Holly by golly

Friends at the other end of the valley, both trained in science, are now quite cosy in The Arts Block. 25 years ago they came into a few acres of unmanaged woodland and had to decide a) where to build their home b) how to gain access from the county road. Case b) was decided by the meandering exploratory path their dog Holly took. They call their gaff Hollywood. 25 years ago we came into a few acres of under-managed pasture and ragged hedgerow. In one corner of our property a little grove of holly Ilex aquifolium had survived the assaults of live-stock long enough to start up, grow thick-as-me-leg, die standing up and be replaced by a dense stand of younger growth. Call me superstitious but I'm really reluctant to cut holly down - although I don't mind making Christmas wreaths.

When we planted our [1 acre = 0.4 ha.] wode at Crowe's, it was strictly 'native' trees and we must have included a few holly whips although I don't remember making a song and dance about including that species in the inventory. Nevertheless, in several places on the periphery of the wood, we now have (slow growing) holly trees getting on for being twice as tall as me. - tho' only half the height of nearby oak Quercus robur, Scot's Pinus sylvestris, and larch Larix europaeus. I guess I am still surprised by joy at witnessing the propagation of holly in places where no holly grew before. 

"witnessing the propagation" because I keep discovering micro holly, presumably deposited in birb-poop, whenever we start clearing back the undergrowth. I've taken to driving in a bamboo next-door [as L], so that galumphing me or trampling oblivious visitors don't crush the life out of these childer of the woods so that they e v e n t u a l l y grow into gods of the forest.

Last Winter Dau.II cleared out the first part of the mass-path aka The Glen Lane which defines the Northern boundary of Chateau Blob. There among the tangle of ground ivy, bramble and fern were a handful of fighty holly whips straggling through the top hamper like a drowning creature gasping for air. They are, of course, gasping for light rather than air and none of them - all hirpled and twisted - were ornaments to their species. I dug them all up - a feat in itself given the stoney root-matted nature of the surrounding soil - and popped them into plastic pots filled up with nourishing compost. Rough and ready that was, but they all survived.

Now that frosty nights are upon us, plants in pots are a royal pita because, if under shelter they need watering, and if not they risk root-freezing. Accordingly, last week, I planted them all out along the top of the ditch where our orchard abuts the access road - a feat in itself given the stoney root-matted nature of the surrounding soil! Believe it or not there are 8 holly plants between laurel Prunus laurocerasus on the left and the ash on the right:

I am confident that they will grow up to complement the hollies in the hedge on the other side of the road:

That's a[nother] crap photo for The Blob but the ↑s mark the largest of the holly trees which self-seeded before our tenure. There is at least one female tree - holly is dioecious - as indicated by the, here invisible, berries in the ◎. Fortunately, these berries do be out of reach of casual holly-rustlers - t'buggers will have to 'borrow' the ladder from our yard to reach.

I'm quite chuffed about this. This Winter, I'll make a few active passes to locate self seeded small holly and pot them out if they are in a really adverse position w.r.t. light and soil. In 12 months time, I'll give them a rough prune and plant them where a) they have a better chance and b) some utility for us. The | treelets | edging the orchard will serve us as a sight-screen from the many walkers who pass through our property on the way to recreate themselves in the uplands North of us.