple, plain or with spots or blotches or stripes is surely one of the wonders of a woodland garden spring.

As always the garden provided welcome respite from the tribulations of a stormy planet, an oasis of relative calm, made ever more restful by the sweet song of a Mistle Thrush serenading the spring.

‘An evergreen, marginal aquatic perennial forming a clump of long-stalked, erect, narrowly ovate leaves to 40cm in length, covered with white powder, and slender stems bearing panicles of purple flowers 2cm across’. This, from the Royal Horticultural Society, neatly sums up the rather statuesque plant that we encountered in Beth Chatto’s garden last summer: Thalia dealbata.

As per usual, when in gardens we seek out insects to photograph and were immediately aware that this plant was covered in SO many pollinators. But dead pollinators. On closer examination, each flowerhead was actually riddled with corpses – hoverflies, lacewings, bees, wasps and blow flies, amongst others – a glistening mortuary for those valuable garden assistants, pollinators and predators alike, all stuck headfirst into the mouths of their nemesis.

The scale of the carnage was, quite simply, shocking. Some, still alive, like this Honeybee we managed to release, but most were dead. Lost to the world.

Reference to the internet shows this is a recognised phenomenon. The plant has no reason to kill its visitors – it doesn’t digest them like a truly carnivorous species: it seems that the flowers have an elastic style, used in explosive pollination which can and does trap insects.

In its native central American/southeastern USA range it is normally pollinated by large and powerful Carpenter Bees, capable of extricating themselves from the flower’s fatal embrace. Anything smaller is trapped and starves, mere collateral damage, cannon fodder in the battle for life.

But at times of an Extinction Crisis, that is one pressure our array of pollinators, necessary not just for the plant’s but for our species’ continued existence, can do without, dozens of pollinator lives being extinguished unnecessarily for each flowerhead. We raised our concerns with the Beth Chatto gardeners, and they promised to investigate, perhaps to remove the spikes of (to our eyes, rather unlovely – they often don’t seem to open fully) flowers, leaving only the stately leaves to give emergent architecture to the water margins.

And to their credit, the Beth Chatto online sales catalogue does at least draw attention to this antisocial behaviour attribute of Thalia: ‘Please note that the plant has an unusual mechanism for pollination which results in some pollinating insects remaining trapped within the flower, where they can perish. Hover flies appear the most affected.’

No other suppliers that we came across made any such references to the ‘special properties’ of Thalia, so we started a bit of a Twitter campaign to raise awareness, and perhaps get restrictions on the sale of the species, or to at least persuade suppliers to inform potential customers of the plant’s fatal attraction. And perhaps in response to this, we note that six months on, the RHS website now contains the following sentence: ‘Although not carniverous [sic] as such, this plant may trap and kill small insects such as hoverflies and small bees during the pollination process.’ Not the unequivocal recommendation not to buy and grow it that we might have hoped for, but a start nonetheless…

The RHS also provides a list of recommended stockists, of which six are noted for Thalia, one in France and five in the UK (including Beth Chatto’s). Two of those seem no longer to list it on their catalogues, but that still leaves three well-known British aquatic plant suppliers who do without hesitation, one even noting it is ‘much frequented by butterflies, moths and other pollinators’ without giving the full story. And of course other UK suppliers are available, though in the first three pages of a Google search, none referred to Thalia’s nasty little habits, save for World of Water Aquatic Centres which in its information table asks ‘Perfect for Pollinators?’, and gives the answer ‘No’, albeit without explanation.

We shall be contacting suppliers to try and persuade them to at least mention this issue, if not withdraw it from sale , in the hope that insects can be saved and eco-conscious gardeners are not upset at the behaviour of their latest purchase. And future updates to this blog may include a ‘name and shame’ as well as a ‘Hall of Fame’!

IMPORTANT UPDATE AUGUST 2020

It is with great pleasure I can report that the staff and management of Beth Chatto’s have responded very positively to the issues raised by Thalia, and this summer initiated a regime of removal of the flowering spikes as they start to emerge. Their actions and thinking is detailed in a recent blog  by Dave Ward: see here.

They may still be selling the plant, but only with a strong advisory note to buyers to follow suit and ensure flowers are removed. Let’s hope that other gardens, nurseries, suppliers and industry bodies will take note, and do likewise.

The winter thus far remains stubbornly at arm’s length, save for a few frost-washed mornings. The crisp blue light of a midwinter morn has been hard to come by too, temperatures held up and spirits lowered by seemingly unremitting gloom.

But at last today the skies cleared and the garden once again came into its own.

Sunlight and shadows….

Seedheads and sprinkles…

Subtle splendours…

And scentwaves and snowdrops.

‘Reawakening of the year’ hardly seems appropriate, as hitherto the winter slumber has been barely discernable, with few frosts, and bees and other insects around us all the time. As worryingly now seems to be the norm.

Maybe ‘renewal’ is a better term: last year’s leafy growth is playing its final role as a blanket protecting the coming seasons’ primordia from environmental extremes, before breaking down into the nutrients they need to fulfil their potential…

…while tussocks of grass and other plants again provide shelter for overwintering invertebrates, and sources of food to seed-eaters. In too many gardens – happily not Beth Chattos – these would have been ‘tidied up for the winter’.

New spring greens are already coming through, with added colour from variegations and coloured bark, perhaps more obvious and appreciated at this time when flowers are at a premium.

And likewise now is the time to appreciate the trees for what they are, liberated from the distraction of blowsy flowers all around. Standing for decades, centuries even, like old furniture they are so often ignored, but what a delight they are, hinting at the riches they have already given us and promises for the future.

Structure and texture are best appreciated when the sun shines, and this is when their trunks play a role for the few insects on show, sheltered spots for basking flies, even on a cold day like today.

On a warmer day, no doubt many more insects would have been evident, roused from winter torpor and needing to feed to replenish resources for any cold snaps to come. Herein lies the value of a garden: in January, the countryside is pretty much devoid of pollen and nectar sources apart from Gorse. But in a good garden, the ‘winter nectar gap’ can be closed, an essential feature in these times of climatic disruption.

Moreover, some of those plants have a scent that intoxicates even the most jaded human snout, from spicy Wintersweet to rich Witch-hazel, the delicate lily-of-the-valley fragrance of Mahonia to the ultra-sweet wafts of Sarcococca.

A dismal morning, literally and figuratively.

The streets were empty, humanity subdued.

So to a familiar place of refuge, to immerse myself alone in the nature of the garden.

The foliage and fruits from summer and autumn marked the passage of time with sombre hues.

But life clings on….

…some even erupting into a much-needed sign of hope for the future.