Remembering to look

By Andy Winfield

Purple crocus flowering through grass and covered in raindrops.
Crocus tommasinianus.

The other day, I was walking through the Garden as a very heavy shower of rain had just finished. The landscape around me seemed to be looking up disgruntled, rainwater dripping down waterproofs, running down the path, off branches and twigs. Then the sun came out. The dark clouds carrying the rain were moving away behind me and the low January sun shone in my face. I stopped; between me and the sun were three low trees, and as the sun’s light travelled through them to me, the recent water glowed. It looked like the tree was made of water, so recently had the shower passed; I’d never really seen anything like it, and it reminded me to keep looking, even in darkest January, keep looking, otherwise we don’t see. This is the same with January and early February flower, they’re there, but we have to look. (more…)

Light in the darks days of winter

By Andy Winfield

A Robin sitting on a branch and looking back.

So, December has arrived, the two darkest months of the year are upon us; it’s normal for this time of year to get us down. On midwinter’s day there is just 7 hours and 49 minutes of daylight, almost exactly half the amount of light on midsummers day.  In the Garden and green spaces, it may seem that everything is in stasis, just sitting and waiting for four months until light levels are productive enough for leaves, but there is a lot going on in the ground and within those bare branches. (more…)

Tipping Point; the fire in the garden.

Three silhouettes in front of a firey scene with a reflection in a pool. By Andy Winfield

 

Fire has become a terrifying normality for many people around the world; a natural inclination for us here in the UK is to watch from afar and be thankful it isn’t happening to us. We all do it, look at the hurricanes, tornados, and fires with a furrowing of our brows and concern but deep down the safety for ourselves is at our core. In Tipping Point, an installation by Luke Jerram in early October this year, visitors were plunged into the reality of communities abroad by creating a simulation of a forest fire right here in the Botanic Garden.

(more…)

And we owe it all to leaves.

By Andy Winfield

A silhouette of acer leaves against a pale sky.

In summer a breeze will work its way through the boughs of a tree and the resulting sound is one of the constants in our lives, a white noise of leaves dancing on their stems. Right now, in autumn the leaves are at our feet, or swirling around corners, collecting at the foot of a tree, or at the base of a wall. Leaves stimulate all of our senses; we calm down merely by touching a leaf due to our innate evolutionary programming, and the sight of them emerging in Spring is enough to quicken our heartbeat. When we give leaves a bit of thought, it’s a wonder every tree and shrub doesn’t have a group of people staring up at them in awe. (more…)