22 Spot Ladybirds

About a month ago I was bemoaning the mildewy state of our courgette plants when I noticed a brilliant yellow speck moving about in the foliage. Upon taking a closer look I was happy to find this pair of 22 spot ladybirds taking advantage of the sunny weather by mating vigorously (and for ages!) on the chewed and greying leaves.

It was impossible to get a better photo without disturbing them, but as these  ladybirds are tiny – only 3 to 5 mm long, I was pleased to get any picture at all. All ladybirds are welcome in our garden – they are wonderful pest control – but I only found out how pleased I should have been on behalf of our courgettes yesterday when I read this post about ladybirds in Hagbourne Wildlife, which told me that the 22 spot eats mildew! I had no idea that there were any non-carnivorous ladybirds so I did a little bit of research.

Native to Europe, their latin name is Psyllobora vigintiduopunctata, often abbreviated to Psyllobora 22-punctata, and they can reliably be identified from their small size and uniformity of markings. Each wing case has 11 evenly spaced black spots. The pronotum (the section between the head and the abdomen) also has 5 black spots, which don’t seem to have been counted when this insect was given it’s name. You’ll find them on low growing mildewed (mouldy) plants, and a quick scout around wildlife forums also revealed fun informal accounts of them coming into utility rooms or living in house plant pots where the compost has become mouldy.

Alas my yellow spotted friends could do little for the courgettes – even if they bred a 22 spot army the mildew had already well and truly taken hold. I still like to think of their larvae munching bravely away – at least they won’t go hungry.

Related posts:

Lammas Harvest

This Friday gone was Lammas, and to celebrate the old festival R and I climbed Winter Hill near Cookham and sat looking out at ripe wheat fields while drinking wine and eating strawberries. It was lovely, and I’m going to write about it… but not yet. On Sunday we had a more personal celebration and collected a small harvest from our garden – spinach, the last of our broad beans, blackberries picked from the wild bramble that insists on growing through the fence and into our garden, and perfectly ripe golden plums from our plum tree. Really, it hardly seems so long ago since that tree was smothered in delicate white blossom like the one you see on the left, and now it’s covered in golden fruit. it’s been an excellent year for fruit it seems, the fat berries I’ve noticed clustering on almost every shrub along the River Lee towpath, the spill of yellow and wine coloured plums upon the ground. It’s still summer and I like to think that we haven’t had the best of it yet, and yet… Already the garden is slowing down, with much gone to seed, and many things grown straggly – when did I take my eyes off them, when did this happen? The year has turned, and I am feeling it shifting. It’s as if we’ve finally crested a hill and are no longer poised at the top but already started on the way down. This sounds melancholy I know, but after the work of summer we all want to stop and reap the benefits; the birds who sang and worked themselves ragged to raise their chicks can now be found in hedgerows silently gorgeing on plenty. The sun when it appears is still hot, the days still relatively long, and now is the time to enjoy the fruits of the season.

Related posts:

Mini Garden Safari

Often when I go into the garden even for the shortest of times I’ll be amazed at the wildlife that inhabits our tiny patch of London soil. Just this afternoon as I hung out my washing to dry I was surprised by a comma butterfly landing on the laundry pile, briefly sunning itself then with a jaunty flick of its distinctive ragged wings moving on to a neighbours nettle patch. Any time you step outside at this time of year you may be witness to some fleeting wonder. Gardening gets you closer to the small things, and on a sunny day this week, tending our broad bean plants I felt I was on a mini safari.

The striking broad bean flowers are a favourite of bumble bees, and along with the Comfrey flowers they keep our garden buzzing. It was almost hard to work around them there were so many bees, but they are docile creatures and don’t seem to care much what humans are up to.

Miniature dramas revealed themselves one by one as we examined the plants. A large spider had made a loose tent in the leaves to protect herself and the silken egg case which she carried beneath her body.

She had picked a good place – when the spiderlings hatch they will wreak havoc on the many tiny pests our plants are host to, and so she is most welcome here. The tightly packed top leaves of the plants hid an astonishing multitude of earwigs, and ants scurried up and down the long stalks looking harassed.  Wherever I looked it seemed something was crawling, flying or trying to hide amongst the leaves and stems. A male Oedemera nobilis, or Thick Legged Flower Beetle waved his antennae vaguely while I admired the brilliant iridescent green of his body. Only the male has those bulbous back legs!

I was probably out in the garden for ten minutes at most, and yet the small task of weeding gave me the chance to learn of a new creature (that beetle and his gorgeous gold/green tailcoat). Most importantly, it impressed upon me the truth that wherever you go there are small wonders thriving and living out their dramas, as extraordinary and worthy of our notice as any creature of the African plains.

Related posts:

Seed Bombs!

Last Saturday I was lucky enough to get invited to help run a seed bomb workshop at  Haringay Independence Day. It was a perfect sunny summer day and we had our hands dirty for most of it, as well as getting to attend other workshops, jam sessions, swap gardening knowledge and give and get stuff for free. But let’s cut to the chase; what on earth is a seed bomb?

A seedbomb is a convenient way of sowing seed on derelict land in the hope of improving the environment either aesthetically, or by improving the soil, by encouraging native wildflowers or even planting vegetables or other edible goodies. Seed bombing probably came out of the Community Garden Movement that sprung up in New York in the 1970′s, when ordinary people decided to do something positive about the derelict land that blighted the city’s heart. They planted clandestine gardens in vacant lots, utilising seed bombs as a start when access to the desired land was proving difficult.  New Yorkers were not the first to practice the creative art of Guerilla Gardening which has a venerable history wherever derelict land and human need have coincided, but seed bombing was a technique the New Yorkers made their own.  So, what makes a good seed bomb, and why is it a “bomb” exactly?

A seedbomb consists of three things – the seeds, a pinch of peat free compost or topsoil, and the outer bomb casing for want of a better description. In our demonstration we used London clay for this,  which is perfect because it’s free (If you live in London you just dig down a metre or so beyond all the builders rubble and crap and there it is, a rich seam of beautiful clay) and also because when it’s dry, it becomes brittle and shatters easily. If you do not have a local clay soil, you can use newspaper pulped in a blender to make papier mache mixture instead. I guess you could even use a mixture of flour and water…

So, you need:-

• Clay or papier mache
• a small amount of rich topsoil or peat free compost
• seeds of your choice
• a bit of paper to wrap each seedbomb in

Grab a lump of clay or papier mache about the size of a golf ball or a little smaller, and roll it into a ball. Next, poke your finger hard into the clay or papier mache until you’ve made a hole. Then, put a small pinch of your topsoil or compost into the hole… it only needs to be a tiny amount. Now you are ready to add your seeds – you can mix up your flower varieties if you like but a favourite seed bomb flower of mine is poppies. Once you’ve tucked the seeds into the hole, close it up by smoothing clay over the hole or adding more papier mache, and roll the ball in your hands again to make it round. Then put your seedbomb somewhere safe to dry, like a sunny window ledge.

Make as many as you like! When your seedbomb is completely dry, it is ready to use.

How do I use it? And you still haven’t explained why it’s a bomb!

Well,  seed grenade is probably a more appropriate name, since what you are going to do is throw your seedbomb on the ground really hard in order to make it shatter. In the act of shattering, your seeds and their little bit of nutrient soil are dispersed much better than if you tried to sow them by hand and it’s much less fiddly… you can plant hundreds of seeds on the move and in an instant – you don’t even have to break your stride! So once your papier mache or clay balls are completely dry, put them in a bag in your pocket and go out looking for targets.

Where should I seedbomb? Any small neglected patch of land. Be creative in your choices! The dirt around a street tree might be a good place, or the long grass near some railings where the mower can never reach, or a neglected municipal flower bed. Grass verges around car parks that need brightening up. Traffic islands and roadside verges are great fun to seedbomb from a bicycle and the extra speed means they explode all the better! If you don’t have time to tend your garden – throw some down there!

Is there anywhere I shouldn’t seedbomb? Seedbombing is best done in neglected places frequented by humans – nature reserves or wild places should not be seedbombed! They may have delicate ecosystems that could get disrupted by introducing new plants.

What kind of seed should I use? Plants that don’t need a lot of looking after are best. If you just want to add a splash of colour to a neglected spot I would always recommend poppies. Poppies are a seedbombers friend because they thrive in neglected soil and wherever you live in the world there will probably be a native species of poppy you can use seeds from, so you are helping wildlife too! In fact, using native wildflowers is always better,  because they don’t need looking after and will not create a pest problem.  In the UK I’d recommend looking for a wildflower meadow mix as these will contain beautiful colourful plants that will do well in poor soil and with no extra effort once sown.

It didn’t shatter properly! Don’t worry, you can help it on it’s way by crushing the seedbomb underfoot if you can get to it; the weather, passing animals and insects will probably finish the dispersal for you. If it’s at least got a good crack running through it do nothing; the next time it rains the water will split it apart and disperse it naturally.

But what if my seeds grow and the council comes along and mows everything up, that would be horrible! The trick is be prolific in your seedbombing and don’t be too precious – of all the millions of seeds created by nature only the tiniest percentage survive to become thriving plants and for whatever reason this may well be true of your seed bomb babies. Don’t be downhearted… keep trying! Even if only a few plants make it you’ve brightened the world a tiny bit. There is a lovely saying – “If I knew the world would end tomorrow I would plant an apple tree today”.

We made hundreds of seedbombs on Saturday, and there was a handful left over that nobody took away. I’m going to look out for suitable sites to bomb and report back when I’m done!

Related posts:

Gardening Grounds Me

It’s been a busy and disjointed time for me lately, too much living out of a backpack for one reason and another. One thing that’s helped no end is our garden;  our little plot isn’t huge, but this year we’ve all got gardening fever and I’ve been so glad of the garden as a way to ground me when I am home.

We’ve cobbled together an eccentric bunch of containers to grow potatoes and carrots in, and it’s amazing how many generous people have donated seed. Home made compost, home made bottle cloches, pots recycled from last years annuals and our garden table is groaning under the weight of potted seedlings raised on high as protection from slugs. The courgettes we sowed in an old water container about six weeks ago are already in the ground and almost ready to flower; I’ve barely been able to keep up with their growth. Our potatoes, buried experimentally in tyres stacked up near the house are already showing promise. Jerusalem Artichokes have shot up like rockets, with a promise of cheerful sunflower blooms and tasty tubers for the pot.

We’ve got beans, we’ve got chilli peppers – we’ve got whatever random things we could easily cadge or lay our hands on, and the practical tasks of planting, watering, weeding and just getting my fingers into the sweet earth has been bliss.

I’d been hoping to photograph our little seedling babies right from the start – a little garden diary documenting their growth, but the growing season is already in full swing and most of them are seedlings no more. Still, my experiment of growing carrots in a window-box is in early days yet so perhaps the second wave of plantings will make good subjects.

We’re not just tending a vegetable patch though. The garden also contains a fascinating and totally unplanned selection of ornamentals, things planted by tenants long gone, self seeded annuals that have made their way over the fence broadcast by wind, birds or in the fur of cats and foxes, and there are the humble garden centre plants we couldn’t resist for their cheap and cheerful resilience. A friend who works for the council frequently brings us rescued municipal strays; when the bedding displays in the local park gets changed she rescues plants that would otherwise get thrown away, and our garden is home to many.

The loveliest things so far have been the native plants – Lungwort earlier in the spring has been overtaken by its handsome and showy relative Comfrey, and both have sung with bees from the opening of the first flower.

Related posts:

« Previous Page