Twenty years later.

A sea of earth with the outline of paths dug out. The Botanic Garden as a work in progress.
The area now called Phylogeny.

This year marks the twentieth year the University of Bristol Botanic Garden has been at The Holmes.  I started working for the Botanic Garden twenty-four years ago when it was on the edge of Leigh Woods; I had no idea I’d be at the Botanic Garden for as long as I have, or that I was signing up to huge moving operation, none of us did. I could spend a long time describing how we moved the Garden from one place to another, the hours and hours of digging, creating, and planting; but in a moment where we can stop and ponder the passage of time, I think the main thing we’re all most proud of is what the Garden has become. (more…)

Lichen through the looking glass

By Andy Winfield

Orange crustose lichen and green foliose lichen on a fallen tree branch
The array of lichen life on a fallen cedar branch.

I’ve recently started noticing lichen. Now I can’t stop noticing it; it’s everywhere, living on, and in multiple surfaces. Walking around Bristol it’s on the harbour walls, the loch gates, on holiday it’s on the rocks of the cliffs and hanging from trees. Lichen covers around 8% of the planet’s surface area, and so could be argued that it’s one of the most successful collaborations in the natural world.  When you do start noticing, you want to keep noticing, and get in closer with a little hand lens, a looking glass. (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.

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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…)