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Philosophical musings, buchu and wild rosemary

Posted on July 13, 2013 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

I don’t remember all that much about my schooldays, more important things have happened since. But I clearly remember one lesson. Mr Clifford, the science teacher, was explaining the structure of an atom. Someone asked the inevitable question “but if we can’t see it, how do we know it is there?” “Ah”, said Mr Clifford tapping the table in front of him, “but how do we know anything is there, how do we know this table is here? But”, he said, “that’s philosphy.”

That question really caught my imagination, and years later when I was studying philosophy at Trinity College Dublin, I read Bertrand Russell’s The Problems of Philosphy where that question about the table comes under discussion. As does another question: that of truth and knowledge. Simply put, I know all bachelors are men because that lies within the very meaning of the word men “bachelor”. Similarly, can I know that all swans are white? No, I have to keep seeing swans and noting their whiteness. One day I’ll go to Australia, or the zoo, and see a black swan. Whiteness is not a defining factor of swans; that was Russell’s point.

It was buchu that led to these musings as the dogs and I ran this morning. We grow buchu commercially and I always have the notion that buchu flowers are white. As we peaked at the highest point of the run and headed down the moutain (always a very happy moment in the morning run) I suddenly saw this flash of lilac.

Buchu – in this case a hybrid of Agthomsa Crenulata, with an unusual mauve coloured flower

I stopped at once, and low and behold it was a little buchu plant, a hybrid from the farm, with lilac coloured flowers. They were hard to photograph in the dim morning light – I can’t wait for the days to lengthen so that photography becomes easier in the early mornings when I run. Where did this purple come from?

In referring to the books, buchu, or Agthomsa as it is properly known, can indeed flower in mauve. Rather like a swan can be black.

The buchu harvested on our farm is mostly a hybrid. The oils are distilled from the leaves and is used in the European food flavouring and perfume industry, mostly for its strong blackcurrent flavour and smell. Here in South Africa it is used medicinally, it is one of the oldest medicinal flowers in the Cape, indeed in the world. Personally I believe in its natural anti-inflammatory and anti-oxidant properties and I love its aniseed, fennel like flavour and drink a cup or two most days.

Agthomsa crenulata hypbrid: this plant is farmed here and harvested for its essential oils

The other highly aromatic plant on the farm at this time of year is the wild rosemary. This grey scrubby bush used to irritate me, but no longer. Running my hand down the leaves and smelling the rosemary scent, seeing the lands full of shrubs and this exquisite, delicate flower has become a winter joy.

Eriocephalus africanus or wild rosemary

Wild rosemary has taken over this land on the lower slopes of the farm

We are enjoying a mid-winter break at the moment. Winters in the Cape can be long and stormy and sometimes quite cold. This year we are enjoying a warm July. Here in Africa the temperatures are as warm as an Irish summer – over 25 degrees during the day. It’s a bit confusing for the poor plants though and I’m sure we’ll see some strange flowering dates as a result.

The mornings are clear and lovely. As we ran we saw the first rays of sun over the Simmonsberg to the South West. A joyous morning.

The first rays of sun on the Simonsberg

Proteas, Montinea and another glorious sunset

Posted on July 7, 2013 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

Most of this Sunday it drizzled, a slow cold Irish-type drizzle, the kind of soft grey day we don’t often get here. We huddled up in the study before a blazing fire and watched Andy Murray win the tennis at Wimbledon. He wrapped it up pretty quickly, and by the time he’d finished it wasn’t yet dark and I felt in need of exercise after a cold damp weekend, so I put on some running shoes, to the delight of the dogs, and set off up into the mountain with pounding paws and wagging tails leading the way.

I hesitate to say we see something new every single time we go out, but it does feel like it. On Wednesday we came across this Montinia caryophyllacea by the side of the road as we ran up the mountain. I’d taken a picture of it, but these white flowers are hard to photograph when there isn’t enough light. Today was a bit better, though I still need to go up in full daylight to get a better picture. There seems quite a lot of it coming into flower so I’m sure we’ll find more in better light.

Montinia caryophyllacea

That part of the mountain is covered with Muraltia heisteria – it’s not supposed to be flowering at this time of year but this does seem a perfect match. They are lovely, the colours vibrant in the evening light. We’ve seen these before; their vibrant colour means they deserve the occasional picture as they are long flowering and dominate the winter months.

Muraltia heisteria

I’m learning to question everything, and although our Protea nerifolia does come in cream as well as pink and this is probably nerifolia (looking at the leaves) we need a bit more research to be sure. It’s a lovely flower and there are hundreds of these shrubs flowering on the farm at the moment. The house is filled with vases full of proteas, leucadendrons and oddly enough the most wonderful camelias which thrive in the acid sandstone and decomposing granite (and lots of good compost) of the garden here and flower all winter long.

Protea (nerifolia?)

Quite quickly it was far too dark to take good pictures of flowers and although I saw the first of one of our favourite late winter shrubs, we will have to wait another day for a photo (that’s today’s new flower). As the sun dropped behind the Paarderberg mountain, we trotted quietly down the montain, remembering to turn around from time to time to see the glow reflected in pink and orange on the moutains behind.

There is something emotional about a sunset. This evening the air was completely still, quite rare here in the montains. After a rainy day, the sky cleared and the sun broke through, flooding the mountains with colour. The river and dams in the valley reflected the deepening sky. The smell after the rain is clean and scented with flowers and rain, washed and pure and you want to breathe deeply, happily. We were so glad to be up there this evening, thanks to Andy who polished off his victory in time for us to catch this glorious sunset on the night of his even more glorious victory.

Sunsets and Pelargonium

Posted on July 3, 2013 by fynbosblog 2 comments

This morning’s surprise is this lovely Pelargonium. When I’ve had a series of new sightings I’m not necessarily expecting something new every time I go up on the mountain and I’m delighted when we (the dogs and I) come across some enchanting flower waving its petals at us in the dawn light. This is another of the mysterious Pelargoniums – I was so pleased to see this one, and thought we must be able to identify it, it’s so clear and distinctive. Well, I must tell you it is not in the book and a visit to Kirstenbosch with the hopes of a specialised book on Pelargoniums (or is it Perlargonia?) is on the cards very soon. This doesn’t appear to be in the rather good Fynbos Field Guide where 24, presumably of the most common, of the 150 fynbos subspieces occur. This farm is a source of lots of different sub-spieces of Pelargonium and Ericas. I will catalogue them and maybe work through them over time…

The farm sits on an East West Axis, and from here, 70 km away through the clear air, we see Table Mountain, behind which the sun sets in the spring and autumn months. Some nights, at any time of the year, the sun floods the mountains behind us with pink light. It’s not every night, in fact it’s not common at all. Last night I was working away at my desk when an instinct brought me out to look at the light – sure enough, pink mountains. I grabbed the iphone, ran to the dam wall, pursued by delighted dogs, and took this photo. We’ll see have better and pinker mountains to come, but this is the first I’ve captured for the blog. It’s about the flowers, but it’s not all about the flowers.

The Rooi Afrikaner or Gladiolus watsonius – a technical blog

Posted on July 1, 2013 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

For at least four weeks I’ve been frustrated by this glorious red gladiolus.

Gladiolus watsonius

The species is easy to identify, the subspecies has been confusing; our first sighting was at the end of May and the book says it doesn’t flower until August. Even the more detailed encyclopedia says that it flowers from July to September. Furthermore it grows in clay and granite slopes in renosterveld. We have granite and sandstone slopes which is a subtle but important difference when it comes to fynbos. Over the weekend I got more serious and looked more closely – the only possible suspect was Gladiolus priorii. But Gladiolus priorii has a yellow throat and although I didn’t have a photo of the throat, I was pretty sure it’s not yellow. I couldn’t really bring myself to believe that we have a previously unidentified Gladiolus on the far, tempting though it might be.

Today I picked one.

It had fallen over a bit on the bank above the drive, it’s a bit tatty and it was time to take this whole process of identification a bit more seriously. And I can reveal that Gladiolus watsonius has one particular distinction. The lowermost leaf is narrow and H shaped in cross-section. No I didn’t get the scalpel out – I’m not that much of a geek yet. It’s pretty obvious just looking at it.

The lowermost leaf of Gladiolus watsonius

We have a positive identification – it may be the wrong time of year, it may not be quite the right soil-type but there is no doubt: Gladiolus watsonius likes Du Toitskloof and it likes our farm. It flowers when it chooses to and it’s not going to change, so the sages who write the books may need to change a word or two.

Gladiolus watsonius

Magnificent Proteas, more water and some new finds

Posted on June 30, 2013 by fynbosblog One comment

There is a lot to share so today’s blog is all flowers and less about the run.

Up until now I’ve been going by the flowering dates shown in my reference book but I’m now not so sure. I know from the records I’ve kept over the years that the different weather can mean flowering even in the garden here can vary by a month or six weeks from year to year, so why not the fynbos.

Stachys aethiopica, for instance, is supposed to flower in August and September, in the early spring. But we saw one in May and there are small groups of them in different areas at the moment. They are unmistakeable with their flower reminiscent of a pelargonium and distinctive mint-like leaves. Indeed they are a member of lamiaceae, the mint family

Stachys aethiopica

The red gladiolus has cropped up in a few places. There was one by the road when I left in early May that was easily photographed. The latest two are high on the bank above the drive, but worth sharing even if the photo isn’t great. The nearest possibility is gladiolus priorii, though in that case the flowers should be dull red and these are a vibrant scarlet. It should also have a distinctive and easily visible yellow throat and I can see no evidence of that in our flower. I will look again as the size, shape and flowering season fit. I need to look a little closer if one appears in a more accessible area. If not, we’ll have to wait until next year to be sure.

Gladiolus – unamed

The dogs and I had a wonderful run today and we visited the weir to see how much water is flowing. This is always a lovely place; the whitish trunks of the Ilex Mitis or Cape Holly, are magnificent and the permanent water flow makes it a favourite of the dogs.

An ancient Ilex Mitis with its feet in a permanent stream

Jemima Chew enjoying the water in the weir

While I’ve been away the magnificent protea trees have come into flower. They are tall and have spikey white flowers and silver leaves. I believe they are Protea nitida.

Protea – probably nitida

Near them stands this delicate pink protea. It is probably a nerifolia, though the flowers are barely bearded and a paler pink than most of the nerifolio on this farm.

Protea nerifolia – a very pale pink specimen

Flowers found in the forest that abutts the farm are included in our blogs as they are on our regular running route. We’ve seen Ursinia paelacea before and there is lots of it along the forest roads.

Urisinia palaecea

Not everything is easily identified. This little clump of yellow daisy-like flowers is lovely and quite distinctive but I can find no record of them. Suggestions welcome.

A mystery flower – yellow daisy-like flowers are the hardest to identify

As we ran into the forest the path is lined with Leucadendron salignum. There are hundreds of these all over the farm. At this time of year they glow in the dark, another plant that seems to absorb the sunlight and render it back to us on the darker days. Today was bright and they gleam in the early winter sun.

Leudadendron gleaming in the winter sunlight

Flowing Water and Fowers – 28 June 2013

Posted on June 29, 2013 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

Home. The desert sands of Qatar behind me at last. It was a shock to return to glorious green after the thick humid sandy air of Doha. It seems it’s done nothing but rain since we left home three weeks ago and the farm has a rich sodden feel to it, with water roaring through the river and tumbling down the waterfall. The roads are in need of maintenance, full of rivulets and potholes but the seeds I planted in the garden before we left have all sprouted into healthy young plants and the fynbos is settling into a winter burst of life. Seamus, the senior wolfhound, is joyous at my return and cannot bear to leave my side.

The dogs and I went for an evening walk, inspecting some of our usual routes, the dogs looking for new smells, and me looking for new flowers. We started down in the stream below the house that leads to the damn. The banks are lined with Arum Lilies at this time of year. Just as the luminous grasses have disappeared the lilies flower along the rivers and roads all winter and their beauty speaks for itself. We have a few months of them ahead, and there will be a lot more pictures to come.

Arum Lilies

The great thing about this blog is that it focuses the mind on home, on the magnificence of this land and the plants that grow here. I’ve seen Chasmathe all over the Cape, they remind me of the Montbretia that grown wild in Ireland, another South African wild flower that grows all over Ireland’s verges and banks in the summer. At first I thought it was the same flower but Montbretia doesn’t grow in this part of the world, it belongs further north in a summer rainfall area. This Chasmanthe is lovely, another of the anchors of a certain time of year, this winter time, when growth is rich and lush and yet only a herald of things to come.

Chasmanthe, most likely floribunda, but to be verified

When we moved to the farm eight years ago this little red creeper was one of the first flowers to awake my interest in fynbos. The flowers are tiny, smaller than my little fingernail and they appear suddenly in midwinter, winding around the stems of thicker fynbos. Despite their tiny size the jewel-like coral jumps out of the greenery and draws the eye. We will have them until mid-spring or later, all over the farm.

Microloma tenuifolium

We could hear the waterfall long before we saw it – with the rainfall we’ve had in June the rivers on the farm are roaring and the land feels replenished.

As we walked along the new road that leads to the waterfall this enchanting sight greeted us. I don’t know what to say or even think about the

pelargoniums; though are stunning, charming, and endlessly delightful the sub-species seem impossible to identify. Our new road is a pelargonium nursery and they thrive here all year round. At least this one allowed me to take a good picture – gracefully gleaming in the evening light.

Pelargonium – subspecies unknown

Pelargonium

The books have a few pelargoniums but they don’t seem to flower at the right time of the year. We have dozens and the best I can do is document them and find a real expert. Some of those that I’ve transplanted to the garden are doing really well, perhaps that will help. They are endlessly endearing. My grandmother grew them, pelargoniums and geraniums, nursing them through the Irish winters. She would have loved this place; not lush like Ireland with it’s dense choking green; more selective; intense; dramatic – she would most definitely have appreciated the drama. It was her birthday on 22nd June, just after midsummer. I was in Doha, so missed the shortest day of the year on the farm. Today is the shortest day we will see this year, and this is the most north-westerly sunset, far over the Paarderberg.

By mid-summer this sun will set far to the South of Table Mountain.

My love of botany is definitely inspired by her, and by my stepgrandmother, both of whom were dedicated and knowledgable horticulturalists. I thought of them both this evening as we descended in the gloom. Two women, one Irish, one English, both Catholic, both of whom were born in one world war and raised their children through the next. Gracious women, much loved, characters, who instilled in us both values and manners. They loved their gardens and gardening brought them together, unexpectedly and into a lifelong friendship. They admired one another and both of them would like to know they are remembered and that they continue to inspire us.

The Ericas are coming out all over the farm and I have not yet identified this one – a detailed book on Ericas as we as Pelargoniums is most definitely called for. The Erica family runs to 660 subspecies in the fynbos region, so we can’t expect to identify them all, but it will be fun to see how many we have on the farm and I will start a library page on them soon.

Pink and Golden Morning 29th May 2013

Posted on May 29, 2013 by fynbosblog One comment

A week ago we’d had only 10% of the average rainfall for May and I really worried that I’d be blogging about the dry winter and all the flowers we might be missing because of it. That may still be the case, but probably not because of the lack of rainfall in May, and if the predictions for the first two days in June are accurate, June should be accounted for almost before it starts.

I am learning to be grateful for the rain in Africa, though it doesn’t come easily to an Irish woman. Good rain here comes in 7 – 10 day waves and after a few days a break and a glorious pink and gold morning is truely welcome. This morning was such a one – blue sky with pink and gold tipped clouds, fresh air and dampness in the scent and on the ground. Happy dogs released from the contraints of the wet (largely spent on my bed) cavorting in the early light.

On our way up the mountain I saw this lovely pelargonium. It is quite distinctive though not one I can identify. We’ll call it the May Pelargonium as date of flowering is very relevant to ID. It is hard to convey the delicate charm of these flowering shrubs – they flower all winter, spring and summer and I have successfully transplanted a few to the garden. The flowers tend to be tiny and hard to photograph, in situ they charm completely, epitomising all that is delicate, fragrant and fragile.

The flowers on the mountain seem destined to confuse me and I have been worried about the Neirine I thought I’d seen. The petals of the Nerine turn back on themselves and I couldn’t see that in the flowers I posted the other day. As usual the flowers themselves came to my rescue. At the top of the farm, beside a path we take almost every time we go out, the same coral petals greeted me this morning, waving in the dawn light and the gentle breeze. Clearly, so very clearly, a member of the Gladiolus family, although this subspecies is not in my book. What an amazing colour. I’m glad it pops up in a couple of different places, it means there are probably a lot more of them on the farm, even if we don’t see them.

In my attempt to confirm the sighting I tried to climb down this afternoon to get a closer look at the flower on the bank – but failed, the bank got too steep and my nerve failed me. Heading up the farm in the afternoon light reminded me that at this time of year I miss a lot in the early mornings when these flowers are tightly furled, the colours invisible. During the day they unfurl and show themselves to the light. The Oxalis stud the entire farm in yellow, white, pink and blue, like stars everwhere. Their perfection is hard to photograph, the blues and pinks are easier than the white.

There are friends that enchant every day, and in the increasingly gloomy afternoon light as more rain swept in across the Western Cape, this shining golden yellow Leucodendron with a wild rosemary behind it makes me think again that our wild garden could not be bettered by the work of the best landscape artists. The shrubs find a harmony of their own. It is fun to find new things of course, but often the best pleasure is in this greeting of old friends in a new light.

The dogs gamely followed me down the slope as I tried to find our nerine/gladiolus and I was quite impressed at their tenancity. Climbing up was easier than climbing down and as we climbed we came across this Erica. It could be one of several tubular Ericas and I see that the need to acquire more detail reference books is becoming urgent. This captures it perfectly – it is not the most lovely example of these fascinating flowers, but I like it’s fleshy abundance and they are prolific and will be everywhere soon.

The Guernsey Lily and other stories –

Posted on May 26, 2013 by fynbosblog One comment

Writing this blog involves a lot of leafing through books trying to identify the flowers. My favourite and the best that I’ve found so far is called Field Guide to Fynbos by John Manning. It seems remarkably comprehensive, very detailed and I’m very grateful for it.

One thing I have learned is that small, daisy like purple and yellow flowers are quite hard to identify with pinpoint accuracy. The devil, as always, is in the detail. One has to note leaves, shape, colour, and plenty of tiny details involving the language of the botanist. The purpose of this blog is not to bore a reader with the science; at the same time reasonably accurate identification of the plants means I must learn something of it myself. As time goes on I should get better at it.

This has been a busy week and included some travel which means I’ve been out on the farm less than I like. Luckily here were a few flowers I found last Sunday that I hadn’t taken the time to identify and it’s a rainy Sunday today, the mountain unphotogenically covered in dense cloud, so it’s a good day to spend leafing through the reference books.

This stunning purple daisy-like flower looks like a Felicia, of which we have lots on the farm, though they are not quite in flower yet. Closer study reveals a white circle at the base of the petals which, combined with the shape of the petals (I really must take care not to become too much of a geek about this) makes me think it must be a subspecies of Senecio. It looks quite like Senecio Sophioides which is not due to flower until July but it could be a close relation. There are 80 fynbos subspecies of Senecio and not all are in the book.

I am a little more confident with the next identification despite the fact that the yellow daisy-like flower is the commonest of all, seen on lots of different shrubs. Still, this one is quite distinct so I’m going to identify it as Ursinia. Again it’s not flowering at quite the same time of year as the sub-species in the books, but it is quite distinctive for a yellow daisy-ish thing.

The day after I saw the Brown Afrikaner I saw another gorgeous bulb. When it comes to bulbs there are two exceptionally prolific areas (that I’ve identified) on the farm and luckily one of them is the bank along the drive. Running down the drive the other morning I caught a flash of red and stopped to see this; high on the bank above us. It’s a south facing bank which doesn’t get much sunlight at this time of year. I stopped several times as I drove up and down the drive and managed to catch one shot late in the day with the sun behind it. I’ll go and have a look this week if the weather improves but I don’t know if I’ll find more of these so although the photo isn’t great, I decided to publish it in any case. I couldn’t get close enough to identify it with pinpoint accuracy – I can’t believe I’m going to have to bring field glasses with me to identify flowers. I’m pretty sure it’s a Nerine though. It is a lovely thing.

Nerine Sarniensis or Guernsey Lily

There is a multitude of shrubs on the farm with shapes that are unique and rather strange; not familiar to anyone who grew up in the herbaceous gardens of Europe, even those filled with exotic flora. A feature of these, and we’ll have lots of examples over the coming months, is that the leaves grow close to the stem, all the way up a long stalk, with the flower heads clustered at the top. One of these is Metalasia Densa, coming into flower now, – a prolific flowering which will last for the next six months. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of these shrubs on the farm.

Arum Lilies, a dedication and 11 new species/subspecies

Posted on May 19, 2013 by fynbosblog One comment

On the 19th of May I think of my brother Mark, who’s birthday this is, and this blog is dedicated to him. Peonies are my favourite flowers because they bloomed in our garden the day he was born and I picked some to bring to the hospital the first day I met him.

Yesterday I took the dogs for a walk in the evening and as we crossed the dam wall I saw the first Arum Lily of the year. I’ve seen them on the roadside already; all winter the roadsides and fields are covered in them – amazing that something so rare and precious in Europe should be a common winter wildflower here. They thrive in watery places and the streams and banks on the farm are covered in them, hence this first sighting. Before our run this morning I took this photograph – the flower shimmered against the brown dam water – its perfection needs no embelishment.

Then off we went for our favourite weekend run. The northern boundry of the farm abutts the nature reserve and the lower slopes of the reserve are covered by a commercial pine forest. Crazy in this environment where the fynbos needs to burn every seven years or so in order to regenerate but if the forest goes up it will be a disaster, not least because there is a village in the middle of it. That said, we love it. On hot days it’s a joy to run through the forest’s dappled light and today was an unusually hot autumn day. Once we leave the property both wolfhounds go on the lead. I probably look a bit ridiculous running along with these two huge dogs, one of which weighs more than I do, but even with baboon sightings they are too polite to pull me over or the lead out of my hand. A passing cyclist generates no more than an enthusiast tug from the dogs, and pedals all the faster when he sees them. They are gentle giants but look quite fierce; this may be Africa, but I feel perfectly safe.

As we set off I was thinking that surely I wouldn’t find anything new on the farm – after all a few days ago I photographed everything I could see. Now I’m curious to see how the year goes, because in one day I’ve identified 11 new species and subspecies, not all of which I’ll talk about yet but still; 11. And as I think about it 12 because I saw the buds of one of very favourite flowers about to bloom and didn’t take a picture as the months to come will offer splendid opportunities to capture it at its best. Out I went thinking, probably won’t see anything new today and 11 new things pop up. This bodes well for our blogging year.

We ran later than usual so the Oxalis, mentioned in a previous blog, are all showing off in the glorious autumn sunlight and as soon as we left the house I notice this lovely yellow version, on the banks of the roadside and also in the lands, this in the last couple of days. There are 120 Oxalis fynbos subspecies so forgive me if I dont’ try and identify this one which doesn’t have a perfect match in my book.

While on the subject of Oxalis, I published a picture of one from the southern part of the farm which I described as unusual. Clearly I shall be humbled by this blog; this flower may be unusual on the southern boundry, but in the north of the farm these jewel-like flowers are everywhere. There is one road in particular which always has the best display of flowers and of course it is littered with these lovely pinky white stars. On closer study I believe it may be Oxalis Argyrophylla.

While photograhing those I noticed this creeping pink Oxalis with finer leaves and a creeping or rambling disposition. I can’t identify it but it is most certainly a different and very charming sub-species.

Ericas or heathers are one of the great marvels of fynbos and the flowers take many forms, often bells or trumpets, others less musical. The trumpets are to my mind the most beautiful of all – and this coral version has started to flower in the past week or so. The morning light was not good enough to capture it and I had a busy Sunday afternoon in the garden so I asked Peter to take me up to the top of the farm this afternoon to capture it in the southwestern sunlight.

This expedition led to several more sightings which I’ll share during the course of the week – too much for one blog. One thing I saw late last night, photographed this morning and again this afternoon is this tiny, delicate flower, of which I could find only one example in the middle of a fertile piece of road. Initially I thought it must be yet another of the 120 sub-species of Oxalis but on looking at this photo that’s clearly not the case; the leaves are all wrong. I think it must be Chaenostoma, yet those in my book are all shrubs and this is somewhat standalone. Perhaps this plant will develop over the years, or I shall find others that permit a more accurate identification. Delicate, delightful, terribly discrete and utterly charming.

Finally – what on earth is this? It looks like it belongs in a very smart herbaceous border, yet here it is, casually on the roadside, red berries glistening in the afternoon sun. Further investigation is clearly required and we need to see what the flowers look like. What a beauty. And if you look closely you will note the little violet wild lobelia flowers growing through it.