Rain, mud, more rain and more mud in my small Devon wood

Sometimes we feel as though the very wet weather is just aimed at us here in mid-Devon. It seems to have been this way for months. However bad it seems though, other parts of the country have clearly had it worse. Our house stands 15-20 feet above the river Bathern and our greatest risk is probably from any water coming down the hill at the back.

Regardless of the wet and consequent mud, we've kept up the tree planting and bramble clearing plus other 'dry' jobs like the new entrance gate to the wood. I've also constructed the first seat for the wood. I'll write a separate post abut those two little projects.

We took possession of the wood in late May 2019 when the wild garlic and dog's mercury covered just about the whole ground layer. That meant we only just caught the tail end of the spring growth seeing only hints of what we missed - the solitary bluebell, a single early purple orchid (pic below) and the then flowerless primulas.

Early purple orchid pictured in April 2019 when
 we were viewing the property prior to purchase. The
plants around it are the ubiquitous dog's mercury.

These last few weeks though have given a better sense of what we missed last year. For example, I've counted 15 early purple orchids and each wandering reveals more of the distinctive leaves with their great blotches of black. 'Snowdrop wood' wouldn't be a misnomer here: the recently cleared banks have revealed hundreds of them. The first to flower are nearly over now but the blooming continues. Snowdrop bulbs are divided when green so we have been spreading them around hoping for an even better show next year. Daffodils are also abundent. There are what appear to be patches of the smaller wild ones plus other larger cultivated species. Not as many as there are snowdrops but still impressive.

Species of woodland flora take their turns in coming back to life after the dormant winter period. First the snowdrops, who don't seem to mind the low light of late winter. The daffodils follow as the light strengthens and the ground hugging primula provide first a welcome splash of bright green followed by the tentative showing of the pale yellow flowers. About this time the much maligned stinging nettle starts to shoot. It's a great plant for some species of butterfly and when young, can be harvested and added to stews and soups. Cooking neutralises the stinging properties. Meanwhile, first signs of the wild garlic begin to show. The shallot shaped semi transluscent bulbs often get pushed above the surface as the roots extend and when we walk the paths our feet bruise them releasing the distinctive garlic smell. The wild garlic is now growing like grass so the orchids and other spring awakener don't have much time before they will be overwhelmed. Somewhere we have a recipe for wild garlic pesto and we may give that a go this year.

Wild daffodills in the wood.

The English blubell won't be overwhelmed. It's a sturdy, vigorous plant that will outgrow the garlic. They are now emerging and early signs are that they will rival the snowdrops in number and spread. Looking forward to that.

Not knowing what we would find in the Spring, we took out the insurance of planting our own spring bulbs. Not sure we needed to do that now we can see what's on the way and really didn't need to bring that plant pot of wild garlic with us....

I wish there wasn't so much dog's mercury. This is shooting up and will outgrow and outlst the wild garlic and bluebells.  So-named because dogs will nibble at it in the same way they will often eat grass as an emetic. Jarvis isn't too bothered but Honey eats it and in her advancing years, we rather she did not. From now on the birdsong is likely to be broken by the harsh human sound of 'Honey! Leave that alone!'. It doesn't make much difference needless to say.

Just 3 trees left to plant out of the 50 or so we purchased from the local nursery. Looking at  the ones we have already planted they have healthy signs of buds coming to life. It was fairly hard work digging out holes in the rocky ground, fetching leaf mould from beneath the beech trees to give the roots a decent medium to grow in and stopping Honey from digging the trees up again. Looking at them now it was worth the effort.