Ireland’s Changing Flora: A Vital Report

If you read nothing else right now, please read Ireland’s Changing Flora: A Summary of the Results of Plant Atlas 2020. All the quotes and charts in this post are from that report, while the photographs are my own. The report is written in English and as Gaeilge.

A publication of the Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland, and written in an accessible style, this vital report, a summary of a much longer book, charts what has been recorded of the changes in plant diversity in the last 20 years, based on the hard work of hundreds of recorders in the field. I’ve had the privilege to participate in a Rare Plant Monitoring Workshop (below, on Mizen Head) and every year I monitor three rare plants for the National Biodiversity Data Centre.

The results are, as you might expect, not happy. Here is a bar chart, for example, showing how Native Plants, Archaeophytes and Neophytes are trending. 

The chart shows that more than half of all natives have decreased, whereas the overwhelming majority of neophytes have increased. These figures are based on short term trends, i.e. since 1987.

Why does this matter?

The decline in awareness of plants has occurred when plants need our attention the most. Globally we know that 40% of plant species are threatened with extinction. Many insects and other forms of life depend on specific plants, so the extinction of plants leads in turn to the extinction of many other things. In the Ireland Red List, 18% of plant species are in one of the threat categories and a further 9% are on a waiting list because of insufficient data. Time is not on our side.

The report looks at examples of plants which have increased or decreased and our own experience in West Cork will readily confirm its findings. Sitka Spruce, of course is one of those that have increased enormously, but here are four other examples from my own files.

American Willowherb, first recorded in 1958 and now everywhere, including my own garden.

Butterfly Bush has spread rapidly since the 1960s. Butterfly Bush may seem benign but like many other introduced species there is a dark side. First of all, as Tony O’Mahony points out in his Wildflowers of Cork City and County, it’s quite invasive and can take over and crowd out native species. The roots can do significant structural damage to the very walls it depends on for survival. More serious is the charge that, while it provides nectar for butterflies it is not a butterfly host plant – that is, one that butterflies can use to deposit their larva, which will then feed on the leaves. According to a spokesperson concerned about the destruction of chalk grasslands at Folkestone Warren in KentIf left uncontrolled, then buddleia and other shrubs would have engulfed the chalk grassland. Clouds of butterflies used to be seen there, but now only common species can be spotted and even these are in decline, with the rarest ones disappearing altogether. Buddleia was eliminating butterfly habitat by killing off everything else, and while the shrub provided food for adults and larger insects, other plants were needed for butterflies in their larval stages.

Himalayan Balsam, a beautiful but highly invasive species that can colonise waterways, choking out our native flowers.

Variegated Yellow Archangel – only here since the 70s, it can carpet woods in the spring, crowding out our native woodland species.

Examples are also given of plants that have decreased, and indeed most of these I have never seen, such as Agrimony, Corn Mint, Field Gentian, Heath Cudweed and Mugwort. Two that I have been fortunate to observe and photograph before they get even rarer are Corn Marigold and Marsh Lousewort.

Corn Marigold – just as it is supposed to grow, on the edges of arable fields. It is hanging on in West Cork here and there and it’s always a treat to see it.

Marsh Lousewort – I have only found this once, in the Derreennatra Bog I wrote about in my post “The Wildest and Richest Gardens” – West Cork Bog Soaks

A section of the report looks at Habitat Loss and another at Climate Change and its effects on our wild flora. Reading about the loss of species-rich native Grasslands is particularly sobering. 

It may seem ironic that grassland should be threatened in Ireland, but it is the loss of certain types of grassland – those on less fertile soils and rich in wild species – that is the issue. These ‘semi-natural’ grasslands supported a large number of our characteristic native species, including many orchids. They were maintained by extensive grazing, or by the cutting of hay in mid to late summer. Converting these habitats rich in species into more intensively managed grassland, or in some cases abandonment to scrub, has led to the loss of many species that could not compete in the altered environment. The underlying reason for the decline of many grassland plants lies in their response to nutrient concentrations, such as soil nitrogen levels and nitrogen deposition from the atmosphere. For the most part, native grassland species require low levels of fertility; they cannot compete successfully at higher levels. It may at first seem counterintuitive that high fertility levels could be inimical to plant diversity, but there is now a very large body of evidence pointing in this direction. We can conclude that grassland plants generally are in trouble, with the exception of those few species that thrive in highly fertile conditions.

Even in West Cork, our fields are becoming larger and hedgerows are disappearing. Wetlands, woodlands and ‘Arable land and other disturbed habitats’ are also dealt with. The report notes that while the volume of ‘weeds’ in agricultural lands has reduced, what is mostly missing are the native plants, while the variety has increased with the advent of new species. The Common Poppy, for example, might be making a comeback since it is often included in wildflower mixes. I saw the ones below in a field in Wicklow.

The report concludes with some highly charged questions.

A botanical visitor to the present day from the 1950s would see vast changes in Ireland. Changes in the landscape would stand out, with large swathes of dark conifer forest in the uplands having replaced areas of blanket bog and hill pastures. There would be larger, more uniformly deep-green fields in the lowlands, less length of hedge, more fence, and many fewer areas of marsh and bogland. Roads would be larger and straighter with verges that were mown by machine once or twice a year rather than grazed or cut spasmodically by hand. There would be fewer small potato patches, and arable crops would be less widespread and more concentrated in favourable areas.

Looking more closely, they would see that the mature conifer plantations consisted mainly of one species, Sitka Spruce, in huge numbers of even-aged stands, and had very few plants growing within them. The green fields of the lowlands would have a few plants of familiar common species like Dandelions, Docks and Chickweed along with the ubiquitous Ryegrass, but the diverse flower-rich meadows would have disappeared. Road verges would be dominated by rank growth of grasses. Pockets of wetland would be far fewer except in the West. All these changes and many more have been documented, implicitly or explicitly, by the findings of Plant Atlas 2020 and comparisons with those of its predecessors.

Our visitor might raise a flurry of questions. Have scientists been looking the other way? Why were the best habitats not protected? Who should have prevented the pollution of water bodies by nutrients? How did the idea of planting vast uniform stands of one alien conifer on deep peat take root Whose job should it have been to develop a long-term vision for Irish land-use? Were the consequences of moving towards energy-intensive farming systems foreseeable?

These are questions closer to the realm of politics than of science. Plant Atlas 2020 itself cannot answer them, but the information within it provides an enormous wealth of data about the distributions of Irish plants and how they have changed.

Sea Kale, above, is a rare plant that seems to be more abundant now that it was 20 years ago. As the report points out, there are a few examples like this that may relate to how records are collected rather than the absolute abundance/rarity of the plant, and the report tries to provide a model that corrects for this.

Finally, there are a set of recommendations based on protecting and restoring habitats, and the last is this one:

Repair the cultural standing of plants. As generations of people become more distant from their origins on the land, they tend to overlook the vital roles of plants. Their place in formal education has dwindled, and most people can name very few of them. By omission, plants are misunderstood, downplayed, ignored, and dismissed, even though we still need them as much as ever. Plants require more of our attention and it is in our interest to give it to them.

So what can we- you and I – do about this? Here are my own actions – they are simple and doable by anyone.

First, I have educated myself about wildflowers. Buy a copy of Zoe Devlin’s Wildflowers of Ireland and take it with you as you walk (that’s Zoe, above, with a group of us hanging on her every word). Or take your phone and use her website or one of the new plant ID APPs. People swear by their own, but I have to say I have found the Picture This app to be reliable and easy to use.

Second, I have tried to spread the good word. I do this using this blog – see the Flora and Fauna of West Cork Page for many many posts on our wildflowers – including lots of slideshows for pure enjoyment. The one above, Wandering the Boreens, is one of my favourites and shows what can be seen along a typical West Cork road in summer. I have also developed a Wildflowers Brochure for use along the the Fastnet Trails, and occasionally lead wildflower walks (below) and give talks. Perhaps most importantly, I am now using my Instagram page for short (I aim for 30 seconds or less) videos on individual wildflowers. I’ll be starting that up again soon for 2023.

Third, I have set aside part of my own One Acre as a wildflower meadow. How I have done this is all laid out in my Rewilding My One Acre Posts and it has taken very little work on my part. If you have a garden or any bit of land around your residence, do consider whether you can do this too. The Pollinators will be very grateful.

Finally, I try to mow as little as possible and I have changed my mindset about ‘weeds’ and such concepts as ‘curb appeal’ and ‘tidiness.’ True gardeners would be horrified, but the insects don’t seem to mind. A tiny rare plant, Sharp-leaved Fluellen (below), showed up on my driveway, who knows how – but if the ‘weeds’ had been eliminated, I would never have found it.

PLEASE read the report, and see what you can do to protect our precious biodiversity.

Long Island Wildflower Walk

Tracy and Peter Collins are the charming and enterprising couple behind Castaway Wild Island Camping on Long Island in West Cork. When they asked us if we’d like to help with a collaborative island adventure we jumped at the chance to lead a wildflower walk.

But who knew there would be such a demand? Our first date (yesterday) filled up overnight with a waiting list, so we put on a second and it filled from the waiting list! 

People are hungry, it seems, for experiences like this – and who can blame anyone for wanting to spend time on Long Island! We’ve been there several times and we know that the place, as my mother used to say, is Falling Down with Wildflowers. And so, yesterday, we met with our first group – and what a lovely and talented bunch of people it turned out to be, including an archaeologist, a fish biologist, an ecologist, a professor of Pharmaceutics, teachers, fellow-blogger Amanda from Holy Wells of Cork and Kerry, and an assortment of Long Island and wildflower lovers.

We started off at East House, home of Castaway Wild Island Camping for coffee and possibly the most delicious biscuits I’ve ever tasted, and then started our walk westward along the spine of the island, stopping as we went to talk about the habitats we were passing through, and the different flowers that had successfully adapted to those habitats. Hedgebank, field margins, stone walls and rock faces, old gardens – all carry their own assortment of plants.

From the top: Cat’s-ear and Sheep’s-bit on a hedgebank; close up of Sheep’s-bit; English Stonecrop, Navelwort and lichen on rock face

I never thought I would be blasé about orchids, but there are so  many at this time of year on Long Island that we soon ceased to stop and exclaim over each new group (below). Mark, the ecologist, was very knowledgeable about plants and pointed out the presence of Yellow Rattle, something that’s quite hard to find in the wild in West Cork but really important for creating good conditions for a wildflower meadow.

An island man, Joe Whooley, lovingly maintains the well at Cuas na Gualainne (the Little Inlet of the Shoulders – a reference, we think, to the shape of the tiny bay) and it was looking even better than the last time we were there. Amanda shared her knowledge of holy wells in general and told us about this one in particular. She’s not sure what the source of the holiness is, but is investigating. Meanwhile, the water was found to be clear and tasty. 

Reaching the Westlands pier, we concentrated on a whole new habitat, one in which marine-adapted plants flourish in what looks like unpromising conditions of shingle and bare rock..

From the top: a colourful patch of Kidney Vetch (pink), Sea Campion (white) and Bird’s-foot Trefoil (yellow); the delicate white flower of Sea Sandwort

And here was one of the prizes – the Yellow Horned-poppy. It’s rare – classed as near threatened in the Red Data List of Vascular Plants – and strikingly beautiful. It’s wonderful to see a flourishing community of this exotic-looking flower on Long Island and I was thrilled to find some blooming already as I thought we might be too early for them.

From the top: Teresa and Amanda with one of the poppies: a poppy close-up

After a while exploring the shingle beach and the sandy beach we were all ravenous and like magic Tracy and Peter appeared with a fabulous lunch box for everyone. Home-made everything, some of it from their own garden (chocolate-dipped strawberries!) and delicious lemonade.

Tracy and Peter and the superb lunch

Mark gave us an impromptu talk on the island environment, reminding us all it was an essentially man-made habitat, and on the importance of this coastal strip of south west Ireland for so much flora and fauna. A possible future national park? That’s a huge YES from us!

From the top: The Royal Fern – the spore-bearing fronds are starting to appear – this species is an indicator of a healthy environment and Mark told us it it getting to be quite rare in some parts of Europe and needs protection; Rock Sea-spurrey – a beautiful and tiny pink flower that likes to grow on rocks by the sea

Well fuelled, we made our way back to the ferry. The chat was mighty along the way, with old friends catching up and new friendships being forged. 

We’ll be doing it again next Saturday – all full up already, so sorry. But why not go on a do-it-yourself wildflower ramble on Long Island any time? Check the ferry schedule, pick up a copy of Zoe Devlin’s The Wildflowers of Ireland (she’s just brought out a new edition – the best and easiest way to teach yourself how to wildflower)  and treat yourself to a day in Paradise! Better still – book in with Castaway Wild Island Camping for a true island adventure.

Become a Citizen Scientist!

The National Biodiversity Data Centre, which is also known as Ireland’s Citizen Science Portal, is asking us to record certain spring flowers that we see. This is not a task, it’s a pleasure! What could be more delightful than wandering down a country boreen, stopping to admire the flowers (like the Cuckooflowers above, seen near Bantry) and in about a minute, sending off a record to the Data Centre?

Common Dog-violets, Greenmount, near Ballydehob

Yes, they have made it that easy, with the most amazing little app. I’ll explain how to use it below, but first – why record spring flowers at all? Here’s what the NBDC says about that:

All recording is valuable as it contributes to furthering plant conservation in Ireland. Most plant recording takes place later in the summer. This project is particularly important as it encourages records of early-flowering species that can otherwise be lacking in data. Many of the spring flowering plants are very distinctive, making it a good way for those new to recording to get involved.

Primroses, Rossbrin

Most (but not all) of the flowers selected for this Spring Flowering Plant Project are common and can be found extensively around West Cork and elsewhere in Ireland. Here’s the list: 1. Bluebell 2. Common Dog-violet 3. Cowslip 4. Cuckooflower 5. Early Dog-violet 6. Early-purple Orchid 7. Lesser Celandine 8. Lords-and-Ladies 9. Primrose 10. Ramsons/Wild garlic 11. Toothwort 12. Winter Heliotrope 13. Wood Anemone 14. Wood-sorrel.

Winter Heliotrope is an invasive species and a common sight along roads and railway tracks. Here it has colonised the Butter Road

The Winter Heliotrope has been blooming since December, and I’ve already seen my first Primrose. But the real spring blooming time is yet to come, in March and April, and into May. That’s when our hedgerows will come alive with Common Dog-violets and Lesser Celandine, and the Cuckooflowers will suddenly appear in the fields.

We saw these beautiful Lesser Celandine consorting with March Violets in the Magic Forest

A venture into the woods will reward you with Wood Sorrel and Wood Anemone, and the ultimate spring experience – a carpet of bluebells. A trip to the Beara Peninsula early last April provided an opportunity to wander up the River Path at Gleninchaquin, surely one of the most picturesque spots in all of Ireland. Not only was it a gorgeous warm spring day, but the path wound its way through clumps of Wood Anemone and Wood Sorrel.

The Wood Sorrel leaves are like large shamrocks, while the flower has a sweet little white head veined with pink

Returning through Kenmare we stopped by an old graveyard just outside the town, to find the entire area covered in bluebells. The other place to look out for bluebells is, perhaps surprisingly, in recently burned patches. It’s the only upside to a lot of the burning that goes on around here. The bulbs, like those of many flowers, are able to lie dormant underground for many years until the right conditions allow them to germinate.

There’s always lots of Wild Garlic around, but the NBDC are asking us to record the native plant, also known as Ramsons, and NOT the ubiquitous Three-cornered Garlic that looks a little like white Bluebells. Ramsons are a little harder to find, although there is a magnificent stand of them near here. Unfortunately, it’s on a bad bend on a busy road, and also under an active rookery. When I finally managed to pull in safely last year, it was to discover that every plant was covered in rook droppings. There went my plans for Wild Garlic Pesto.

The Ramsons stand at New Court – and a close up of the effects of being located under a rookery

While I have lots of photographs of orchids, I have never seen the Early Purple Orchid. However, they have been spotted around Crookhaven, so that’s one of my goals for this year. I want to try to find some Lords-and-Ladies in their spring phase as well – the only photos I have are from the Caol Stream project I did last year, and they already have their green, highly poisonous spikes, which turn red later.

While the Common Dog-violet is, well, common, the Early Dog Violet is rare. I may have spotted one last year on the Sheep’s Head, but I didn’t get good enough photographs of it then to make a positive ID. If you’re unsure, always try to get shots of the leaves, or the basal rosette, and the context (hedgebank? stream bed? grassy field? disturbed ground?) – all this will help you when you download your photographs and look through your resources.

What I think is an Early Dog-violet, found on the Sheep’s Head. I wonder if I can find it again, as I need to verify this by taking better photographs

And speaking of resources – here are my go-to sites and books:

  1. Wildflowers of Ireland: Zöe Devlin’s book is the perfect companion for a walk – small enough to pack around and very easy to use, as it’s organised by colour and number of petals. Her website is likewise excellent and easy to navigate.
  2. Irish Wildflowers – if you can’t find it in Wildflowers of Ireland try this site. The information isn’t as expansive, but it’s good on Cork species and it’s searchable in a variety of ways.
  3. A Beginner’s Guide to Irish Wild Flowers – a handy little reference book that slips in the pocket. It’s published by the wonderful Sherkin Island Marine Station, and is organised by family groups. For such a tiny book it is packed with information (by John Akeroyd) and excellent photographs (by Robbie Murphy). If you can’t find it in a book shop, you can order it through the Marine Station.

Wood Anemone – a delicate beauty

Now – you want to get recording, so here’s what to do. Go to the App Store or Google Play and search for the free app ‘Biodiversity Data Capture.’ You will find a very clean and simple interface which exists for one purpose, to make it incredibly easy to record a sighting. The whole process of recording one flower takes about a minute!

First, find your flower! Make sure your Location Services is ON. Open the app, and in the app take a picture of the flower. While you are doing that, the app is busy establishing your location. From the Species Group, select Vascular Plants (last option). From the Species, select the flower. You can start to type the name and a list of near-spellings should come up. Site – type in the name of the place, for example, a townland or road. Select a habitat – whatever seems closest. Type in any comments you have, add your name and email address, and Save. Once that’s done, go back to My Sightings and hit the Upload button, or wait until you have several (or until you’re on WiFi) and hit Upload All.

Bluebells growing on a recently-burned hillside, where no Bluebells had been before

Don’t worry if you think you made a mistake. A real human checks all the records submitted (that’s why it’s important to include a photograph) and only includes verified records in the final selection. Now so – give it a go and tell me how you get along. And if you do, feel proud, because you will have joined the ranks of the Citizen Scientists of Ireland, all doing their bit to safeguard our precious biodiversity.

‘Twas Early Early All in the Spring

The world around us is starting to wake up from its winter snooze. We are shooing bees and wasps from our house and every day we see new flowers (like these Wood Anemones, above) peeping out at us from the verges and hedges. It’s estimated that this part of Ireland is about two weeks ahead of the more northerly counties, due to our milder and dryer climate. All of the photographs were taken in March, except for a couple on April 1st. But that’s OK, because the first three days of April are The Borrowed Days, according to Irish folklore, and still really March. 

Primroses – indelibly associated with early spring. Most are yellow (top) but a true wild pink variety (as opposed to a hybrid between wild and cultivated flowers) does exist too.  The little one about to open is growing out of a stone wall.

Although not yet in their full spring splendour, the boreens are sporting a plethora of wildflowers. And not just flowers but flowering trees and shrubs. In fact much of the colour and drama of the boreen come from shrubs at this time of year.

Blackthorn 

I set out to document the wildflowers of a West Cork March and found many old friends already showing themselves, as well as a few new acquaintances. Ready for a ramble? Let’s go.

We’ll start up in Stouke and walk back to Rossbrin by way of Kilbronoge. The first things that hits us of course is that heady combination of Gorse and Blackthorn along each side of the boreen. The Blackthorn flowers come before the leaves and they are beautiful when observed close up.

Blackthorn flowers

This year the Gorse seems especially vibrant – but I think I say that every year.

Gorse (upper) and Berberis (lower)

 At some point in the past, somebody planted Berberis as a decorative hedging, perhaps around the Stouke graveyard. It has spread and is still spreading. Although it was only introduced in the mid-19th century from Chile (by none-other than Charles Darwin!) it thrives here, happily lending its rich orangey tones to ensure you keep looking up.

Flowering currant along the boreen

Further along we came across a long stretch of Flowering Currant. You smell it before you see it – all at once you’ll be sniffing and saying mmmm! Flowering Currant came to Europe about the same time as the Berberis and this one was probably originally planted as a hedge, but now the birds have spread it far and wide and it’s naturalised.

Close up, the flowers are spectacular and they have a strong and pleasant curranty aroma. Thank you to my friend Susan for introducing me to the Berberis and Flowering Currant.

As we make our way down to the water we are stopped in our tracks every so often to admire that quintessential early riot of yellow – Celandine. On its own, or mixed with bright pink Herb Robert or with blue Dog Violets, it’s a cheerful sight.

The Daffodils have gone over now, except for a few hardy souls in sheltered spots. I know Daffodils aren’t really wildflowers, but they grow so freely all over the place here, in the middle of fields, along the grassy verges, and especially in old graveyards, that I simply see them as yet another one of the spring flowers. 

Stitchwort is everywhere too, and little blue Speedwells – you have to be alert for that tiny blue pop of colour or you’ll miss them entirely. The first Common Vetch is just beginning to appear as well.

Stitchwort (top), Slender Speedwell (lower left) and Common Vetch (lower right)

Down on the water, we’re on the look out for Thrift, or Sea Pinks. There are none in Rossbrin yet, but I did see some on a sunny sea-cliff the other day. I risked life and limb to get a photo!

I was hanging over the cliff – but look at the other photographer in the background. I was concentrating so hard on the Thrift I never noticed until afterwards that somebody else was taking pictures too. She survived it, but it sure looks risky from this angle

When I was photographing the Thrift I noticed something else, further down the cliff face. I had to dangle over the edge to get a good shot and was convinced I had discovered a rare species! But here it is again along the Rossbrin Cove wall – it turns out to be Common Scurvygrass. And yes, it’s packed with Vitamin C and sailors used it in a tea to prevent scurvy. For something with an unattractive name, it’s rather fetching, don’t you think?

Common Scurvygrass

Along by the water several of the houses are fronted by stone walls. On one of them we found a whole world unto itself – a complete ecosystem.

Declan Doogue and Carsten Krieger in their marvellous book The Wild Flowers of Ireland: The Habitat Guide (brilliant – highly recommended!) describe what happens to old stone walls:

…Grit, sand and dust gradually accumulated in in the spaces between the cut stones and a thin soil began to form. The stones themselves functioned as a sort of storage heater, warming up by day and retaining heat well into the evening. These small areas were very much warmer and dryer than the surrounding wooded or grassy countryside… In these relatively favourable conditions, some species were able to spread much further north and west into cooler and wetter areas. At a local level a number of plants were enabled to grow in areas where there was no suitable ground for rock dwelling species.

Ivy-leaved Toadflax (an introduced species) loves old walls

Conditions on the top of the wall can be different (drier, for example) than the crevices, or the face or base of the wall, thereby providing a variety of living conditions for different species of plants.

Ramping Fumitory (don’t you love that name!) has rooted well in the south face of the wall

Abundant and beautiful, Ivy-leaved Toadflax clings to the rock face and cascades down the front of the wall. Ramping Fumitory (which seems to be everywhere) had also found a foothold among the stones, and adds lovely flashes of pink.

Wild Strawberries and a little patch of Dandelions occupy space on top of the wall

This wall is south facing, absorbing the maximum amount of heat the sun can provide in West Cork in March. The top hosts Daisies and Dandelions, some newly emerging Scarlet Pimpernel and some Wild Strawberries (duly noted!).

Common Cornsalad or Lamb’s Lettuce

It took me a while to even spot the tiny white flowers hiding among a particular foliage that was growing from spaces between the stones on the front of the wall. Difficult to photograph, as I don’t have a macro lens, this is Common Cornsalad, or Lamb’s Lettuce. As its name suggests, it’s edible, and a popular salad green in several European countries. If you want to get a better idea how tiny these flowers are, check out Zöe Devlin’s listing on her Wildflowers of Ireland site – click on the ‘see more images’ link.

Scarlet Pimpernel on the top of the wall – it’s one of only a very few native flowers in the orangy-red colour range

Nettles, ferns and Navelwort grow on the wall or at the base

This tiny fern is sprouting, in between the stones

But two of the species we found there speak to the indiscriminate nature in which a microclimate like this provides opportunity for all – both Three-Cornered Garlic and Chilean Iris benefit from this ideal patch of sunlight and warmth.

Three-Cornered Garlic is not our native wild garlic (that’s called Ransoms and is a broad-leaved variety). Tony O’Mahony in his excellent Wildflowers of Cork City and County* refers to it as an ‘ineradicable weed’ and says that ‘it poses a major threat to some West Cork native plant rarities’ (such as the Wild Onion). All parts are edible, and said to taste like a cross between an onion and garlic.

Chilean Iris

Chilean Iris is another invasive species, although not considered high-impact, possibly because it needs a warmer climate to grow. However, it has the potential to invade habitat preferred by our native plants. From Rossbrin we wend our way back to our own little patch of paradise. But something catches our eye on the way – can it be? Yes – our first Bluebells of the season, almost hidden in the brambles.

We’ve decided to leave part of our lawn unmowed this year, as an experiment in whether or not a wildflower meadow will develop. We have to be careful, as some areas are already full of Montbretia corms, which will be only too delighted to proliferate if left unchecked.

But we’ve identified an area as having potential. It’s south facing and relatively sheltered – and it’s already a haven for little Common Dog Violets, mixing with the Dandelions and Daisies to provide a colourful carpet. We’ll let you know how things progress.

All this early spring wildflower exploration has made me look closer at the humble ones we take for granted – the Lawn Daisies and those pesky Dandelions. How did I never see before how utterly perfect they both are?

I will leave you with one final image – we found more Berberis down on the water, where it was clinging to a stone wall over the water. An astounding testament to the resourcefulness and strength of such a pretty and delicate-looking stem of flowers.

For more wildflower posts, click here.

*The book is out of print and quite hard to get, but worth the hunt.

Late Bloomers: Invasive, Naturalised and Native

Creeper on white cottage wall

This is my last wildflower post! You must be getting tired of my wildflower obsession by now. So, no more after this one. (Well, at least not in 2016.) The thing is, I had assumed that there was nothing left to see at this point. We are in October after all, and autumn is coming early this year after a cool and misty summer. But a walk today put flight to that notion.

Bee on Ivy Flower

Bracken undergrowthThe ivy flowers are alive with bees right now (above) and the bracken is putting on its winter coat

The predominant colour of the countryside is changing now as the brackens take on their winter amber-brown. The ivy is in full flower. Stand near a patch and you will be instantly aware of the hum. Our little black Irish bees are gathering while they still can and depend on this late flowering and ubiquitous plant for the last remaining nectar. Ivy honey is darker in colour and can smell a little rank, but it has a great reputation as a soothing cure for coughs and colds (especially if mixed with a little whiskey).

Bee on Ivy 2

Red Admiral on IvyThe bees and the Red Admiral Butterflies depend on this late flowering ivy

The trees haven’t quite started to turn yet, but brambles and creepers are in brilliant autumn reds. On our walk today this white cottage wall with its scarlet creeper caught my eye.

Creeper on cottage wall

A couple of surprises awaited us today. The first one was to come across a stand of Indian Balsam. This alas, is an invasive species, introduced as far back at 200 years ago from the Himalayas. The distribution map at the Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland does not show it in West Cork, but I guess I can now say it’s here. In fact, I submitted a report to Invasive Species Ireland – anyone can do this via their Alien Watch Program. Although it is certainly beautiful, it’s a divil – read all about its negative impacts on the Invasive Species Ireland website. Among its other attributes, it has a explosive seedpod that can throw seed up to six metres!

Indian Balsam

Indian Balsam – Invasive Species Ireland lists it with Rhododendron, Japanese Knotweed and Giant Hogweed as the most damaging invasive species

So  what’s the difference between non-native plants that are labelled invasive versus this that are called simply naturalised? Although it can be a matter of debate and perception, in the main we use the term invasive for those non-native plants that spread to such a degree as to exclude native species from the habitat they favour, or cause damage to the environment or the economy. Happily, the only invasive species we encountered on our walk was the Indian Balsam. However, we did come across lots of non-native, naturalised flowers too.

Greater Periwinkle

The Greater Periwinkle – seen a few days ago on The Mizen

The first one (actually seen a few days ago) is this beautiful Greater Periwinkle. It’s not a native plant but has been here a long time. It’s supposed to have great medicinal properties, especially as a laxative and, in an ointment it’s good for, er, piles. According to Zoe Devlin’s Wildflowers of Ireland (my go-to guide) The 17th century herbalist, Nicholas Culpeper wrote ‘that the leaves eaten by man and wife together, cause love between them. Ooh – think I might head back to where I saw it…

Ivy-leaved Toadflax

Ivy-leaved Toadflax

Another non-native species is the Ivy-Leaved Toadflax – not an attractive name for a very pretty little creeper found commonly on rock walls. During the 1600s, wealthy Brits started to import Italian marble into England in the form of building material and statuary. The Toadflax came along for the ride and is now so completely naturalised that few people realise it’s not a native plant. They look wonderful on rock walls but it’s not usually necessary to plant them yourself. According to one source I read, seeds, complete with a starter-pack of organic growing medium, are usually delivered by birds.

Pink Sorrel

Pink Sorrel

The final non-native flower we saw today was the pink sorrel. I thought at first it was Herb Robert, which is a native plant that grows everywhere and is still blooming, but closer examination revealed  a deeper pink, a more massed growth pattern and very different foliage. It’s a garden escape, now naturalised across the south and south east of Ireland.

Fuchsia on bare branches

Actually, I suppose I also have to add the fuchsia to the naturalised non-native list, even though we think of it as the quintessential West Cork flowering shrub. It’s still hanging in there, even though most of the leaves have dropped already.

Creeping Buttercup

Tormentil

The native plants still bravely blooming to delight us tended to be tiny, but bright enough among the grasses, brambles and bracken to immediately catch the eye. We saw Herb Robert, Prickly Sowthistle, Tormentil and patches of what might be Sea Radish (or perhaps not). 

Prickly Sowthistle

Prickly Sowthistle

Herb Robert is such a hardy little flower – it seems to peep out and last longer than almost everything else in the hedgerows. Birds love the seeds of the Prickly Sowthistle – it has guaranteed its survival by appealing to them and providing food when other sources are fading.

Herb Robert

Sea Radish

Herb Robert (top) and possibly Sea Radish

As  a member of the cabbage family, the leaves of the Sea Radish are edible, if a little peppery. Interestingly, it normally finishes flowering in July, so the ones we found today must be in a particularly sheltered spot. But this also raises the possibility that this is a different plant. Can anyone help identify it?

Tormentil Patch

And finally the strangely named Tormentil – it sounds like it may cause pain but in fact it’s the opposite. There are all kinds of medicinal uses for this little flower and its parts, some of which relieve the ‘torment’ of pain. It also, according to this website,  imparts nourishment and support to the bowels and the fresh root, bruised, and applied to the throat and jaws was held to heal the King’s Evil. You heard it here first!

Ballycummisk Coppermine and Gabrial

Our walk today, along one of the Fastnet Trails, took us past the old Ballycummisk mine site and gave us distant views of Mount Gabriel