Just read an article in the New Scientist (Smarty Plants, 6 December 2014) about the intelligence of plants by Anil Anathaswamy.  I had explored this concept in my book LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND GARDENING.  Plants respond to touch (Mimosa pudica quickly, but others more slowly, heavens a lot more slowly), they respond to light and shade, they can hear (we saw orchids swaying to music in Thailand, yes, I am not joking), they can smell and communicate.  ‘They think, they react, they remember.’ Now it’s being explored scientifically.  With plants, ‘you get into this space where you are...

Today, first day of winter in the meteorological calendar.  So the met office says. Tidying up, they say one shouldn’t, that there are hibernating things of all sorts under the dead stuff, but I do.  Like  housework, but enjoyable, clearing and piling the slimy soapy leaves into sacks. No frosts, yet all deciduous leaves have fallen.  The sky striped with bars of blue sky and pink clouds.  Above me the white barked birch becomes pink, like branched coral.  Stillness, yet change every moment.  All is illusion. An Iris unguicularis has flowered, tatty and quickly slug riddled, but blue,...

RYAN AIR  Ryan Air is rough.  Hard narrow seats which do not recline.  Paid £2 for extra leg room, and £8 for priority boarding, and 4 + euros for tea & biscuit.  But it got us there on time.   VALLETTA.   I was in Malta as a baby and christened at the Holy Trinity Church, Sliema – then war broke out, and Pa who served at Bighi Royal Naval Hospital, was rapidly sent back to the UK.  Ma stuffed every crack in a room with paper, so we wouldn’t inhale poison gas if the Germans released it over the island (presumably we’d asphyxiate instead).  There she was with Robin 6,...

November Leaves hang, heavy, tired and sick, longing to die, longing for the hard frost that will release them.   Trees and perennials long to be free of their sodden weight, but the leaves just drag on, like a dying person still clinging to life. I have two Cotoneaster rothschildianus, and this year they have berried up prolifically – loads of gold berries.  Earlier, I wished I only had red berried cotoneasters – then Rosie Sturgis saw these through the window and marvelled, and I too realised they were beautiful.  Sometimes I need someone else to see things for me. Tried to plant tulip...

In the garden’s early morning, golden wires lead to heaven. Iridescent webs shimmer.    Single leaves spin mid-air, hung suspended from invisible lines. Chief spider is Araneus diadematus – its diadem is a cross shaped filigree pattern on its abdomen – you can just see it here.  The web is sticky, hung with eviscerated tiny flies, and the threads which hold it to bushes, trees or buildings and along which it abseils down to a corner are not. Why on television and books people do get so excited and partisan, taking sides with prey or attacker, the eater or the eaten as if in a football...