Ann Mackay: Inspired by Nature

Lacy Lanterns: Physalis alkekengi

March 15, 2026March 14, 2026 Ann Mackay6 Comments

Skeletonised pods of Physalis (Chinese lantern)

NB: A note for WordPress Reader users – you need to click on the title of the post again to come out of the reader and go to the post itself. This allows you to see the whole of the top photograph. (Otherwise you may see just a tiny section!)

When I visited Fullers Mill last month I noticed that the remains of their Chinese lanterns (Physalis alkekengi) had turned into little skeleton pods. I occasionally find leaf skeletons, as well as the skeletonised flowers of hydrangea, but this was a first for me.

I love the lace-like look of the veins left after the papery tissue of the pod has decomposed. To me, this is much more attractive than the orange ‘lanterns’ of the earlier stage (shown below). I’ve frequently seen these in gardens here, but only while they still had a solid pod, never before in the skeletonised form.

Orange pods of Physalis alkekengi in autumn

My curiosity about why some plants have parts that skeletonise led me to a swift dig around the internet. Apparently the veins are made up of lignin, a much more robust compound than the soft tissue of leaves, petals, or in this case, pods. The lignin structure of the veins can survive after the rest has decayed away. (Sometimes the skeletonisation is caused by insect damage, but the sheer number of pod skeletons showed that it wasn’t the case here.) Leaves with a particularly strong vein structure are more likely to work, whereas those with a protective, waxy surface are very unlikely to. A damp and sheltered environment, such as found amongst the trees at Fullers Mill, helps to encourage natural decay. In my own garden, I’ve noticed that I occasionally find skeletonised hydrangea flowers in a cool, slightly damp and sheltered area.

Although I’m not very keen on the orange pods, I might be tempted to grow some physalis. It would be worth it for the skeleton pods, and I can imagine how beautiful they would look with a coating of frost. I may have to go and look for some seeds!

A skeletonised pod of Physalis alkekengi (Chinese lantern)

Tiny but Tough: Cyclamen coum

March 8, 2026March 5, 2026 Ann Mackay6 Comments

Last week I mentioned that hellebores flower through winter and early spring. Another flower that appears during the same period is Cyclamen coum, which produces its pink or white flowers from December to March. These tiny, delicate-looking flowers with their upswept petals bring a touch of colour to the greyest months.

Although the flowers may appear fragile, Cyclamen coum is thoroughly hardy, coping with temperatures down to minus 10°C. It likes a well-drained soil with plenty of humus and a little shelter. The leaves die back later in spring, reappearing in autumn, and it grows well in partial shade. This makes it a good plant for areas around trees and shrubs.

I have the autumn-flowering Cyclamen hederifolium growing here. The flowers are larger and manage to compete with the planting around them. Seeing how much smaller the flowers of C. coum are in comparison, made me feel that they would be somewhat lost in my garden (even more so where I leave the dead remains of the summer’s growth to shelter hibernating insects). Now though, I see that they can make quite an impact, especially where they manage to spread and create a mass of bright colour. There may be some Cyclamen coum corms on my shopping list for autumn!

Winter to Spring: Hellebores

March 1, 2026February 27, 2026 Ann Mackay10 Comments

Flowering from winter days right into mid-spring, hellebores are a lovely companion as I look for the signs of the re-emergence and renewal of life in the garden. For me, hellebores make the time of waiting for spring brighter and happier. Their flowers are with us from the coldest time of the year. They last through that subtle shift away from winter, accompanying us until the warmth and longer daylight of spring has created a rush of fresh growth and bright, new colours.

On a recent visit to Fullers Mill Garden, I took the opportunity to photograph some of their many hellebores. To do so, I had to find flowers that were slightly upturned rather than facing downward. Then I had to wait for the breeze to die away…so there was a fair bit of patience and sheer luck involved! (You see the results here.)

In my own garden, I have planted several newer cultivars. These have more upward-facing flowers than the older hellebores. Apart from making them more visible, this makes them much easier to photograph. (And I can’t resist photographing them, so they’re also likely to make an appearance on this blog soon.)

Winter is, thankfully, on its way out. Spring is slowly taking over and we have had a few days of sunshine at last. After such a wet couple of months, the gradual change to warmer weather is more than welcome. I’m glad to have had the company of hellebores throughout this time.

Winter Begone!

February 22, 2026February 19, 2026 Ann Mackay21 Comments

A clump of snowdrops with raindrops on the flowers

I’ve had enough of winter and I’m keen for it to go and for spring to be with us. Although it hasn’t been very cold here, it feels as if it has been raining for months. The thought of a bright, sunny spring day is very appealing at this stage and I’m on the lookout for signs that winter is coming to an end.

Every new flower that appears now feels like a little gleam of hope and the sight of snowdrops (Galanthus) always feels like a promise that winter won’t last much longer. I have a few snowdrops here and there in the garden at the moment. It makes me smile to see them because I know that they will soon be joined by crocuses and the first of the daffodils.

The snowdrops you see here are from my recent visit to Fullers Mill. They have lots of different varieties, many larger than those I have at home, making them easier to photograph. Our visit was a bit on the damp side, so I didn’t get much time for spotting the different cultivars. I’m hoping that a second visit will be on a drier day. I’d rather see snowdrops than raindrops!

snowdrops and winter aconites — Snowdrops mix well with winter aconites, making an attractive combination.

Early Beauties: Winter Aconites

February 15, 2026February 14, 2026 Ann Mackay11 Comments

yellow flowers of winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis)

Spring is still some way off in the UK but a few flowers are gradually emerging. My favourite gardens at Fullers Mill are open during February to let visitors come and see the snowdrops, so of course I have visited to photograph those. But I was delighted to find these sunny midwinter beauties growing there too. These are winter aconites (Eranthis hyemalis), one of the earliest plants to flower in the year.

As you might guess from the appearance of the yellow flowers, the winter aconite is a member of the Ranunculaceae, the buttercup family. If you look closely at the top photograph, you can just see the tubular nectaries around the stamens…a feature shared with the closely-related hellebore. Flowering at the same time as hellebores means the two plants can be used in some very striking combinations. I’d love to try growing winter aconites with either a pure white hellebore or a very dark purple one. (Winter aconites do look lovely with snowdrops, and I’ll be able to share a photo of that combination in my next post.)

This plant is versatile. It will grow in woodland and shady conditions or in sunny spots, preferring reasonably moist, fertile soil. If it’s happy with the site, it can spread over large areas, but it doesn’t take over for long as the leaves die back in late spring.

Appearing from late January makes this flower an excellent source of nectar and pollen for the first queen bumblebees to emerge from winter hibernation. It is valuable for honeybees too, and for any other pollinating insects that are active early in the year, making it an asset to a wildlife garden. Clearly, at a time when there are not many plants in flower, the winter aconite is more than just a pretty face!

(Almost) Silent Sunday: Frosty Rose

February 8, 2026February 3, 2026 Ann Mackay7 Comments

My attention is called away from the garden and photography this week, so I shall just leave this frosty rose for you, with a reminder that Valentine’s Day is coming up on Saturday. (The rose is ‘Rhapsody in Blue’, which is really more of a pinkish purple.)

A Play of Light

February 1, 2026January 31, 2026 Ann Mackay12 Comments

There can be no photography without light, but it offers more to experiment with than just that basic need. One of my favourite qualities to play with is translucence. Many flowers and leaves will allow light to pass through them and this can lead to some attractive images.

Despite their apparent density, the purplish-red leaves of the eucomis (pineapple lily) above were able to let light filter through. By luck, I happened to see them at a time when the sun was low-angled but still very strong. The bright light was able to penetrate the leaves, showing a range of reds and yellows that would not have been visible by normal reflected light. I have cropped the image tightly on the leaves to make the colours appear more flame-like.

pink hollyhock flower against a blue sky

In my garden, hollyhocks are probably the flowers with the most translucent petals. These petals are especially thin, like fine coloured tissue, and allow light to pass through very easily. The flower above was one of the last on the plant, so by that time the stems were tall and reaching skyward, making it easy to position the camera where the semi-transparency of the flower would emphasise its airy floatiness.

The dahlia, by contrast, was in a shady position, with sunlight reaching the top petals of the flower. Because this was not in my own garden, I was limited in where I could stand. It was disappointing not to be able to get the camera into a position where more of the petals would be lit up, so I’ve cropped the photo to give the upper part of the flower more importance.

My garden doesn’t have a lot of colourful leaves in autumn, but our wisteria can turn a lovely shade of gold when the leaves are backlit by the afternoon sun. These leaves should really have been pruned off the climber in July, but I’m glad I left them because they were ideally placed to make a vivid image. The shadows that you see are from foliage on the far side of the leaves blocking the light. I reckon they add a lot to the photograph, which would have been much less interesting without them.

The last image (of autumn crab apple leaves) makes the same use of shadows. Here the leaves and stems on the right-hand side block the backlighting of the central leaf, adding the focal point of dark shadows on the glowing red.

Playing with translucence is a satisfying way to make photographs more vibrant and richly-coloured. It just needs the cooperation of the sun. There’s not much sunshine around at the moment, but spring will bring more opportunities to experiment with backlighting. Roll on spring!

Winter Supporting Cast

January 25, 2026January 23, 2026 Ann Mackay12 Comments

When frost is here, the stars of the garden are the seed heads. Their shapes become sculptural and exciting as they are made sparkly with frozen icy crystals. They’re the first thing I look for in winter photography, and a very satisfying subject for an appealing image.

But there aren’t a huge number of seed heads, and, of course, they are vastly outnumbered by the remaining leaves. Fortunately these leaves can often be very attractive with a sprinkling of frost and give their own photographic possibilities.

A frosted geranium leaf — Frost accentuates the edges of a geranium leaf.

The leaf in the top photo is a Japanese anemone. These can take on interesting curvy shapes as they dry out and the brown colouring adds a bit of extra interest. There are usually lots of these leaves in the garden, but this year I have noticed that there are fewer. Perhaps the increasingly hot and dry summers have made these anemone clumps less inclined to spread and be thuggish. Although they can make themselves a nuisance, I will be sad if I lose the pretty show of flowers that they give in late summer and early autumn. It seems that climate change may be changing the nature of my garden.

The picture immediately above shows a hardy geranium. These are plants that are good-looking in both leaf and flower, so I’ve been happy to find space for several of these in the garden. The way the frost outlines the deeply indented edges of the leaves emphasises their shape and creates an image that is both pleasing to see and inviting to photograph.

Frosted fennel leaves — Fennel leaves are gracefully lacy under a heavy coating of frost.

While the first two photographs were taken in this winter’s light frosts, the remaining two were taken in years when the frost was much heavier. A dense coating of frost crystals has given the feathery foliage of a bronze fennel the appearance of lace. (Normally the fennel leaves would be gone by the time there was much frost, but that year the frost arrived earlier.)

Below, frost on the leaves of Euphorbia mellifera will quickly melt in the strong sunshine of a bright winter morning. Despite looking more robust than the delicate fennel leaves, this euphorbia is less hardy and would probably be best given winter protection in areas colder than ours. Luckily for many of our plants, we don’t usually get very cold temperatures for long. As a gardener, I have reason to be very grateful that this winter has been fairly mild so far, even if that means fewer opportunities for winter photography. ❄

Frosted leaves of Euphorbia mellifera — Frost on the leaves of Euphorbia mellifera will soon melt in the sunshine.

What Remains

January 18, 2026January 17, 2026 Ann Mackay12 Comments

A frosted skeleton of a hydrangea flower

My garden is full of the leftovers of summer and autumn. Clumps of curled and dried-out leaves, seed heads (many now empty of their cargo of seeds) and, here and there, the tattered remnants of flowers, all create an untidy patchwork. But that untidiness is a protection to the life lurking within: insects are hibernating in it and, below, the soil and the creatures that inhabit it are protected from the effect of heavy winter rains.

Everything is going through the long wait for spring. I won’t tidy up the dead growth until all the little lives it shelters are active again. By then there will be new leaves beginning to push up through the soil and the first spring bulbs will be in flower.

Meanwhile the frost makes patterns on the remains of last year’s plants. Old leaves are finely edged in white and the ghosts of past flowers appear to be encrusted with tiny white seed beads. (Above: a tiny skeletonised flower of a hydrangea has become encased in a coating of icy frost. Below: tiny bead-like frost crystals decorate what’s left of a clump of aster daisies.) The seemingly insignificant oddments of the garden year are enough for the frost to create its ephemeral magic. ❄

Feeling Wintry

January 11, 2026January 10, 2026 Ann Mackay8 Comments

Winter has asserted itself forcefully over most of the UK. In the last week or so, heavy snow and a damaging storm caused problems over other areas of the country. Here we have been more fortunate and have pretty much escaped both. Our light sprinkling of snow has now melted away, to be replaced by heavy rain and the promise of sleet.

Even the frosts of the previous days had little impact here. Although the ground was completely frozen, the frost itself affected only the grass and low-lying leaves, with none appearing on the upper parts of plants. So there was little of interest to photograph, which is unusual for frosty mornings here. However, that did allow me to stay indoors and keep warm rather than trying to navigate the slippery paths and ground outside. The time wasn’t wasted because I spent it catching up with processing a few older winter photographs.

The pictures here show seed heads photographed in winters when we’ve had a bit more frost. I usually leave some seed heads standing, hoping that they will become covered in icy crystals and provide me with something to photograph. (I don’t tidy up much in the autumn anyway, because I know that there will be many ladybirds, and possibly other insects, hibernating in the undergrowth.)

The top photo shows the seed head of a hardy agapanthus which is able to survive outside in a garden border, rather than having to be kept in a pot and overwintered in a greenhouse. It is one of my favourite seed heads to photograph. The seed head below is betony (Betonica officinalis), which I was lucky enough to be able to photograph before it had completely dried out and lost its colour. (We must have had an early frost that year.)❄