Minus 2 degrees here this morning, which is an improvement on yesterday’s minus 7 but still pretty cold. A fieldfare has arrived in the garden. He’s taken possession of our large, not-very-ornamental crab apple tree and is chasing the blackbirds away from the remaining fruit, keeping it all for himself. I don’t begrudge him this, partly because it’s been lying around for a couple of months now without attracting much interest from the other birds, and partly because he’s so smart – like a big thrush, but with a bluish head and  crisp eye markings that make him look slightly grumpy.

Luma apiculata

Cork oak after de-barking

If you’ve popped a champagne cork this Christmas or New Year, or even if you’ve just enjoyed a bottle of red, spare a thought for the cork before you drop it in the bin. What is it? And where does it come from?
 There have been a couple of recent TV programmes about the wildlife living in cork growing areas of Spain and Portugal, so you may be ahead of me here, but the first cork oak I ever saw was in Gosforth Church yard, which my Dad would take us to see when we were on holiday in the area years ago. I can’t remember if it’s still there (perhaps someone will write and tell me) but I can remember a sense of disbelief when he told us that the corks in bottles came from tree bark. Forty odd years later, walking in the hills of Andalucia in Spain last year, we came across fields full of Mediterranean cork oaks, recently harvested for their bark, and standing like painted soldiers in the dry, autumn fields. At first I thought maybe they’d been treated with something to help them recover from losing their protective bark, but apparently this bright, brick-red colour is natural, darkening as the bark begins to grow again.
Cork oak bark is harvested in rotation, once every nine years or so, after which it’s left to re-grow. The trees don’t seem to suffer at all, though most appeared to have been pruned to reduce their height and make harvesting easier. The bark has to be harvested by hand, with a sharp axe especially designed for the task; it’s hard to imagine a machine capable of doing the same job.
 The bark on the cork oak (Quercus suber) may be interesting, but it’s not really attractive to look at; you probably wouldn’t want to grow one in your garden. For an attractive winter display, you’d be better to go for one of the ornamental maples, like Acer davidii, the snake-bark maple, or Acer griseum, the paper-bark maple. Alternatively, if you’ve got the space, the bark of mature Eucalyptus trees can be superb, a mottling of blue, green and brown that’s almost like camouflage paint. 
 Arbutus unedo, the strawberry tree, is smaller, with the most beautiful russet-brown bark, whilst the trunk of the ornamental cherry Prunus serrula is a rich, glossy red. My favourite though, is the bark of Luma apiculata (which used to be called Myrtus apiculata). It’s the colour of cinnamon, peeling to reveal patches of creamy under-bark; quite enchanting, but no use at all for stoppering that half-empty bottle…

Just like high-spec televisions or top-of-the-range computers, new plants can be very expensive when they first appear on the market. Look at the prices paid for Wollemi pines a few years ago, when they were first propagated from plants newly discovered in the Australian outback. The going rate was £500 or £600 if I remember rightly. But, as with TVs and computers, the price soon begins to come down; you can buy a Wollemi pine now for around £15. Sometimes prices fall because the rare plant can easily be propagated, and nurserymen are able to bulk up their supplies quickly. At other times prices fall because everyone who can afford to has bought the plant, so nurseries have to lower their prices to encourage others to splash out – supply and demand in action.

There are some plants, however, that remain expensive luxuries, either because they are difficult to propagate or because they are slow to grow on to a saleable size. With Christmas fast approaching, this may be the time to buy one of these luxury plants as a present for a friend or relative, or to drop some hints so they can buy you one! Here is my ‘top five’ list of the most desirable plants this Christmas (let’s hope my relatives are taking note…):

1. Acer davidii – the snake bark maple. A young tree of this maple will set you back over £30,
   

   Acer davidii

   but you’ll get your moneys worth in the coming years as the maturing bark develops its characteristic snakeskin effect.  In addition, there are pendant clusters of pinky brown seeds and rich orange-yellow autumn leaves at the turn of the year.

     2     For the smaller garden, how about a winter flowering witch hazel (Hammamelis). There are a number of different species and cultivars of available, retailing at between £17 and £70 depending on size and variety, with fragrant flowers in shades of yellow, orange and red. 

    3.   At around £3 to £5 a bulb, trilliums can seem really expensive when compared to daffodils retailing at £10 for a hundred. But, with their exotic foliage and rich purple or creamy white flowers, thes are plants to die for.

    4.   Figs – close your eyes and imagine picking your own ripe figs from a tree laden with sweet fruit. A bit of a pipe dream maybe, with our climate, but worth £20 for anyone with a big conservatory or a warm sunny wall.    

Ornamental Hawthorns                                                                             

Crataegus laciniata

If your garden is looking a bit dull and weather-beaten (well whose isn’t after this rough and tumble autumn) and you’re looking for a shrub or small tree to brighten it up, you should think seriously about planting an ornamental hawthorn. We tend to dismiss the hawthorn far too easily when it comes to selecting plants; perhaps because common hawthorn, or quickthorn, or Crataegus monogyna to give it its correct Latin name, grows in hedgerows all over the county, or perhaps because they’re too easy – all hawthorns are bone hardy, tough as old boots and happy to grow in all but the most vile of We planted a common hawthorn seedling by the side of the lean-to greenhouse a couple of years ago, to replace a decrepit laburnum and to provide a little shade for the greenhouse in the summer months. It has grown quite quickly, and this year even has a few dark red berries for the birds to nibble at (starters rather than main course for the moment). But maybe we should have been more adventurous with our choice.  I was looking round a garden in Ireland the other day, a lovely place with all sorts of interesting features and no end of autumnal grasses and other plants put in to extend the season for as long as possible. The star of the whole show was a hawthorn – Crataegus laciniata – a small tree smothered with the most delightful dusky orange-red berries.  

Crataegus laevigata 'Paul's Scarlet'

            Most hawthorns have fruit in various shades of red and crimson, though there are some exceptions. Crataegus flava, the yellow haw, has yellow-green fruit, whilst Crataegus tanacetifolia, the tansy-leaved thorn, has orange – yellow fruit. None of them have particularly large fruits; the largest berries probably belong to Crataegus punctata ‘Ohio Pioneer’, whose pear-shaped fruits are between ¾ and 1 inch long, which is three times the size of our common hedgerow berries. What they lack in size however, thorns make up for in quantity, producing great masses of colour throughout the autumn and early winter months.

            Hawthorns aren’t all about berries though. Some have good autumn colour, including Crataegus crus-galli, the cockspur thorn, C. x lavallei ‘Carrierei’, and C. pedicellata. Many have beautiful flowers; my favourites are Crataegus laevigata ‘Paul’s Scarlet’, whose flowers are a wonderful shade of crushed strawberry, and Crataegus laevigata ‘Plena’ which has double white flowers aging to pink. And some thorn blossom is fragrant – C. x mordensis ‘Snowbird’ and C. tanacetifolia are amongst the best.