Look what they've done to my balcony...

As usual we spent the Christmas and New Year period in Germany. We left Italy just as a lot of European airports were being shut for snow, and thinking that it might turn south, I made sure to fill up the bird feeders before we left.

In fact, while most of the continent had a very white Christmas, Milan only had rain. That didn't deter the birds though. The great tits are clearly at the more respectable end of the bird community. They've been pecking their way gentilely through the peanuts,and I'm expecting a thank-you card to arrive soon. The sparrows, on the other hand, are a bunch of deliquents who clearly saw the bird-seed container as an invitation to vandalise the whole place.

The balcony looks as though a bomb has hit it, and I hate to think what I'm going to find growing in that container next year. On the plus side, I don't think I'm going to have to buy any fertiliser. By the time I've scraped up all the droppings, I'm going to have enough guano to last a couple of seasons...

In Germany, with all the snow that was around, the birds were virtually dependent on feeders and it was a great chance to spot a few types that we don't get here. Apart from the ubiquitous great tits and blue tits, I also saw some long-tailed tits, greenfinches and chaffinches, a nuthatch...

...and a tree-creeper.


Forgive the lousy photos - I had my camera on the wrong setting without noticing it.

There were various raptors around too. I saw a lot of buzzards in the woods, and a dead blackbird's head and mass of feathers in the snow on New Year's Day suggested we'd been visited by a sparrowhawk in the early morning.

Wordless Wednesday : Pine

I've never participated in Wordless Wednesday before. But this one seemed worth it. Taken in the pinewoods at Eraclea Mare. Click on it to enlarge it.

The Tree of Heaven ... or Hell?

I love this tree, particularly at this time of year when the red seed pods glow against the green of the leaves. This one is growing on the canal close to home. But wherever you are in this area you don't have to look far to find it. Usually though it looks like this...



It is one of the most invasive plants I know of. It seeds itself everywhere - including in the containers on the balcony. I pull out two or three every year. And as soon as a piece of ground is left undisturbed for aseason, up pop swathes of the young trees. Our local railway line is lines with them on both sides of the track, not a centimetre of space between them.
What are they? Ailanthus altissima, also known as Swingle or the Tree of Heaven - a reference to its height, which can reach 25m. But for anyone trying to keep it from taking over their land, a more appropriate name would probably be the Tree of Hell.

Other plants must think so too. They don't have a chance - it not only reproduces so rapidly because of the huge numbers of seeds produced, but also because it produces a chemical which inhibits the growth of other plants (1). Some trees just don't play fair.




If you've been looking at the photos and thinking But isn't that some sort of sumac? No, it isn't. Whilst the leaves look very similar, they are actually two different species. Not sure what you've got? Well, they say that if you break of a leaf of ailanthus, it smells bad. I tried it this morning ...

The leaf I picked came from this one. Last year as I was hoicking the self-sown seedlings out, I took pity on him and potted him up. He's been attacked by something in the past couple of weeks (a fungus??) and I've had to pull various of the leaves off, so while I was at it I had a quick sniff.

I couldn't smell anything, but then it's common knowledge that when the sense of smell was being given out, I was standing way out of line...

Introduced into Italy in 1760, as an ornamental plant, Ailanthus has now largely taken over in many areas. A report produced by the Italian Ministry of the Environment together with various other institutions (2) gives a detailed description of ten of the most invasive plants in the country. Of those ten, Ailanthus altissima is the only one shown as present in every single region in Italy.

And it's not just in Italy. It's become a pest throughout much of Europe. When I was in London this summer I noticed them growing in the park at the back of the house - somewhere I'd never noticed them before. They weren't very tall, but they were maturing fast. Once they start to seed, there'll be no stopping them.

And they're right behind the garden.

References

1. Ailanthus altissima - Wikipedia
2. Plant Invasion in Italy - An overview

Coypu

Now that the summer is showing signs of waning and the city is cooling down, I've been venturing out again occasionally for a walk. We were walking along the Martesana canal (1) last week, and talking about the ducks and moorhens, which seem to be more plentiful than usual this year, when someone said to us : Excuse me but do you know what that animal over there is?

Animal? On the Martesana? Apart from the occasional infestation of rats which the Council soon steps in to deal with, I've never seen any sign of wildlife on the canal. But yes, there they were - two little Coypu (2) happily going about their business on the far bank.

The coypu (Myocastor coypus)is widespread in Europe. A relative of the beaver, they're originally native to S. America, but are bred for their fur (and sometimes their meat, which is very low in cholesterol). Animals which have escaped from the fur farms have gradually colonised the continent. They are usually considered a pest - here in the north of Italy for the damage they do to the rice crops (Lombardy is the most important rice producing area in Europe) - but elsewhere for a range of reasons ranging from the destruction of other crops such as sugar beet, to the damage their burrow do to river banks, to the threat they pose to other species because of their impact on the environment (3).

But I'd never seen them, or even heard of them, in Milan. And I'd never noticed them on the Martesana before. True, I'd not been there very much for a couple of years - the canal path was closed while they built a new railway bridge for the high speed lines and, as always what was meant to take a matter of months went on .. and on... and on.

A quick bit of research on the net solved the mystery. It's all the fault of the recession.

When the recession hit, people stopped buying fur coats (at least one positive result, then). And rather than pay to have the animals put down, the fur farms often just released them. A few found their way to the Martesana and the population has been steadily increasing ever since.

And wow, has it been increasing. From nothing two years ago, the canal is now overrun by them. We didn't notice that day, but as I didn't have my camera with me (you never do when you want it, do you?) we went back the next day to try and get some pictures. Not that I had much hope - I was convinced that they'd have disappeared.

No way - as we walked down the canal, I estimate that we saw a pair every three or four hundred yards - and we walked for about two hours. I was amazed at just how quickly they'd established themselves.

So there you go - my London garden has its urban foxes, and here in Milan I've got coypu in the back yard. Almost like living in the country.

References

1. The Martesana Canal
2. Coypu
3. Global Invasive Species Database

Heron

It has been so hot here. Daytime temperatures have been up in the high 30°s C (97°F+), with humidity at around 50% plus. One night at 3.30am when I couldn't sleep, I checked and the temperature in the house was 31°C (88°F) and the humidity had reached 86%. Plants have been wilting fast, and so have people. We daren't open the windows at night because of the mosquitoes (including tiger mosquitoes) and so fans and air-conditioning have placed such a strain on the electricity supply, that blackouts have been frequent.

The only time that it has been possible to consider doing anything active has been around dawn (anti-mosquito lotion having been applied.) So just as it got light one day last week, Anthony and I grabbed the bikes and headed for the Parco Nord.

We weren't the only ones with the same idea - joggers, dog-walkers and other cyclists were out in force, despite the time of day. But not enough to frighten off the wildlife, which was also taking advantage of the few hours respite from the heat. We headed for the ponds, where we saw moorhens, turtles, shoals of fish, swallows and this grey heron.

We got quite close, and he didn't seem too fazed. But then he must have decided that enough was enough, and took off ...

Lombardy has two types of heron - the large Grey Heron that we saw, and the Little Egret - a smaller type, completely white in colour. Both types are fairly common in Europe (as well as Africa and Asia), but because Lombardy is an important rice growing region (the largest in Europe), they are particularly common here. They hunt in shallow water and, whether near rivers, canals, ponds,or flooded rice fields, both types are fairly easy to spot wading through the water in search of the frogs and fish that are their main prey.

I don't think I've ever seen one quite so close up though.

Orticola

It's not Chelsea, but Milan does have a flower show of its own in May. Called Orticola. Well, OK, not really a flower show, more a trade fair. There's no competitive element, and very little going on other than nurseries and other garden related organisations displaying and selling their products. I did see one demonstration of bouquet making, and there were a couple of areas dedicated to kids, but apart from that it was "just" commercial stands.

Which didn't stop me having to queue for fifteen minutes to pay my 7€ entrance fee to get in. Half of north Italy seemed to be there - making for a bit of a crush in the relatively small area dedicated to the 130 stands inside. I'm still not exactly clear about why I should need to pay for the privilege of having people sell me plants, but I stood dutifully in line to do so.

And, mean streak aside, it was worth it. I saw plants that I'd never be able to find in our local garden centre - and, mercifully, very few that I would. A couple of stands had stock balcony plants -pelargoniums, tagetes, surfinia etc - but always unusual varieties. And the prices were very, very reasonable, making me regret the fact that I'd been terribly strong when I was still at home and taken money out of my purse rather than putting it in... The easiest way to resist temptation, I thought.

Anyway, I wandered around going oooh and aah for a couple of hours. There were a lot of stands dedicated to one plant only. The hydrangeas in the top photo were probably my favourite, while the azaleas below were predictably "in your face"...

And there was even an entire stand dedicated to nasturtiums ...

Or you might fancy some peonies ..

.. great for winding round the maypole. Or is this supposed to be some sort of bridal bower?

There were some more original stands though. If you fancy having chickens in the back garden but are afraid the neighbours will complain, how about these ...

And if you keep a dog outside, how about a green roof for his kennel?

The same stand also had an amazing green wall - unfortunately, it was so amazing that it was surrounded by hordes of people, making it really difficult to get a decent photo.

But I think the stand that wowed me the most was this one, dedicated to water features. Don't know how much luck they had in selling - with the mosquitoes we have here, no-one in their right minds would want a water feature in their garden. But, at the back of the stand, was the most amazing plant - Gunnera mannicata. Not, sadly, right for the balcony. But I stood and looked at it for a long time. Double click on the photo to understand better why it grabbed my attention.

So what did I buy? Well, I was very restrained (apart from not taking very much money, I also had to carry them home on the bus). But I did come away with a couple of salvia faracinea - my attempts to grow them from seed failed miserably this year - two astilbes, one white and one pink, and a heuchera. Not bad for 25€.

And then there's always the catalogue. It has the web addresses of all the exhibitors in it. And a lot of them seem to sell on-line ... tee hee :)

Wisteria

There's a part of me that would kill for this balcony ...

I love wisteria. And my dream is an old house in the country with wisteria growing up the walls. But despite that, I don't think that I shall be introducing it here.

First of all because it's not really a balcony plant. Even here it's not really growing on the balcony - it's been planted in the garden and then trained up.

It must have been planted when the house was built, given the size of it and the width of the trunk.

It's been trained up carefully, and the branches have then been supported under and along the balconies themselves.

Wisteria can be planted in containers - but the container plus the vine might soon get too heavy for the balcony. If you're balcony gardening and intend to use large containers, it's worth finding out how much weight your balcony can support - according to my architect husband, on the type of balcony we have here it's usually around 250-300 kilograms per square foot. Remember though that you need to allow for the weight of the people who might be standing on the balcony too. It's not just the containers.

Then there's the problem of time. Wisteria takes up to 20 years to flower if grown from seed and, some sites suggest, 4-5 or more if grown from cuttings. Even if you've got the patience to wait, space limitations on a balcony mean you might not want to have a non-flowering plant hanging around that long.

And even when it does start, you'll have a superb display for a couple of weeks in the spring and then all the balcony space taken up for the rest of the year. I'm not sure it's worth it.

It seems to me there are two possibilities - firstly to train it as a standard. The RHS site explains how. It will still reach small tree size, but as long as your balcony can take that much weight, it should solve the space problem.

Or it can be grown as a bonsai. Now I've never been really into bonsais. It's always seemed too much like foot-binding to me. but in this case I have to say I'd be sorely tempted ...

Meanwhile I'm just going to take a short walk up the road at the end of April each year, and stand and gaze at this one. I think it deserves a prize for brightening up the city.

Skywatch Friday : Sea and Sky

If you want to go surfing, the Adriatic coast is not the place to be. The wide flat sands mean the water is extremely shallow - in some places you can walk out for a good distance from the shore and still only be up to your knees. Put this together with the relatively enclosed geography of the sea, and if the weather is good you normally get millpond conditions.

The nine days we spent there were nearly all hot and sunny. But there was one day when the wind got up.

The area is famous for a wind known as the Bora, which blows about 40 days a year and affects both the North Italian and Croatian coasts. It's caused by an area of high pressure from the polar regions meeting warmer air from the Adriatic. It frequently gets up to over 120km an hour, and though nothing like that when we were there, was strong enough to force me off my bike.

The winds whipped up a few waves, and I was able to get these photos of the sea and the sky for Skywatch Friday. Enjoy.

If you want to see some other great photos contributed to Skywatch this week, check out this pic of the sky over a lake and mountains in Austria or this sunset over Annapurna. They make mine look feeble.

Dead Man's Lagoon

Have you ever fallen in love with a place at first sight? It happened to me last week. After we'd gone back to Italy, my son and I went back to Eraclea Mare for a week at the sea. We'd been there last year and loved it (see here), but what we didn't realise was that we'd missed the best bit.


Eraclea Mare is situated not far from Venice, along the north west Adriatic coast. You probably know that Venice itself is built on a lagoon, but in fact lagoon areas extend much further up the coast. There is one, for instance at Caorle, where we used to spend our holidays until we discoved Eraclea, made famous by Hemingway who used to go duck shooting there.



Eraclea's lagoon is different. It's smaller - only two square kilometers, is (thankfully) a nature reserve, and until 1935 didn't exist at all.

La Laguna del Mort (Dead Man's Lagoon) was formed when the River Piave, which used to run parallel to the sea for a couple of kilometers, overflowed its right bank, flooded the strip of land between the river and the sea, and changed course overnight, reaching the sea a couple of kilometers further up. The land between the old mouth of the river (pic above) and the new (below) became a lagoon.

Why didn't we explore it last year? Firstly because we had the rest of the area to get to know, and secondly because I was aching too much after a morning on horseback to contemplate the bike riding or walking necessary to get there. This year all the work in the garden in London must have made me fitter - I managed to do both.

From the village you can either cycle through the fields to the far end of the lagoon, or walk along the paths which lead through the sand dunes and pinewoods which border the wetland area. We did both, several times, and in later posts I'll blog about the plants and the wildlife we saw there. But for now, just enjoy the landscape.

Why the name? Not sure. If the net is to be believed there was once a corpse in the lagoon which every so often would rise to the surface to frighten passersby. Hmm - none of the local people seemed to have heard of that one. They appeared to think the "death" referred to the death of the river (though I've translated the name as Dead Man's Lagoon, a more literal translation would be The Lagoon of the Dead One, so it's not impossible). That seems strange though, as the river didn't actually disappear. I'm keeping an open mind.

We were there at the end of the season, and on a cloudy day. We had the place almost to ourselves. The beach however is well-known for being a naturist beach and (again if the net is to be believed) a rather steamy one at that. Oh well, the beach is separated from the lagoon itself by sand dunes and I guess it's big enough for both naturists and naturalists. I for one shall be going back.