Motivated by last year’s fern forays and spurred on by my new membership of the British Pteridological Society, I have decided to try something different this year: a personal challenge to see as many of Britain’s fern species as possible in a single year. The idea being that, by seeking out our ferns, I’ll learn more about them, their habitats, and the subtleties involved in identifying them. This blog will be part #5.
Adder’s-tongue – 17 April
Whilst there hasn’t been much time for fern hunting of late, things have been ticking along nicely. Although I have a few more exciting trips planned, much of my recent botanising has taken place closer to home, resulting in just two new finds. The first was Lady-fern Athyrium filix-femina, which is now beginning to appear almost everywhere. The second find was far more exciting.
Adder’s-tongue Ophioglossum vulgatum is a curious little fern, and one that never fails to raise a smile. I still remember the first time I encountered it, back in 2018, shortly after beginning work with the Natural History Society of Northumbria. During a visit to the Society’s Gosforth Nature Reserve, I was led a few paces outside the reserve gate by Paul, the warden, who directed me towards the low vegetation growing along the unassuming verge between the reserve and a busy main road.
Typically, Ophioglossum appears here in late April or early May, presumably responding to the warmer conditions of spring. This year, however, has been unusual. Many things, from Bluebells to emerging butterflies, seem to be running several weeks ahead of schedule. With that in mind, I decided to check that same verge outside Gosforth Nature Reserve and, hey presto…
Adder’s-tongue Ophioglossum vulgatum
An indicator of older, unimproved grassland where both it and its associated fungi flourish, this species has suffered greatly from agricultural intensification, nutrient enrichment, and the loss of traditional grazing regimes. Today, it tends to persist only in places where land management has remained relatively unchanged: damp pastures, species-rich meadows, coastal dunes, etc.
The fact that it survives on this unassuming verge is a testament to the work of NHSN volunteers, who do their best to ensure the grassland is not mown inappropriately, and to the fortuitously placed signpost which protects the small group of ferns growing in the sward at its base. It is always satisfying when a species falls neatly into place ecologically, and nicer still to see a plant growing happily in the same spot where I first encountered it almost a decade ago.
Adder’s-tongue Ophioglossum vulgatum on the same verge several years back
Running Total
Seeing as I rarely carry a notebook, we’ll log our running total for the year here…
Holy Island is a botanist’s paradise, famed for its orchids but also home to many other fascinating plants. Its dune slack flora, in particular, is a thing of beauty, though from the village to the shoreline and quarry, there are interesting things to see at every turn. For more information, I strongly recommend this book.
Please note that this page and other site features are a work in progress. More plants will be added as they are photographed.
Orchids
Lindisfarne Helleborine Epipactis sancta
The Lindisfarne Helleborine is one of Britain’s rarest orchids, known only from a small area of dune slacks on Holy Island. It is a delicate, often self-pollinating species, producing greenish flowers that are easy to overlook amid surrounding vegetation. Endemic to this single locality, it is a good example of how specialised and localised Britain’s flora can be.
Most sources now regard this orchid as a subspecies of the Dune Helleborine Epipactis dunensis, though either way, it is rather special.
Marsh Helleborine Epipactis palustris
Marsh Helleborine is arguably one of Britain’s most striking orchids, typically found in calcareous wetlands such as dune slacks and fens. Its elegant spikes carry numerous flowers, each with a distinctive white lip marked with pink and purple. It is rather conspicuous species when in bloom.
Although locally abundant in suitable habitat, it is sensitive to changes in hydrology and habitat quality, and so remains an important indicator of healthy wetland systems.
Frog Orchid Dactylorhiza viridis
Frog Orchid is a small and rather inconspicuous species of short turf, dunes and unimproved grassland. Its dense spike of greenish flowers, often flushed with brown or purple, can be easily overlooked. Formerly placed in the genus Coeloglossum, it is a distinctive orchid whose subtle colouring sets it apart from its more showy relatives.
The individual flowers are said to resemble tiny frogs, though that could equally apply to the muddy brown colour of many individuals.
Early Marsh-orchid Dactylorhiza incarnata
Early Marsh-orchid is a characteristic species of calcareous wetlands, including dune slacks, fens and marshy grassland. Its dense spikes of flowers range from pale flesh-pink to deeper purplish tones, often accompanied by unspotted, narrow leaves. Flowering earlier than many related species, it can be rather abundant throughout dune slacks on the island.
Several subspecies of Early Marsh-orchid are known, often defined by the colour of their flowers. These are not covered here, but a good resource can be found here.
Northern Marsh-orchid Dactylorhiza purpurella
Northern Marsh-orchid is a robust and variable species of damp grassland, dune slacks and coastal habitats, particularly in the north and west of Britain. Its dense flower spikes are typically rich purple, though paler forms occur, and the lower lip is roughly diamond-shaped.
Locally abundant in suitable conditions, this is probably the most abundant orchid on Holy Island. You would struggle to miss it in early summer.
Pyramidal Orchid Anacamptis pyramidalis
Pyramidal Orchid is a distinctive and often abundant species of calcareous grassland and dunes, occupying drier habitats than many of the species above. Its vivid pink flowers are borne in a tightly packed, pyramidal spike that gradually elongates with age, making it one of our most recognisable orchids. Flowering in early to mid-summer, it can form impressive displays in suitable conditions.
Whilst the typical form of Pyramidal Orchid is pink, white-flowered variants also occur on the island, albeit rarely.
Coralroot Orchid Corallorhiza trifida
Coralroot Orchid is a small and unusual species of damp woodland and dune slacks, often associated with mossy, shaded conditions. Lacking chlorophyll, it appears pale and leafless, deriving its nutrients from fungi in the soil rather than through photosynthesis. Even on Holy Island, it is a rare and quite special little plant.
Common Twayblade is a widespread and adaptable orchid of grassland, woodland edges and dune systems. It is easily recognised by its pair of broad, opposite leaves and its tall spike of numerous small green flowers.
Common Spotted-orchid Dactylorhiza fuchsii
Common Spotted-orchid is one of Britain’s most widespread and familiar orchids, occurring in grassland, dune slacks, woodland edges and roadside verges. Its flower spikes carry numerous pale pink to lilac blooms, each intricately marked with darker loops and spots, while the leaves are typically boldly spotted.
Holy Island is one of the few places, locally at least, where pure white Common Spotted-orchids are quite common.
Wildflowers
Pirri-pirri-bur Acaena novae-zelandiae
Pirri-pirri-bur, is a low-growing, mat-forming plant of coastal grassland and dunes, introduced to Britain from New Zealand. Its small, inconspicuous flowers give way to distinctive spiny burrs that readily cling to clothing and animal fur, aiding its spread. It is a prodigious weed on Holy Island, though one which can be encountered rather widely.
This species was introduced as a wool contaminant and was first recorded in the wild in the UK in 1901. The populations on Holy Island show a preference for fixed dunes.
Purple Milk-vetch Astragalus danicus
Purple milk-vetch is a low-growing legume of dry, calcareous grassland, including coastal dunes. Its compact clusters of rich purple, pea-like flowers sit above finely divided, grey-green foliage, creating a striking display in late spring. Now scarce and local in Britain, it is a species of considerable conservation interest.
It is classified as ‘Endangered’ in The Vascular Plant Red Data List for Great Britain due to a substantial decline since 1930.
Carline Thistle Carlina vulgaris
A distinctive plant of dry, calcareous grassland, including dunes and limestone slopes. Its stiff, spiny leaves form a low rosette, from which arises a striking, star-like flower head surrounded by straw-coloured bracts. Unusual among thistles, the flower heads open in dry, sunny conditions and close in damp weather, a trait once used as a natural weather indicator.
Seaside Centaury Centaurium littorale
Seaside Centaury is a delicate annual of coastal habitats, particularly dune slacks and salt marsh edges. Its slender stems bear clusters of small, star-like pink flowers that open in bright sunlight, adding subtle colour to short, open turf. It is quite widespread on the island but is perhaps best observed on the Snook.
Autumn Gentian Gentianella amarella subsp. septentrionalis
Gentianella amarella subsp. septentrionalis is a diminutive but striking plant of short, calcareous turf, including coastal dunes and grassland. This uncommon subspecies has pale white flowers, contrasting with the pink flowers of the common variety, and is confined primarily to coastal areas of Scotland and Northern England. It flowers later than most of the species on this list.
Henbane is a striking and rather sinister plant of disturbed ground, coastal dunes and waste places. Its large, sticky, foul-smelling leaves and pale yellow flowers, intricately veined with purple and marked by a dark centre, give it a distinctive and somewhat eerie appearance. Long associated with folklore and medicine, it is highly toxic and now a scarce and local species in Britain.
Common Sea-lavender is a characteristic plant of salt marshes and estuarine mudflats in southern England, but is altogether rarer in the North East. Here, it grows on the rocky shore of Cuthbert’s Isle, its airy sprays of small, violet flowers, each held within a papery calyx, can create a soft purple haze in summer.
The colony on Holy Island was (and may still be) the most northernly on the east coast of England.
Grass-of-Parnassus Parnassia palustris
This is a beautiful plant of calcareous flushes, fens and dune slacks. Its solitary white flowers, delicately veined with green and held above a basal rosette of leaves, are among the most elegant in the British flora. Flowering late in the season, it is a characteristic species of unspoilt, high-quality habitat.
Trifolium scabrum is a small annual of dry, open ground, particularly in coastal grassland and sandy soils. Its compact flower heads consist of tiny pink to whitish florets that can be easily overlooked among short turf. It grows in bare, open areas with little competition and can often be hard to find.
Scots Lovage is a robust coastal plant of rocky shores, dunes, cliffs and maritime grassland. Its fleshy, aromatic leaves and rounded umbels of greenish-white flowers are well adapted to salt-laden winds and exposed conditions. Largely confined to northern and western coasts, the colony of Holy Island represents its most southerly outpost on the east coast of Britain.
It is thought that drought sensitivity and the requirement for cold, wet conditions for germination may be responsible for limiting its spread to more southerly areas.
Rround-leaved Wintergreen is an elegant and rather local plant of dune slacks and fens. Its glossy, rounded evergreen leaves form a low rosette, from which rise slender stems bearing nodding, white, sweetly scented flowers. Often associated with base-rich, undisturbed habitats, it is a species of conservation concern.
This is a delicate creeping plant of damp, calcareous dune-slacks. Its slender stems bear small, rounded leaves and charming pink, striped star-like flowers that appear in summer.
Dwarf Mallow Malva neglecta
Dwarf Mallow is a low-growing, often prostrate plant of disturbed ground, pavements and waste places. Its rounded, shallowly lobed leaves and small, pale pink flowers with darker veins give it a modest but attractive appearance.
This one is rather plentiful around the village, where it occurs at wall bases and on areas of waste ground.
Common Butterwort Pinguicula vulgaris
Butterwort is a small carnivorous plant of wet heaths, flushes and calcareous wetlands. Its pale green, greasy leaves form a low rosette that traps small insects, supplementing its nutrient intake in poor soils. Above these, delicate purple flowers are borne on slender stems in early summer.
A naturalised introduction, Tree Mallow is a tall, conspicuous plant of coastal cliffs, islands and maritime grassland. Its large, softly hairy leaves and pale pink to lilac flowers are quite distinctive.
Tree Lupin Lupinus arboreus
Tree Lupin is a robust, shrubby plant of coastal dunes and sandy soils, introduced to Britain from western North America. Its tall spikes of yellow, pea-like flowers are often conspicuous, forming dense stands in suitable conditions.
While attractive, it can be invasive, altering dune habitats by fixing nitrogen and outcompeting native vegetation.
Parsley Water-dropwort Oenanthe lachenalii
Oenanthe lachenalii is a slender plant of coastal salt marshes and damp grassland. Its finely divided leaves and loose umbels of small white flowers give it a delicate, airy appearance in summer.
Rather rare on the island, it occurs scantily in a few permanently damp dune slacks but is nowhere common.
Milk Thistle Silybum marianum
Best found at the base of the Vicar’s Garden, Milk Thistle is a bold and distinctive plant of disturbed ground, roadsides, and coastal habitats. Large, glossy leaves display striking white marbling and sharp spines along their edges, while tall stems carry prominent purple flower heads that create an impressive sight.
Long associated with herbal medicine, it is likely a long-established introduction on Holy Island.
Brookweed Samolus valerandi
Brookweed is a small and rather unobtrusive plant of damp ground, particularly in coastal habitats such as salt marshes and wet flushes. Its low rosette of fleshy leaves gives rise to slender stems bearing tiny white flowers, each delicately marked at the throat. Easily overlooked, it is a characteristic species of open, periodically inundated ground.
Hare’s-foot Clover Trifolium arvense
A distinctive annual of dry, sandy soils, including dunes, heaths and disturbed ground. Its soft, cylindrical flower heads bristle with silky hairs, giving them a pale, silvery sheen reminiscent of a hare’s foot. It often thrives abundantly in open habitats, well-adapted to nutrient-poor conditions and sparse vegetation, and commonly appears throughout the village and harbour.
Blue Fleabane Erigeron acris
Blue fleabane is a slender and often overlooked plant of dry, open ground, including dunes, grassland and disturbed soils. Its small, daisy-like flower heads are composed of numerous narrow rays, often tinged with lilac or purplish hues.
Rather localised, this one is best looked for in the quarry area.
Hound’s-tongue Cynoglossum officinale
Hound’s-tongue, is a softly hairy plant of dry, often calcareous soils, including dunes, grassland and disturbed ground. Its dull reddish-purple flowers are borne in coiled clusters, while the elongated, velvety leaves are said to resemble a dog’s tongue, giving rise to its common name. The plant produces barbed burrs that readily cling to clothing and animal fur, aiding its dispersal.
Bugloss Lycopsis arvensis
Bugloss is a rough, bristly annual of arable land, sandy soils and disturbed ground. Its small blue flowers, borne in coiled clusters, resemble those of forget-me-nots, though the plant itself is far coarser in texture.
Now much declined due to agricultural intensification, it is a scarce and local species of open, low-nutrient habitats.
Marsh Pennywort Hydrocotyle vulgaris
Marsh Pennywort is a creeping plant of damp grassland, marshes and dune slacks. Its rounded, coin-like leaves are borne on slender stalks, forming spreading mats across wet ground.
This one is rather common across the island and can be found in most areas of suitable habitat.
Common Broomrape Orobanche minor
Common Broomrape is a curious parasitic plant of grassland and dunes, most often associated with clovers. Lacking chlorophyll, it appears as a leafless spike of pale brown to purplish flowers, drawing all its nutrients from the roots of its host.
Shoreweed Littorella uniflora
Littorella uniflora is a small and specialised plant of clean, nutrient-poor waters, typically found along the margins of lakes, pools and dune slacks. Its tight rosettes of narrow, fleshy leaves often grow submerged or on wet sand, making it easy to overlook. The tiny, inconspicuous flowers are borne singly on short stems
Ferns, Horsetails & Clubmosses
Small Adder’s-tongue Ophioglossum azoricum
Small Adder’s-tongue is a minute and easily overlooked fern of short, often coastal grassland and dune slacks. It typically produces a single, simple frond alongside a slender, fertile spike, both close to the ground.
This is a very rare plant in Northumberland; thus no information on location is provided.
Variegated Horsetail Equisetum variegatum
Variegated Horsetail is a distinctive species of damp, often calcareous habitats, including dune slacks and lake margins. Its stiff, jointed stems are marked with characteristic black-and-white banding at the nodes, giving it a striking appearance. Often forming low, spreading patches, it is well adapted to open, seasonally wet conditions.
Lesser Clubmoss Selaginella selaginoides
Lesser Clubmoss is a small and rather moss-like plant of damp grassland, heaths and flushes. Its delicate, creeping stems are clothed in tiny leaves, giving it a soft, low-growing appearance. Though easily overlooked, it is rather abundant across suitable habitats on the island.
Grasses, Rushes & Sedges
Sand Cat’s-tail Phleum arenarium
A small annual grass of dry, sandy soils, particularly in coastal dunes and disturbed ground. Its short, dense, cylindrical flower spikes resemble a miniature cat’s tail, giving rise to its common name. Localised and easily overlooked, it is well adapted to open, shifting substrates with little competition.
Black Bog-rush Schoenus nigricans
Black Bog-rush is a distinctive plant of base-rich fens, flushes and dune slacks. It forms dense tussocks of wiry stems topped with clusters of dark brown to black spikelets, giving it a characteristic appearance. Often dominant in suitable conditions, it is incredibly abundant on the Snook, where it forms dense drifts across damp depressions close to the car park.
Flat-sedge is a low-growing plant of damp, calcareous grassland, fens and dune slacks. It forms small tufts of flattened stems bearing neat rows of brown spikelets, giving it a distinctive, orderly appearance.
A rare plant regionally, it is by no means scarce on Holy Island.
Long-bracted Sedge Carex extensa
A characteristic plant of coastal salt marshes and maritime grassland, the flowering stems bear distinctive, leaf-like bracts that extend well beyond the spikelets, giving it a recognisable appearance. Tolerant of saline conditions, it is a typical species of the upper marsh and transitional coastal habitats.
Saltmarsh Rush Juncus gerardii
Saltmarsh Rush is a characteristic species of coastal salt marshes and upper shore habitats. It forms dense tufts of stiff, grass-like stems, often dominating areas subject to regular salt spray and occasional inundation. Its compact clusters of small brown flowers are subtle but rather frequent once you get your eye in.
A robust plant of brackish wetlands, including salt marshes, estuaries and coastal lagoons. The tall, triangular stems of Sea Club-rush bear clusters of brown spikelets, often forming conspicuous stands in shallow water or wet mud. Spreading by rhizomes and tubers, it can be locally dominant in suitable areas.
Hareshaw Linn, with its beautiful waterfall and steep-sided wooded banks, is an interesting place to visit whatever the season. Its flora, comprising many ferns and ancient-woodland indicator species, is distinctive and broadly representative of Northumberland’s upland gorges.
Please note that this page and other site features are a work in progress. More plants will be added as they are photographed.
Asplenium trichomanes subsp. pachyrachis, a rare subspecies of Maidenhair Spleenwort, is a small fern of rocky, calcareous habitats, confined to just a few places in the UK. It is identified by its dark, wiry stipe and rachis, bearing rows of small, rounded pinnules with noticably scalloped margins.
This is the rarest of the three Maidenhair Spleenwort subspecies found in the UK and is restricted entirely to a few areas of limestone rock, Hareshaw Linn being one of them. It is easy to spot close to the site’s waterfall.
Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis
A delicate fern of damp, shaded woodland and upland habitats. It is recognised by its soft, triangular fronds, with the lowest pair of pinnae spreading outwards and slightly downwards. Often forming loose colonies, it favours moist, acidic soils and is a characteristic species of undisturbed woodland, often in the uplands.
Oak Fern Gymnocarpium dryopteris
Oak Fern is a light and delicate fern of damp, shaded woodland and upland habitats. It is identified by its pale green, triangular fronds, divided into three main parts, giving it a soft and airy appearance. Often forming loose patches on moist, acidic soils, it is a characteristic species of cool, shaded, upland environments.
Green Spleenwort Asplenium viride
A small fern of rocky, often calcareous habitats, including cliffs, screes and limestone outcrops. It is readily identified by its bright green rachis, which distinguishes it from similar species with darker stems. The short fronds bear rounded pinnules, and the plant typically grows in crevices in exposed but sheltered rock faces.
Brittle bladder-fern is a delicate fern of rocky habitats, walls and shaded crevices. It is identified by its finely divided, lacy fronds and its fragile stems, which break easily when handled. The small, rounded sori on the underside of the fronds are covered by bladder-like indusia, giving the species its common name.
Polypody Polypodium vulgare
A familiar fern of rocks, walls, tree trunks and woodland banks, recognised by its leathery, pinnate fronds with rounded lobes and the neat rows of circular sori on the underside. Often growing in mossy crevices or on old stonework, it is a widespread and rather prominent plant at this site.
Hard Shield-fern Polystichum aculeatum
Hard shield-fern is a robust evergreen fern of woodland, hedgebanks and rocky slopes. It is identified by its dark green, glossy fronds with stiff, sharply pointed pinnules that give the plant a rigid appearance.
Separating this one from Soft Shield-fern can be tricky, but look for the Hard Shield-fern’s stiff, leathery texture and sessile pinnules (lacking a distinct stalk). Soft Shield-fern has a soft, limp feel and an abruptly ending (truncate) frond base, and distinctly stalked pinnules.
Lemon-scented Fern Oreopteris limbosperma
A graceful fern of damp heaths, moorland and open woodland. It is recognised by its soft, pale green fronds and the fresh lemon scent released when the foliage is crushed. The fronds are broadly triangular, and the sori are arranged close to the margins on the underside.
Narrow Buckler-fern Dryopteris carthusiana
Narrow Buckler-fern is a delicate fern of damp woodland, flushes and wet heaths. It is identified by its narrowly triangular fronds with finely divided pinnules, giving the plant a light and feathery appearance, and can be separated from Broad Buckler-fern by its straw-coloured scales that lack a dark central stripe.
Borrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreri
Dryopteris borreri is the commonest member of the Dryopteris affinis complex and is distinguished by its soft-textured, semi-deciduous fronds that typically end in an abruptly squared-off base.
Other key features include its flat-topped pinnules with prominent “cat’s ear” teeth on the outer corners, fully stalked basal pinnules, and diffuse veins that frequently show pale blotching in the surrounding leaf tissue
Broad Buckler-fern Dryopteris dilatata
In damp woodland and along shaded banks, Dryopteris dilatata is one of the more conspicuous ferns. The large, broadly triangular fronds arise in dense clumps and are finely divided into many small segments. The scales covering the stipe (stem) are brown with a dark central stripe, separating them from Narrow Buckler-fern.
Hart’s-tongue Asplenium scolopendrium
Hart’s-tongue stands apart from most British ferns in having long, undivided fronds rather than divided leaflets. The glossy, strap-shaped leaves form dense clumps on shaded banks, damp woodland floors and old walls. Beneath the fronds, the sori appear as paired, diagonal lines, a distinctive feature of the Asplenium.
Hard Fern Blechnum spicant
Hard Fern [left] is a distinctive evergreen fern of damp woods, heaths and upland habitats. It forms low rosettes of spreading sterile fronds, from which arise taller, narrower fertile fronds that stand upright in the centre. The pinnae are stiff and evenly spaced, giving the fronds a neat, comb-like appearance.
Lady-fern Athyrium filix-femina
A graceful and delicate species of damp woodland, stream sides and shaded banks. Its fronds are soft, pale green and finely divided, often arching outward to form loose, airy clumps. The sori are small and curved (J-shaped), helping separate it from most other ferns.
Wood Horsetail is a delicate species of damp woodland, shaded banks and stream sides. Its slender stems bear numerous fine, drooping branches which, unique among horsetails, are branched again, giving a soft, feathery appearance.
This rare little shrub is associated with the spate zone of shaded river and streamsides in north-eastern England, Cumbria, and north-eastern Scotland. It looks a lot like the common Red Currant but can be separated based on its mat and rather dull, dark green leaves that are held at right angles to the stem. Helpfully, the petiole or leaf-stalk is he petiole is green in Downy Currant but orange-ish in Red Currant.
Herb-paris Paris quadrifolia
Herb-paris is a distinctive woodland perennial recognised by its single whorl of four broad leaves set at the top of an upright stem. From the centre arises a solitary greenish flower with narrow sepals and a cluster of prominent yellow stamens. Later in the season, this develops into a single dark blue-black berry, a key feature that makes the species unmistakable
Marsh Hawk’s-beard Crepis paludosa
Marsh hawk’s-beard is a tall perennial of damp woodland, flushes and stream sides. The bright yellow flower heads are borne in a loose cluster, and the upper leaves clasp the stem with rounded, backwards-pointing auricles. Beneath the flower heads, the involucral bracts carry black glandular hairs, while the fruits are distinctive pale achenes that are ten-ribbed, hairless and lack a beak.
Marsh Hawk’s-beard is most typically found in constantly cool, damp, moist sites, such as near waterfalls, by upland streams, on wet, north-facing cliffs, and in narrow, shady ravines.
An odd one to include here perhaps, but Good-King-Henrey is a prominent feature of the walk towards Hareshaw Linn, occurring in fields close to the carpark.
This one forms clumps of large, triangular to arrow-shaped leaves, often with a slightly mealy surface beneath. The green flowers are small and inconspicuous, produced in dense spikes above the foliage, later developing into clusters of tiny fruits.
Betony Betonica officinalis
Betony is an attractive perennial of grassland, woodland edges and heathy slopes. It forms a basal rosette of softly hairy, oval leaves with rounded teeth, from which rise square stems typical of the mint family. The bright purple flowers are crowded into a dense terminal spike, making the plant rather conspicuous when in bloom.
Yellow Pimpernel Lysimachia nemorum
Yellow Pimpernel is a delicate creeping perennial of damp woodland, stream banks and shaded ground. Its slender, often rooting stems spread across the soil, bearing opposite, rounded leaves on long stalks.
The small, bright yellow flowers are borne singly in the leaf axils and look rather lovely in early summer.
Moschatel Adoxa moschatellina
A small woodland perennial that appears early in spring on damp, shaded woodland floors. It forms patches of soft, deeply divided leaves from creeping rhizomes, often carpeting the ground before the tree canopy closes.
The tiny greenish flowers are arranged in a distinctive cube-like cluster, with four facing sideways and one on top, giving rise to the nickname “town-hall clock”. The flowers are faintly musky-scented, reflected in the species name moschatellina.
Wood Crane’s-bill is a tall perennial of damp meadows, woodland edges and upland grassland. The stems carry deeply divided, palmate leaves and relatively large violet-purple flowers with darker veins and a pale centre. The fruits develop into the characteristic long “crane’s-bill” seed head typical of the genus.
Sanicle Sanicula europaea
A woodland perennial typically found in shaded, base-rich woods and along hedge banks. It forms clumps of glossy, palmately lobed basal leaves from which arise slender stems bearing small, rounded heads of pinkish-white flowers.
Unlike most members of the carrot family, the flowers are arranged in tight umbels rather than open sprays. The fruits are covered in hooked bristles that aid dispersal by attaching to passing animals.
Common Cow-wheat Melampyrum pratense
Common Cow-wheat is a slender annual of acidic woodland, heaths and moorland edges. Its narrow opposite leaves line the delicate stems, while the pale yellow tubular flowers are borne in the upper leaf axils, often accompanied by reddish-tinged bracts. The species is semi-parasitic, drawing nutrients from the roots of neighbouring plants, particularly grasses and shrubs.
Grasses & Sedges
Wood Melick Melica uniflora
Melica uniflora is a graceful perennial grass of shaded deciduous woodland and hedge banks. Its slender stems carry a delicate, open panicle of drooping spikelets, each typically containing a single fertile floret. The broad, soft leaves and nodding inflorescence give it a distinctive appearance among woodland grasses.
Remote Sedge Carex remota
Remote sedge is a slender sedge of damp woodland, shaded stream sides and wet ground. It forms loose tufts of narrow leaves, with thin flowering stems bearing widely spaced spikelets along the upper portion. This well-separated arrangement of spikelets gives the species its name and helps distinguish it from similar woodland sedges.
Motivated by last year’s fern forays and spurred on by my new membership of the British Pteridological Society, I have decided to try something different this year: a personal challenge to see as many of Britain’s fern species as possible in a single year. The idea being that, by seeking out our ferns, I’ll learn more about them, their habitats, and the subtleties involved in identifying them. This blog will be part #4.
My First Filmy-fern – 19 March
I’ve been rather forgetful of late and haven’t got round to writing one of these posts for a while, but I am, of course, still fern hunting.
On Friday, a rare shared day off gave Matt and me the perfect excuse for a short trip north in search of a plant I’ve wanted to see for many years: Tunbridge Filmy-fern Hymenophyllum tunbrigense.
This is a fern with very particular tastes. It depends on constant humidity and is highly vulnerable to drying out, growing only where cool, damp, shaded microclimates persist – deep rock fissures, caves, or permanently wet stone. Such conditions are in short supply in the North East, which goes some way to explaining its rarity here. By contrast, it is much more frequent in the humid Atlantic woodlands of western Scotland and parts of Cumbria. Even so, it does occur in a handful of quiet corners of our region.
As ever with rare species, I won’t be sharing precise details. Suffice it to say that, after a little searching, we were rewarded with a thriving colony. The plants here were confirmed as Tunbridge Filmy-fern by the irregularly toothed margins of the indusia, visible in the first image below.
Tunbridge Filmy-fern Hymenophyllum tunbrigenseTunbridge Filmy-fern Hymenophyllum tunbrigenseTunbridge Filmy-fern Hymenophyllum tunbrigense – you can see the indusia if you squint
When we think of ferns, we tend to picture the large, arching fronds of Dryopteris, rising in characteristic shuttlecocks from the woodland floor. Tunbridge Filmy-fern could scarcely look more different. At a glance, it could easily be mistaken for a moss or liverwort and overlooked entirely.
Look closer, however, and it is unmistakably a fern, and a rather beautiful one at that. The fronds are thin and delicate, twice-divided and almost translucent, with a subtle glaucous, bluish cast. That translucence comes from their structure: each frond is just a single cell thick, giving rise to the distinctive “filmy” appearance.
It is a quietly remarkable plant and a real treat to see at long last. Another species ticked off the botanical bucket list…
Tunbridge Filmy-fern Hymenophyllum tunbrigense
Running Total
Seeing as I rarely carry a notebook, we’ll log our running total for the year here…
Wow, after more than five years of combing the streets of Newcastle, identifying plants and trying rather hard to piece together a legible book, The Urban Flora of Newcastle and North Tyneside is finally complete!
If you follow me on social media, you’ll know this has been quite a fun week, and one which has definitely surpassed the expectations of this slightly bewildered urban botanist. First, there was a lovely piece of coverage in the Journal, followed by a delightful short Country Diary entry from Susie White, and later that day, very welcome blogs from the Natural History Society of Northumbria and the Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland. Not a bad spot of coverage for what is, by my own admission, a rather niche little book.
The good news didn’t stop there. On Monday, I had the privilege of giving a talk at Newcastle University, officially launching the Flora for more than 100 NHSN members. A recording of this can be found below.
I am incredibly grateful to the authors, platforms and organisations mentioned above who have helped spread the word about my little passion project, and to all of the people and groups on social media who have shared it further (there have been rather a lot of you!). Because of you, it seems some people have actually been buying the book, which is both humbling and a little terrifying to see. Whether it ends up on a few dozen bookshelves or a few hundred (I am rather hoping for the latter), I am simply delighted that people might enjoy reading about Newcastle and its wild plants. There are rather a lot of them to contend with.
Now that things have cooled down a little, I wanted to use this opportunity, and this blog, to offer a few well-deserved thank yous to those who helped along the way. From a book perspective, John Bullar was an incredibly patient and helpful designer. Karl Egeland-Eriksen superbly filled the rather large gap in my knowledge that is geology, and several people, Charlotte, Ellie, Sacha and Matt, kindly helped with proofreading along the way. Then there was the photography, much of which can be attributed to Chris Barlow, who has helped enormously with documenting the city’s plants.
Truthfully, the Urban Flora owes a great deal to many people. To the recorders across Newcastle who shared records, to those who joined me on walks and surveys, and to the many people who encouraged me during my all too frequent wobbles, thank you. Many of these individuals are listed in the acknowledgements, but as it’s likely more people may read this post than see the physical book, I wanted to repeat my gratitude here.
Reflecting on it all, I am immensely proud of the project and the final result. There will undoubtedly be errors, issues and the odd typo (have I ever mentioned that I’m not a writer?), but more importantly I think I have achieved what I hoped to at the outset: to create something that landowners, conservation organisations and local groups can use to understand the plants on their land, and that local people might use to find and enjoy a wide selection of these for themselves. The data gathered will hopefully be put to good use, and perhaps some people will find it genuinely interesting as well.
All that said, that’s a wrap. My husband is certainly glad to have regained most of his weekends, and I will now have to contend with rather more free time now that it’s over. I’m sure I’ll find something else to occupy me…
If you are inspired to purchase a copy of the book, it is available now on Amazon and via the Natural History Society of Northumbria. Links to which are found below.
Motivated by last year’s fern forays and spurred on by my new membership of the British Pteridological Society, I have decided to try something different this year: a personal challenge to see as many of Britain’s fern species as possible in a single year. The idea being that, by seeking out our ferns, I’ll learn more about them, their habitats, and the subtleties involved in identifying them. This blog will be part #3.
Asplenium x clermoniae – 26th January
On Sunday, a trip north into rural Northumberland provided a welcome opportunity to check in on one of the rarest and most intriguing ferns in North East England: Lady Clermont’s Spleenwort Asplenium × clermontiae – a hybrid I hadn’t seen since 2023, when I published a short blog about it here.
To cut a long story short, this is an exceedingly rare hybrid between Wall-rue Asplenium ruta-muraria and Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes subsp. quadrivalens. On paper, it ought to be more widespread, given the abundance of its parent species, but this is very much not the case. In fact, it is currently known from just three individual plants across the entirety of the British Isles. The Northumberland plant has been known since the early 2000s and has been visited by many pteridologists over the years.
It is a rather unruly-looking fern, showing characteristics of both parents, and so far as this year’s pteridological challenge goes, an excellent one to notch up early on.
Lady Clermont’s Spleenwort Asplenium x clermontiae
A short distance away, another unassuming wall played host to a second rare little spleenwort, though not quite so rare as the species mentioned above. Rustyback Asplenium ceterach is common in many parts of the UK but decidedly scarce in the North East and, despite an abundance of seemingly suitable habitat, remains confined to a small number of quarries and walls across the region. I do wonder whether climate plays a part. In North Northumberland, it is a Rare Plant Register species, meaning it should be reported whenever encountered.
A lover of limestone rocks and lime-rich mortar, this species is easy to identify thanks to its thick, leathery, almost once-pinnate fronds and the dense covering of rust-coloured scales on the underside. The images below show one of two plants observed during a brief pit stop at a well-known site.
Another species down…
Rustyback Asplenium ceterach
Running Total
Seeing as I rarely carry a notebook, we’ll log our running total for the year here…
Motivated by last year’s fern forays and spurred on by my new membership of the British Pteridological Society, I have decided to try something different this year: a personal challenge to see as many of Britain’s fern species as possible in a single year. The idea being that, by seeking out our ferns, I’ll learn more about them, their habitats, and the subtleties involved in identifying them. This blog will be part #2.
Woodland Ferns – 17th January
By January, our woodlands are not looking especially vibrant. Cold, wet, and muddy, they are far removed from their spring splendour, and by this point in the year, most of our ferns are looking rather jaded too.
With this in mind, yesterday saw us meandering through Jesmond Dene, keen to see what could still be picked out in the depths of January. As expected, most of the ferns looked rather gnarled by the frosts, but in sheltered spots our two most familiar woodland species could still be found.
Broad Buckler-fernDryopteris dilatata, with its broad, wedge-shaped fronds and dark-centred scales, was easily located, as was Male-fernDryopteris filix-mas with its tapering fronds and toothed pinnules. These are perhaps our most abundant native ferns both will look far better come spring.
Broad Buckler-fern Dryopteris dilatata, with its broad, wedge-shaped frondsMale-fern Dryopteris filix-mas with its tapering fronds and toothed pinnules.Toothed, tapering pinnules of Dryopteris filix-mas
Continuing our walk, it was also pleasing to see several healthy clumps of Hart’s-tongue Asplenium scolopendrium looking altogether more robust and vibrant than the straggly individuals spotted on walls during our previous outing.
A healthy example of Hart’s-tongue Asplenium scolopendrium clinging to a bank.
Another group of evergreen woodland ferns still visible at this time of year are the Polystichum species – the Shield-ferns. Our two native species are both fairly common in shady woodland settings and are easily recognised by their distinctly “mitten-shaped” pinnules. They can be told apart by a combination of features, most notably the overall shape of the frond (gradually tapering versus ending abruptly), whether the pinnules are stalked, and the angle of the lowest pair of pinnules (obtuse vs acute).
In images one and three below, we have Soft Shield-fernPolystichum setiferum: soft to the touch, with a truncate base and pinnules set at an obtuse angle. The third image shows an escaped cultivated form, noticeably more frilly in appearance – a reminder of the interesting things we humans have done to ferns. Note in both examples, the pinnules are stalked. This is also a useful factor in separating these species, as set out in the helpful crib here. A good blog on the two native species can also be found here.
Pinnules of Polystichum setiferum, soft to the touchA cultivated form of Polystichum setiferum with very frilly foliage.I did toy with the idea of this plant being the hybrid of Soft and Hard Shield-ferns but alas, I think it just P. setiferum
Close to the first Shield-fern, we also noticed a rather lovely Polypody Polypodium sp clinging to a bridge. I have learned through bitter experience how difficult it is to separate these species on visual characters alone, so having collected a small sample, I’ll be checking the spores later. Stay tuned for another post on those.
A nice Polypodium species clinging to the stonework of a bridge.
Last but not least on our morning walk through Jesmond Dene, we stopped to check in on a more unusual fern, first noted last year while recording for my upcoming Urban Flora of Newcastle. At first glance, you might notice that it looks rather similar to the Soft Shield-fern shown previously – and that’s because it is, albeit a little more exotic in nature.
This plant is, in fact, Japanese Lace FernPolystichum polyblepharon, a widely cultivated garden species that appears to have found its way into the Dene of its own accord. This young plant is growing on a steep, muddy bank where deliberate planting seems highly unlikely, and so can presumably be counted towards this year’s fern fest. As mentioned previously, non-native ferns will count provided they appear to be self-sown.
Japanese Lace Fern Polystichum polyblepharon, an oddity of Jesmond Dene
Right Back at It – 23rd January
After work on Friday, I opted for a rather rainy afternoon walk back into the Dene, this time venturing a little further to see what I could find. It was pleasing to come across another Polypodium, this time growing on a tree, though it lacked the spores needed for identification.
Polypodium species growing on a moss-covered tree in Jesmond Dene
Further along the Ouse Burn, the challenge’s next “new” fern became apparent: Hard Shield-fernPolystichum aculeatum, with its sessile, acute-angled pinnules and tapering fronds. This is one of the scarcer of the ‘common’ ferns in my part of Newcastle, so it’s always nice to see.
Young Hard Shield-fern Polystichum aculeatum clinging to a slopePinnule shape of Hard Shield-fern Polystichum aculeatumA larger specimen of Hard Shield-fern Polystichum aculeatum
In the same area that held the shield-fern, it was also pleasing to find two slightly straggly examples of the once-pinnate Hard FernBlechnum spicant. This species needs little introduction.
Hard Fern Blechnum spicant in Jesmond Dene
Slightly more perplexing are the Scaly Male-ferns Dryopteris affinis agg. These were always going to be the most difficult group to contend with during this year’s fern challenge, and no matter how much time I spend looking at them, they still manage to confuse me. Inevitably, I find myself examining a great many specimens before eventually settling on one that matches the descriptions in the various resources stuffed into my rucksack – most of which contradict one another to some degree.
The two common species involved are Borrer’s Scaly Male-fern Dryopteris borreri and Western Scaly Male-fern Dryopteris affinis subsp. affinis.
A selection of Scaly Male-ferns in Jesmond Dene
D. affinis subsp. affinis is soundly evergreen, so as a first step, I looked for a fern that still appeared reasonably fresh for mid-January. Having succeeded, it was time for a closer inspection. As far as I recall, affinis is the only one of the common Scaly Male-ferns to have an adnate lowest basiscopic pinnule (that is, lacking a stalk). It also has rather lucid veins that extend all the way to the pinnule margin, and lowest pinnules on each pinna that are roughly the same size as their neighbours, unlobed and rounded at the tip.
The fern shown below seemed to fit this description, at least in most respects. With a degree of trepidation, I’m therefore calling it Dryopteris affinis subsp. affinis.
Lowest pinnules of Western Scaly Male-fern Dryopteris affinis subsp. affinisLowest basiscopic pinnule of D. affinis
In contrast to affinis, D. borreri has stalked lowest basiscopic pinnules and lowest pinnules that are slightly longer than their neighbours. These are also toothed at the corners (in the typical form, at least) and show slightly more diffuse venation that stops short of the pinnule margins. All quite straightforward in theory.
Taking a frond from one slightly more convincing example and examining it more closely, most of these characteristics are present, particularly in the shape of the pinnules. However, I don’t yet feel that I’ve fully got to grips with the differences in venation. The plant I tentatively labelled as affinis does not appear identical to examples I have seen online. This borreri, however, shows the pale blotching often mentioned in the literature, which is reassuring.
Lowest pinnules of Dryopteris borreriPale blotching between veins that (largely) stop short of the pinnule margin
We’ll certainly have to revisit these before attempting any of the rarer ferns within the complex, but hey, practice makes perfect (or so I am told).
Running Total
Seeing as I rarely carry a notebook, we’ll log our running total for the year here…
Motivated by last year’s successful fern forays, and spurred on by my new membership of the British Pteridological Society, I have decided to try something different this year: a personal challenge to see as many of Britain’s fern species as possible in a single year. The idea being that, by seeking out our ferns, I’ll learn more about them, their habitats, and the subtleties involved in identifying them.
The premise is simple: any fern growing in a wild situation counts, as do subspecies, hybrids, and species accepted by the major authorities. I will do my utmost to document each new find here, beginning with easily accessible species and, hopefully, progressing to trickier ones further down the line.
Urban Ferns – 16th January
It seemed reasonable to kick-start this year’s pteridological challenge with something low-key and ordinary. Thus, a search for wall ferns was on the cards.
On a typical street in Newcastle, there are four or five ferns that commonly occur on walls, most of which belong to the genus Asplenium. What I find especially interesting about Asplenium is that it is a genus of polar opposites. Perhaps half a dozen species are so widespread as to seem almost mundane, while others rank among our most elusive ferns, known only from a few carefully guarded sites. When it comes to the former group, the good news is that you don’t need to travel far to find them.
Skulking along some Heaton terraces, it wasn’t long before we came across our first species: Wall-rueAsplenium ruta-muraria, growing snugly in the mortar. Around fifteen plants clung to the wall, many stunted but unmistakable on account of their small, fleshy, club-shaped fronds. It is an easy species to recognise, and one of the commonest of our ferns.
A healthy clump of Wall-rue Asplenium ruta-murariaA pitiful example of Wall-rue Asplenium ruta-muraria growing alongside Hart’s-tongue
Mixed in among them were examples of Maidenhair SpleenwortAsplenium trichomanes, its fronds borne on dark, wiry stems and clustered in tight tufts within the mortar. While easy to recognise at first glance, there is more to this little fern than meets the eye. What we collectively know as Maidenhair Spleenwort is, in fact, an aggregate of three subspecies, each occupying its own ecological niche. Two of these are rather rare; the third is incredibly common.
Distinguishing between the subspecies requires attention to detail: the shape of the pinnules, the point of insertion of the stalk, the colour of the rachis, and the angle of growth against the substrate. Truth be told, it is a fiddly, detailed, and at times frustrating affair – though it is possible to cheat. The simplest shortcut is habitat. The commonest subspecies, quadrivalens, is a calcicole: a lover of lime. In the wild, it grows on calcareous rocks, but it is equally at home in the lime-rich mortar of brick walls. The second, trichomanes, is a much rarer plant of acidic rocks, typically confined to upland areas and occasionally encountered on dry-stone walls. The third, pachyrachis, is so scarce that it barely warrants consideration here, though for completeness it favours damp limestone and is restricted to just a few corners of the British Isles. By process of elimination, our plant could only be subsp.quadrivalens – a conclusion quickly confirmed by the insertion of the stalk at the corner of each pinnule.
A sorry example of Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes subsp. quadrivalensA healthier colony of Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes subsp. quadrivalens on a sheltered wall
Where these two species occur, a third often appears as well, though it rarely looks healthy when growing on walls. Hart’s-tongueAsplenium scolopendrium may tolerate such habitats, but it much prefers the shade and humidity of woodland, where it typically grows on mildly alkaline soils. Perhaps our most recognisable native fern, with its glossy, lime-green, tongue-like fronds, it presents few challenges. It is also a particularly useful Asplenium for demonstration purposes. The specific epithet scolopendrium is derived from the Greek skolopendra, meaning centipede – an allusion to the arrangement of the sori on the underside of the frond in parallel lines, a key feature of this genus.
Hart’s-tongue Asplenium scolopendrium emerging from an exterior wall
Moving on to another terrace, along another street lined with delightfully neglected student front gardens, there was one more species on the day’s agenda. Another Asplenium, though one that, in my experience, is typically harder to come by: Black SpleenwortAsplenium adiantum-nigrum. Unlike the wall specialists already encountered, this species is not a strict calcicole. Instead, it favours base-enriched substrates containing modest amounts of calcium or magnesium. For this reason, it is often found on mortared walls, though it grows equally well on natural rock faces and on ruins built from basic stone. It is common in many parts of Britain, but here in the North East, it is by no means abundant.
While it took some finding, after a short while, we managed to locate one small, rather pitiful example peeking out from a crevice. It will do for now!
A stunted example of Black Spleenwort Asplenium adiantum-nigrum on a neighbor’s wall
Running Total
Seeing as I rarely carry a notebook, we’ll log our running total for the year here…
This is the snowdrop most likely to be encountered on woodland walks and the species most frequently grown in gardens. The Common Snowdrop Galanthus nivalis is a hardy plant, native to parts of Europe from the Pyrenees eastwards to Ukraine, where it favours shaded, sloping woodland and commonly grows alongside trees such as oak, ash, and elm. Although non-native to the UK, it is a much-loved species. The exact date of its introduction is unclear, but it was known in cultivation in Britain by 1597 and had appeared in the wild by 1778.
Befitting its common name, the Common Snowdrop is the most widely cultivated of all Galanthus species, with an extraordinary number of cultivars and forms available. It has also been used extensively in hybridisation and may, when growing close to species such as Galanthus plicatus, give rise to hybrids in the wild.
If you encounter snowdrops growing in great drifts in churchyards, woodland, or on country estates, they are, in most cases, nivalis.
Identification
In a wild state, Galanthus nivalis is the only snowdrop occurring in the UK with narrow, glaucous leaves – less than the width of your little fingernail – and applanate (opposing) vernation. Look a little closer, and you’ll often notice that these narrow leaves twist slightly to one side as they mature. Compared with the other snowdrop species found wild in the UK, it is quite distinctive: Galanthus elwesiihas broad, blue-grey leaves; Galanthus woronowii has bright green leaves; and G. plicatus shows characteristic pleating along the margins. Easy peasy.
When it comes to the flowers, the typical form bears a simple inverted V-shaped mark on the inner petals, although, as you’ll see under varieties, this can vary considerably.
In cultivation, G. nivalis can be confused with a handful of other narrow-leaved snowdrops, though these are relatively rare. The only other common species with glaucous leaves and applanate vernation is Queen Olga’s snowdrop Galanthus reginae-olgae. Crucially, however, this species usually shows a pale, silvery stripe running down the centre of the leaf. In addition, G. reginae-olgae subsp. reginae-olgae flowers in autumn, well before the typical flowering time of G. nivalis. The same is true of the rare but superficially similar Peshmen’s snowdrop Galanthus peshmenii – a collector’s species that flowers in autumn before the leaves are visible.
A rather typically Common Snowdrop with narrow, glaucescent leavesNote the typical green ‘v-shaped’ marking on the inner petalTypical flower of G. nivalisG. nivalis is the species most likely to form drifts as seen here
Varieties
There are quite literally hundreds, if not thousands, of G. nivalis varieties in circulation, and without a collector’s eye, many can appear very similar, differing only in subtle details. Keeping things broad, some representative forms and cultivars include:
Viridescent forms of G. nivalis, in which the flowers are variously marked with green. Well-known examples include ‘Viridapice’, ‘Modern Art’, and ‘Green Tear’, though similar variants are often found in the wild.
G. nivalis ‘Sandersii Group’, the famed “yellow snowdrop”, first encountered in Northumberland, in which the usual green markings on the inner petals and the colour of the ovary are replaced by yellow.
G. nivalis ‘Flore Pleno’, the familiar double-flowered form that is regularly encountered among wild and naturalised populations.
The double-flowered form G. nivalis ‘Flore Pleno’ discarded over a garden fence
Confusion Species
We covered the differences with G. reginae-olgae above, but a more likely source of confusion is Galanthus × valentinei, the hybrid between G. nivalis and G. plicatus. This hybrid is widespread in cultivation and also occurs frequently among naturalised populations. It typically has broader leaves than G. nivalis, with shallow pleats towards the base, though these are not as pronounced as in G. plicatus.
G. × valentinei has been extensively cultivated, but one form that appears with some regularity and may escape across the garden fence is Galanthus ‘Atkinsii’. Discovered by the Gloucestershire nurseryman James Atkins and introduced in the 1860s, its exact parentage remains unclear, though it likely includes G. plicatus. As Mick Crawley notes, this cultivar can often be recognised by its long, drooping outer petals.
Pleated leaves of G. plicatus – hybrids will have similar pleats near the baseApplanate vernation of G. reginae-olgae with faint pale stripe visible
It’s New Year Plant Hunt time again – that time of year when citizen scientists across the country head outdoors to see which wild plants are flowering in the depths of winter, all with the aim of tracking how plants are responding to our changing climate. Led by the BSBI, this fun and accessible project takes place over four days each New Year and is now in its fifteenth year. It continues to grow in popularity and offers a great excuse to get outside, stretch the legs, and blow away the cobwebs after an indulgent festive season. As ever, this year I’ve been out once again, so I thought I’d share a round-up here.
The Annual Heaton Hunt
The New Year Plant Hunt has become something of a tradition in our household. For the last five or six years, we’ve undertaken a ‘hunt’ among the terraces and alleyways of Heaton in Newcastle. More recently, we’ve begun leading this loop as a guided walk for members of the Natural History Society of Northumbria, and this year we were joined by 16 keen botanists.
These extra pairs of eyes proved invaluable, with 65 species spotted in flower during our allotted three hours – a pretty impressive total for Northern England and, at the time of writing, the tenth-longest list submitted in the UK this year.
Admiring the flowers of Adria Bellflower Campanula portenschlagianaSearching for the tiny flowers of Procumbent Pearlwort Sagina procumbensI always wonder what my fellow locals must make of a large group of botanists patrolling the streets early on New Year’s Day
Our Heaton route is largely characterised by an abundance of familiar urban ‘weeds’, species one would expect to encounter in built-up areas at any time of year. Among the most prolific were Oxford Ragwort Senecio squalidus, Mexican Fleabane Erigeron karvinskianus and Welsh Poppy Papaver cambricum; though we also noted all but one of the BSBI’s top 20 common winter plants.
A few early-flowering species were also recorded, including Common Snowdrop Galanthus nivalis and Early Crocus Crocus tommasinianus, both of which are well-established in a local park.
Male and female flowers of Hazel Corylus avellana – a NYPH stalwartWelsh Poppy Papaver cambricum is always a cheery one to findMexican Fleabane Erigeron karvinskianus can always be relied onTrailing Bellflower Campanula poscharskyana is another fixture of the NYPHThe local Snowdrops Galanthus nivalis were particularly early this year, flowering by 15 December
While most of the species encountered were to be expected, a few surprises turned up during the morning’s walk. Among these was White Melilot Melilotus albus, found in flower on a strip of waste ground near an Asda supermarket. Atlas Poppy Papaver atlanticum also occurred as a garden escape in several places. This species is a relatively recent arrival in Newcastle but is clearly on the rise.
Elsewhere, a few unexpected native species included Tansy Tanacetum vulgare, Creeping Thistle Cirsium arvense and Meadow Buttercup Ranunculus acris, all of which would normally have stopped flowering by now.
Meadow Buttercup Ranunculus acris was not one I had anticipatedSticky Groundsel Senecio viscosus was a welcome discoveryTansy Tanacetum vulgare was not one I expected to see in mid-winterAtlas Poppy Papaver atlanticum is not quite as common as other Papaver species but is clearly on the riseWhite Melilot Melilotus albus is an uncommon plant in Newcastle so was particularly nice to see
So, all in all, we had a very pleasant morning plant hunting. It is always exciting to botanise in urban spaces, and even better when joined by such lovely company. I’ll be out and about a few more times in the coming days, visiting regular haunts at St Peter’s with yet more NHSN members, and hopefully North Shields too, so I look forward to sharing further updates soon.
If you would like to join in with the New Year Plant Hunt, you can do so here.
Galanthus woronowii occurs as a native species in north-eastern Turkey and across the Caucasus region, extending into parts of Georgia and southern Russia. The species was named in 1935 by the Russian botanist A. S. Losina-Losinskaya in honour of the botanist and plant collector Georg Jurii Nikolaewitch Woronow (1874–1931). It was described from plants collected in southern Russia, near the town of Sochi on the eastern shores of the Black Sea.
In cultivation, G. woronowii is valued for its vivid green leaves and flowers, though it has long been confused with other green-leaved snowdrops in gardens and collections. Indeed, it is still occasionally sold by garden centres under the name G. ikariae – a considerably rarer species.
Although G. woronowii is not yet as widely grown as G. elwesii or G. nivalis, its popularity is increasing rapidly. It is also appearing more frequently as a garden escape or discard in many areas, as reflected in its distribution map. Somewhat surprisingly, it is now the snowdrop I encounter most often in the wild after the ubiquitous G. nivalis.
Identification
G. woronowii is a bulbous perennial with nodding white flowers in which the inner tepals bear a single green apical mark, distinguishing it from species with more extensive or multiple markings. The leaves are broad, glossy and bright green, emerging in a supervolute vernation – one leaf tightly wrapped around the other in bud and typically remaining clasped at the base as the plant develops.
Although similar in general appearance to G. ikariae and the much rarer G. platyphyllus, G. woronowii can usually be distinguished by its smaller, less extensive green markings on the inner tepals (an inverted V-shape rather than the “boxer shorts” marking of G. ikariae) and by its brighter green foliage. Careful observation of leaf texture and tepal shape can further aid in the separation of these species.
Wrapped leaf bases of G. woronowiiBroad, green, shiny leavesGalanthus woronowii naturalised in woodlandGalanthus woronowii on a Newcastle verge
Notable Varieties
Thankfully, there are not too many forms of G. woronowii to contend with, although new cultivars and selections are beginning to appear for sale and may, in time, find their way across the garden fence. Two of the most popular currently are:
G. woronowii ‘Elizabeth Harrison’, the first yellow woronowii, notable for its bright yellow ovary
G. woronowii ‘Cider with Rosie’, which features a pale green horseshoe-shaped marking on the outer segments.
Confusion Species
Galanthus woronowii differs from G. ikariae in both its inner segment markings and leaf colour. In G. woronowii, the green mark on the inner segment is short and confined to the lower half of the segment, whereas in G. ikariae the mark is much larger, typically covering more than half the length of the segment. The leaves of G. woronowii are light to medium green and usually glossy or slightly shiny. By contrast, the leaves of G. ikariae are medium to dark green and generally matt.
An interesting green-tipped woronowii with darker green markings than ‘Cider with Rosie’An emerging clump of Galanthus woronowii in a Newcastle woodland
Galanthus elwesii occurs in southeastern Europe, around the Black Sea, and across much of Turkey. It was first described in 1875 by Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker, Director of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, who named it after the plant collector, Henry John Elwes (1846–1922).
Galanthus elwesii is probably the most commonly cultivated species after G. nivalis, thanks to its long history in cultivation, adaptability and wide availability. It is an extremely variable plant, having been imported into Europe in large numbers over many years. Striking and attractive, it is robust, decorative, free-flowering and generally easy to grow – perhaps explaining its enduring popularity.
Alongside the common G. nivalis and a few much rarer species, G. elwesii is also one of the snowdrops most likely to be encountered in the wild in the UK, particularly in churchyards where original plantings have been left to naturalise over extended periods.
Identification
As far as snowdrops go, G. elwesii is relatively easy to recognise due to its size – it is far larger than the typical G. nivalis. It has broad, glaucous leaves (around 3.5 cm wide) with a hooded tip, large flowers, and bold markings on the inner segments. Its vernation is supervolute, with one leaf always clasped around the other at maturity.
The green markings on the inner petals are variable but generally fall into three broad types. Commonly, plants may display two separate marks on each segment, located at the apex and base. When this is the case, the apical mark is usually V-shaped, and the basal mark is typically rectangular. Other varieties have a single large mark spanning most of the petal; this mark is often X-shaped, making it quite distinctive. The third type frequently seen in cultivation has only a single V-shaped apical mark.
Wrapped leaf bases of G. elwesiiBig, broad, glaucous leaves and large flowersG. elwesii var. elwesiiG. elwesii var. monostictus
Varieties
There are a great many cultivars of G. elwesii, as well as many hybrids with it as a parent. These are beyond the scope of this post, but fortunately, all retain some of the identification features described above. It is, however, helpful to assign your G. elwesii to a recognised variant when possible. The two you’re likely to spot are:
G. elwesii var. monostictus, which has a single apical green mark that rarely extends beyond half of the petal.
G. elwesii var. elwesii, which has either two green marks or a single large X-shaped mark on the inner petal.
Confusion Species
Galanthus gracilis, a rather rare species in cultivation, is somewhat similar to G. elwesii but displays applanate vernation and has narrow leaves, around 1 cm wide. Other than this, the main identification challenge comes from hybrids involving G. elwesii. One that appears from time to time is Galanthus × hybridus, the cross between G. elwesii and G. plicatus. This hybrid has leaves resembling G. elwesii but narrower, with shallow pleats along the margins – a feature inherited from G. plicatus.
A healthy clump of G. elwesii left to establish in a Newcastle park
It will come as no surprise to readers of this blog that I’ve developed a slight obsession with ferns of late, centred on both tracking down and identifying wild ones and growing them at home. Despite that, I hadn’t yet tackled the seemingly difficult process of growing ferns from spores. At least, not until this year.
Fern Biology
Ferns are among our most primitive plants, and their reproduction, while fascinating, is less sophisticated than that of flowering plants. Cutting a long story short, spores are produced on the underside of the frond in structures called sori (or a sorus if referring to just one).
Ferns are interesting in that they have two distinct life stages. The first is the gametophyte, or sexual stage, in which the spores grow into a curious, shield-like structure called a prothallus. It looks a bit like a tiny green fish scale and, in truth, rather resembles a bryophyte, but with minute pockets that hold the egg and sperm. When conditions are right, fertilisation takes place, with sperm swimming through water droplets to reach the egg of another prothallus. Only after this stage does what we think of as a “proper” fern develop, as the plant enters the second phase of its lifecycle.
Keen to try this myself – and having sufficiently swotted up with a range of fantastic resources online [here] and [here] – I decided to give it a go this summer. Time for an update!
Lemon-scented Fern Oreopteris limbosperma showing ripe spores in the pinnule margins
Gathering Spores
Ferns produce spores at different times of the year, though most seem to be ready between June and September. It’s fairly easy to tell when they’re ripe: in most species, the sporangia curl back or fall off entirely, revealing brown, yellow, or even black dust – the spores. Gathering them is incredibly simple. You can either tap a fertile frond over a paper envelope or collect a small section of the frond; a little goes a long way. If you choose the latter, it’s best to let it dry on some paper for a few hours, after which you’ll notice the spores beginning to fall and gather on the surface.
For this little experiment, I gathered spores from a mix of cultivated plants growing in the garden including Brittle Bladder-fern Cystopteris fragilis, Rustyback Asplenium ceterach, Soft Shield-fern Polystichum setiferum, Scaly Buckler-fern Dryopteris remota, and Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis; as well as a few common wild species growing in public spaces (remember, you need permission to collect even the smallest hint of plant material from private land). In the end, this meant I collected spores from Western Scaly Male-fern Dryopteris affinis subsp. affinis, Borrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreri, and Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes too.
Sowing the Spores
Having gathered our spores, it was time to sow them. This, it seems, is the stage you really need to get right. First, you need an airtight container that seals in moisture and provides the humidity required for the spores to germinate (we used a multipack of cheap plastic Tupperware). Secondly, you need a fine, sterilised compost. We opted for a fine seed compost, zapped in the microwave for three minutes to kill any nasties lurking in the soil. Other sources suggest that pouring boiling water through the compost or placing it in the oven works just as well.
With your materials prepared, all that remains is to sprinkle on your spores, give them a good spritz of water, label the container, and replace the lid before leaving it somewhere bright for nature to run its course. In our case, we placed all our containers under fluorescent grow lights used for our houseplants.
Watch and Wait
Next comes the hard part: ignoring your containers until you notice signs of life. I didn’t manage this perfectly, which may explain some of the problems mentioned later in this post. Generally, sources online suggest that different ferns take varying amounts of time before any activity becomes visible. I was pleasantly surprised that after only a month, each of our test containers hosted a fine, green, algae-like film spreading across the soil. This was the first sign that our spores were starting to grow into prothalli.
Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis forming prothalli after one month under supplimentary light
Watch the Prothalli Grow
Eventually, after a variable amount of time depending on the species (around three to four months for most of ours), the initial green, algae-like growth began to transform into the shield-like structures recognisable as prothalli. At this stage, the fern grows its first roots and begins to photosynthesise, and it is also the point at which the all-important fertilisation happens, if you’re successful. To help with this, sources recommend a regular spritz of water to aid cross-fertilisation, something that would normally be provided by rain outdoors but must be administered manually when growing ferns indoors. The photos below show a range of more advanced prothalli.
After some time, these prothalli develop into the sporophyte generation, the form we most closely associate with ferns.
Borrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreri prothalliThe rather large prothalli of Borrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreri
Signs of Life
Fast forward to early winter and most of our ferns have now begun transitioning into their sporophyte generation. Some, such as Beech Fern and the larger Dryopteris species, are lagging behind, with only the tiniest hint of their first fronds visible. Others are positively romping away, particularly Brittle Bladder-fern which has already warranted the relocation of larger plants to individual pots (again in sealed containers) for growing on over winter. I have also been impressed with Soft Shield-fern.
As we now have so many young ferns growing in containers, we have broken with the usual advice that recommends leaving sporlings in place until they are large enough to handle. Instead, we have opted to split our batches, leaving some in situ while moving small clumps of prothalli to individual containers to see whether this results in healthier, more vigorous plants. All are being kept under plastic to retain that all-important humidity, but I have already begun removing the lids from larger specimens to gradually accustom them to harsher conditions, with the aim of moving some outdoors come spring.
The images below show various species as of 20 November 2026, which is not bad at all for spores sown in June and July.
Young Brittle Bladder-ferns Cystopteris fragilis potted up in Novemeber 2025 (sown in June)Transplanted Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes with signs of new growthThe first fronds of Soft Shield-fern Polystichum setiferumRather congested Borrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreri
A Few Problems
While some of our ferns have been successful, others have failed miserably, and in most cases, this is entirely my fault. I mentioned earlier that you should ignore your spores for a prolonged period, something I confess I didn’t do, as too often I found myself opening the pots for a sneaky look. Doing this, it seems I allowed contaminants into the pots, resulting in mould that quickly overtook many of the young plants. We lost most of our Rustyback specimens this way, but I did discover that you can safely move prothalli to another jar, helping to preserve at least some plants.
Not sterilising the soil sufficiently may also have been a problem, as algae and bryophytes appeared in several pots, leading to competition with the young ferns. The greatest problem of all, however, seems to be overcrowding. It is all too easy to sow far too many spores in a single container, and when this happens, the added competition prevents the prothalli from developing properly. This is currently affecting our Dryopteris affinis containers, but I hope it can be remedied by thinning, just as you would with the seedlings of any other plant.
And with that, the first stage of the challenge is complete. I will post an update further down the line as we progress to potting on and eventually planting out. I am optimistic, as the whole process has been far easier and, dare I say it, quicker than I envisaged at the start. If you have ever fancied growing ferns from spores yourself, I would strongly recommend giving it a go. You may find it slightly addictive and end up with more than you can handle, just as we have.
As a quick further update since drafting this post, we ended up sowing spores from a range of other cultivated species, including Oak Fern Gymnocarpium dryopteris and Limestone Fern Gymnocarpium robertianum, as well as some Narrow Male-fern Dryopteris cambrensis gathered from an unassuming Northumbrian roadside. Being more ambitious, I am also attempting to hybridise Male-fern Dryopteris filix-mas with Borrer’s Male-fern to create Cryopteris × critica, but we will see how that pans out.
I won’t pretend to know the slightest thing about fungi. As a botanist, I find I can only retain a small amount of non-plant-related information at any one time, and for some reason, whenever someone tries to instruct me on fungus identification, the information seems to travel in one ear and promptly out the other. While I struggle to make sense of them, however, I do rather enjoy their appearance, particularly in autumn when they offer something to look for during the botanical “off-season.” Of all of them, it’s the waxcaps that I enjoy the most.
There’s just something about these brightly coloured, glutinous grassland fungi that appeals to me more than other mushrooms. Perhaps it’s because they tend to grow in special places, or because their presence often signifies habitats of high conservation value. Despite this, they’re a tricky bunch for beginners like me. Still, it never hurts to try, and this weekend, equipped with a new field guide, Matt and I set out to the ancient grasslands of Hadrian’s Wall to see which waxcaps and other grassland fungi we could find.
We started out by visiting the area near the Sill, a spot we had also explored last year, albeit late in the season. Whereas last year the Crimson Waxcap Hygrocybe punicea was by far the most numerous species we encountered, this year that title went to the lovely, if somewhat beige, Meadow Waxcap Cuphophyllus pratensis. Those that had not been trampled by passing sheep looked rather fresh.
Meadow Waxcap Cuphophyllus pratensis
Another easy one to spot here was the Snowy Waxcap Cuphophyllus virgineus. We gave a few a good sniff to rule out the Cedarwood Waxcap Cuphophyllus russocoriaceus, but alas, they smelled pretty “mushroomy” to me.
Another nice one to identify was the slimy Parrot Waxcap Hygrocybe psittacina, a pretty variable little thing that usually shows a hint of green in both the stipe and the cap. This is probably the species I’m most accustomed to seeing in Newcastle, so no problems there. It isn’t the most striking of fungi, though.
Parrot Waxcap Hygrocybe psittacina
The species mentioned so far are admittedly on the dull side, but thankfully several of the others present were a little more vibrant, if somewhat confusing. The yellow ones in particular warranted a closer look, as both of the common species, Butter Waxcap Hygrocybe ceracea and Golden Waxcap Hygrocybe chlorophana, are rather similar. I’m inclined to think that the ones below are Golden Waxcap, on account of their narrowly attached gills, but I’d happily be corrected. They also tend to grow a little larger than Butter Waxcap.
Golden Waxcap Hygrocybe chlorophanaGolden Waxcap Hygrocybe chlorophanaGolden Waxcap Hygrocybe chlorophana
If the above guess is correct, I’m rather hoping the slightly squashed specimen below turns out to be Butter Waxcap. Where the gills attach to the stipe, they certainly look a bit different. It also wasn’t quite as slimy as those above and seemed to fit the description of that species as “greasy.”
Another tricky group are the red waxcaps. There are several species, but I believe the most common in this area are Scarlet Waxcap Hygrocybe coccinea and Crimson Waxcap Hygrocybe punicea. Someone told me a while back that you can tell the two apart by the stipe, which is fibrous in Crimson Waxcap and smooth in Scarlet. In that case, I’m taking a punt on Scarlet Waxcap for the one below – a beautiful little fungus.
Scarlet Waxcap Hygrocybe coccinea
The rather large mushroom below, spotted last year, might just be Crimson Waxcap, given its noticeably fibrous stem. If not, I’ve been barking up the wrong tree!
Crimson Waxcap Hygrocybe punicea
ast but not least at the first site was a tiny, lurid red-orange mushroom shown below. Thankfully, local naturalist Chris Barlow had arrived a short while before us and had identified it as Vermillion Waxcap Hygrocybe miniata – a new one for me. You can’t quite make out the “grainy texture” in my photos, but I’ve been assured that it is visible in Chris’s.
Vermillion Waxcap Hygrocybe miniata
Chris also did a superb job pointing out a range of other grassland fungi that I would probably have overlooked if visiting the site on my own. Among them were the three rather alien-looking species shown below.
Meadow Coral Clavulinopsis corniculataYellow Club Clavulinopsis helvolaScarlet Caterpillarclub Cordyceps militaris
After a quick lunch break, we decided to head to another site a few miles away at Walltown. While there were fewer fungi to be seen, some of the usual suspects were apparent.
Snowy Waxcap Cuphophyllus virgineusParrot Waxcap Hygrocybe psittacinaMeadow Waxcap Cuphophyllus pratensis with bonus Golden Waxcap Hygrocybe chlorophana
We only spent an hour or so at the latter site, but we did note what could possibly be a new species for the day’s haul. Now, I have never seen Fibrous Waxcap Hygrocybe intermedia, but from some on-the-spot reading, I’ve taken a punt with the specimen shown below. It is certainly orange and has a noticeably fibrous stem, though the cap isn’t particularly fibrous-looking. Who knows!
Fibrous Waxcap Hygrocybe intermedia?
I will never be a mycologist and, indeed, have no desire to be. However, waxcaps do have a certain allure, and it was nice to try something different for a change. At least the two species shown below were less problematic…
