garden photography – Ann Mackay: Inspired by Nature

Varied Variegations

December 7, 2025December 6, 2025 Ann Mackay4 Comments

Variegated leaves of Arum italicum 'Pictum'

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!)

At a time when there are fewer flowers around, you notice the leaves more. Coloured or variegated leaves can give longer-lasting interest to the garden than the shorter lives of most flowers. The occasional plant with variegated leaves can be a particularly striking and effective way to liven up an area of plain green foliage.

In my own garden, I have the silver and green variegated leaves of a brunnera alongside the green of a fern and some hellebores. Further along the same border is a pulmonaria, whose slightly more subtle markings echo the brunnera’s colouring without competing for attention. In summer, a climbing hydrangea brings its lacy white flowers to the mix to further enliven this quiet green corner of our garden. (You can see the brunnera and pulmonaria in previous posts.)

The two sets of variegated leaves here (photographed at Fullers Mill Garden) are very different to each other: one smooth and slightly shiny, the other deeply indented with many sharp-looking prickles. The plant in the top photo is Arum italicum (Italian arum), with very attractive markings of the palest creamy yellow. Below, you can see the spiny leaves of a Galactites (milk thistle), whose purple or white flowers will be a magnet for pollinators in summer.

I could be tempted by either of these plants, although I find that the plain green Arum maculatum that is native in the UK can be a terrible nuisance. It gets everywhere if it gets the slightest chance! So perhaps this arum would get out of hand too. The milk thistle might be a safer bet. It’s an annual or biennial, and, although it will self-seed in good conditions, it is easier to pull out. The only problem might be that I would need some robust gloves to protect my hands from all those spines! Seeing these two plants has made me feel that I should see if there’s room for one or two more variegated plants in my own garden.

Green prickly leaves with white variegation

After the Flowers…

November 23, 2025November 22, 2025 Ann Mackay12 Comments

After the flowers have gone, then come a variety of interesting seed heads. Some are familiar and I come across them every year. Others are less common, like the liquorice plant (Glycyrrhiza) above, photographed on a recent visit to Fullers Mill.

Liquorice is a plant I’d never seen before and the spiky seed heads were what drew my attention. They would be lovely coated with tiny frost crystals, like little Christmas decorations. I didn’t touch one, but they look as if the tips of their individual pods could be sharp…not the most friendly thing to brush up against!

cardoon seed heads — Cardoon seed heads are releasing the first of their hairy seeds.

The seed heads of the cardoons (Cynara cardunculus), shown above, would be much nicer to get close to. These, however, were too tall for me to get near enough to reach the fluffy seeds. I would have liked to have been able to touch the hairs on the seeds, just to see if they’re as soft as they look. The first seeds were already making their escape last month, so I think that recent wind and rain will by now have carried many of them away.

Hairy seed heads are produced by other plants too, like the silvery plumes of Clematis tangutica (below, left). This plant was photographed at the end of summer and the single ‘tails’ attached to each individual seed were still smooth and shiny. Later, those tails become more feathery as they develop and the individual hairs on them grow and open out. That helps the attached seed to blow away in the wind. (It’s in a garden I visited, so I haven’t seen it recently, but I should think that those seed heads are very fluffy indeed by now, or perhaps have dispersed or become bedraggled in the autumn rain.)

Left: A clematis flower and seed head
Right: Catananche seed heads — Left: A seed head of Clematis tangutica gleams in the sun.
Right: Catananche seed heads have a subtle shine.

Another seed head with a slight shine is the Catananche caerulea (Cupid’s dart), shown above, on the right. The seeds are light and papery, clustered in airy heads that have a silvery look on a sunny day. This one is in my own garden and I love it for its long-lasting good looks, both in flower and seed.

Wild carrot (Daucus carota ‘Dara’) also grows in my garden. It’s allowed to seed itself around so that I have plenty of the nest-like seed heads to photograph. I’m having to be a bit stricter with it these days, because it can get everywhere. Now I just sprinkle the seeds in areas where there’s a bit of room for its waywardness. The lacy flower heads of wild carrot are pretty, but to my mind, this plant is at its best when in bud and later, when the seed heads appear. Both stages display the intricate architecture and grace of the plant at its most beautiful. When possible, I try to keep the seed heads, so that they (and the seed heads of other plants) will be here when the frost comes…not long to wait now!

Daucus carota (wild carrot) seed head — Tiny spiky seeds of wild carrot curve inward on a seed head that develops a nest-like appearance.

Just in Time!

November 16, 2025November 15, 2025 Ann Mackay8 Comments

On my visits to Fullers Mill Garden, I’d noticed a large Liquidambar (sweet gum tree). I’d hoped that I would get the chance to see its autumn leaves before the garden closed for the winter. As it turned out, my last visit of the year was about a fortnight before the end of the season and I was lucky enough to see the first of the Liquidambar leaves turn colour.

Although most of the leaves were still green on my last visit, there were those that created a beautiful display of red, orange and yellow. Strikingly, it also had leaves that were a dark purple. The garden closed near the end of October, so it was a bit early for the tree to produce its best display. I’m sure it will be magnificent around now!

The reddest leaves were on a different tree. This was a very much smaller Liquidambar, which I might have mistaken for a maple if I hadn’t noticed the distinctive spiky seed pods. As you can see in the photo below, this youngster was way ahead of the large tree in the colour-change process.

Most autumn leaves around here are yellow. We don’t see many that are red, so the Liquidambar trees in Fullers Mill Garden are a sight to enjoy. In future, I’ll make sure to visit the garden on the very last day that I can before it closes, in the hope of seeing these lovely trees at their most spectacular.

Liquidambar seed pods and leaves in autumn

Buzzy Sunday

July 6, 2025July 6, 2025 Ann Mackay17 Comments

Buff-tailed bumblebee (Bombus terrestris) on catnip (Nepeta) flowers.

You may have noticed that my usual weekly post arrived on Friday instead of today – if you missed it, it’s here. (I messed up and published instead of scheduling. Somehow I got distracted because at the same time I was trying to connect my social media accounts to my blog posting. Oops!)

Anyway, here’s a lovely little bumblebee to let you know what’s going on. Hopefully I’ll be back to normal next Sunday! And there’s a little bit of good news – my garden is buzzing with more bees than last summer, probably because of the warmer weather. 🐝

A Liminal Time

March 2, 2025March 1, 2025 Ann Mackay11 Comments

Frosted seedhead of wild carrot (Daucus carota)

For the last week or two it has felt as if winter is ending, but spring is not quite here. This is a time of transition, and of hope inspired by the resurgence of nature. In fact, March 1st is the start of meteorological spring in the northern hemisphere, so technically, spring is here. (Unless you go by the astronomical definition, which says that spring starts at the Vernal Equinox, around March 20th.)

As far as our garden here is concerned, spring is just starting to show the first signs, but the cold of winter isn’t far behind us. There are still frosts on some mornings; enough to coat the grass but nothing as spectacular as the seed heads here. (These wild carrot seed heads were photographed back in January, when we had several days of heavy frost.) It may be tempting a chilly fate to say that winter is definitely over, but it feels like it is.

Frosted honesty (Lunaria annua) seed head lying on frosted grass — An honesty (Lunaria annua) seed head was caught in one of the last frosts of the year.

So winter appears to be gone…but spring isn’t entirely here. We’re at a threshold, where the season is neither one thing, nor yet the other. I think of it as ‘pre-spring’. It’s a short time when the approach of spring is eagerly looked for and plans made to welcome both new growth and new life.

Being poised on the brink of spring is an exciting time for me, and other gardeners too I’m sure. Everything starts to get busy now; the gardening year takes on a new urgency as we try to keep up with the rush of returning life that spring brings with it. And now it is time for this blog to put the frosty photographs away…I hope!🌱

Thawing…for now!

February 9, 2025February 7, 2025 Ann Mackay15 Comments

We still have some below-zero nights forecast, but it feels as if the worst of the cold is over. Of course, that feeling may turn out to be entirely wrong, because there’s still plenty of time left for more wintry weather. Despite that, the sight of the early daffodil leaves poking up through the soil and the first hellebore flowers makes it feel like spring isn’t so far away.

Thawing frost created several opportunities in the past few weeks for me to get busy with my camera. The tiny meltwater droplets looked especially clear and they glittered where the sun struck them. Other drops, in dark corners where the defrost was slower, were still half-frozen.

clear drops of thawing frost — Sunshine brings out the sparkle on the drops of melted frost on Euphorbia mellifera leaves and the seed heads of a Miscanthus grass.

Thinking about that clarity in the drops of melting frost made me wonder if they were purer than ordinary raindrops. After all, raindrops pass through the atmosphere, collecting any pollutants along the way, whereas frost is formed from condensed water vapour. So, like a distilled liquid, they should be free of impurities…well, that’s my theory, anyway! In any case, I enjoy seeing the plants here all decked out in these sparkling little beads.

I am very much looking forward to spring; now I’m longing to see new growth and feel the sun warm the air. At the same time, I realise that I should take care to notice winter’s small details and the way that the natural world changes through this period of cold weather. Soon enough, the changes will be those of approaching spring…🌱

Frost thawing on rose leaves. — Thawed frost forming drops around the edges of rose leaves.

Pennies from Heaven

February 2, 2025February 1, 2025 Ann Mackay21 Comments

Apparently honesty (Lunaria annua) has around 25 common names. (According to the RHS, you can see their list here.) That’s a lot of names, probably because it’s a plant that has been in our gardens for a very long time. It is known to have been in cultivation in the UK since the sixteenth century and is mentioned in Gerard’s Herbal at that time.

Among these names are several that relate to money, including ‘St Peter’s pence’ and, in an interesting contrast, ‘Judas’s penny’. The names ‘money flower, ‘penny flower’ and ‘silver dollar’ have their origins in the way the seed pods look like coins. The name ‘money-in-both-pockets’ was probably given to the plant for the same reason, but to me, the pods also look like tiny pockets with the coins – seeds – inside. That the seeds are visible through the outer layers of the pods has given rise to the name most of us know it by, the familiar ‘honesty’.

The money-inspired names gave me a fair excuse for the title of this post. (Finding new titles can be hard at times!) But there are many names with other inspirations. ‘Grandpa’s specs’, for instance, which makes me smile, while ‘matrimony’ makes me wonder. (A hopeful name, arising from the plant’s associations with both honesty and prosperity, perhaps?) ‘White satin’, ‘silver leaf’ and ‘satin pod’ are all very descriptive of the central membrane that is left when the outer layers of the seed pods fall away.

But the names that appeal to me most are those that refer to the moon-like appearance of the pods. There’s the Latin name, of course – ‘luna’ means ‘moon’. Then there’s ‘moonwort’ and ‘moon seed’, both of which make me imagine honesty’s tiny papery moons gleaming in the reflected moonlight of an autumn evening.

The seeds have been gathered from the seed pods photographed here, and sprinkled where I’d like the plants to come up in future. Now only the silvery central discs are left and are dripping with slowly thawing frost. To me, they look even more like tiny glowing moons. I see them as little wintry moon-pennies.

In the spirit of honesty, I must admit that I’ve never actually heard anyone use the names mentioned here. Lunaria has always been ‘honesty’ to me. It’s a little sad for old names to die out and be forgotten. They’re part of our culture and the history of our relationship with plants..

Frost melting on honesty (Lunaria annua) seed heads

Small Changes

January 26, 2025January 24, 2025 Ann Mackay15 Comments

A lot of changes in the garden take place slowly, sometimes without being noticed until they’re complete. But frost, and the way it changes to semi-frozen beads before melting into glistening droplets has been a very visible feature here recently.

The top photograph shows the process of the thaw caught mid-way. There’s still an icy ridge of frost crystals running along the seed head, but below it the sun has melted the rest. It was the first time that I’ve photographed these Miscanthus seed heads – the frost added something extra to give interest to the image. (And they do tend to blow around in any breeze, so very still weather is needed for a decent photo.)

You can see the seed head at its most frost-covered in the image above. It didn’t stay that way for long because the Miscanthus is growing in the area that gets the first sun of the morning. Any frost on this grass melts away very quickly. It’s only because we had several days of very low temperatures that there was this build-up of frost crystals.

Those frost crystals soon thawed in the sun and became the icy little drops that are seen in the photo below. But this wasn’t the only change taking place as I photographed the Miscanthus. I was surprised to see how quickly the hairs on the individual grass seeds fluffed out in the sun. (You can see how dry and airy-looking they’ve become in a very short space of time.)

I suppose the seeds must be programmed to wait until there’s some warmth before opening out their hairs and getting ready to fly away in the wind. Later on, when it was cooler, I noticed that they had closed up again. Since that morning, I’ve seen the fluffiness appear in the sunshine and disappear as the hairs close when it’s cold. Perhaps this is a way of protecting the seed-hairs in bad weather, so that they don’t get bedraggled, and allowing them to stay dry enough to let the seeds float away when the time is right. It’s an intriguing little change that had gone unnoticed here before.

Here the Miscanthus seed heads have suddenly opened up and become fluffy.

Winter Leaves

January 12, 2025January 11, 2025 Ann Mackay15 Comments

The leaves here are mostly long gone, but the few that remain can give an interesting texture to the frosted garden. The gently curving leaves in the photograph above are those of Mahonia eurybracteata ‘Soft Caress’. This small shrub is in a very sheltered position, so this is the first year that I’ve seen frost on it.

This Mahonia is very different from the larger one (probably a Mahonia japonica) at the back of our garden. ‘Soft Caress’ is smaller (3 to 4ft high) and not as hardy. It’s a cultivar that doesn’t like to be in a hot, dry position, so I’ve planted it where it is shaded by other larger shrubs.

Unlike other varieties of Mahonia, the leaves of this one aren’t prickly (hence the name), so it’s a much ‘friendlier’ plant to have around. I like the effect of its foliage so much that I’d like to grow it elsewhere in the garden too, but that will be if I can find a suitable spot for another one. (Most of our garden is likely to be a bit too hot and dry in summer.)

The second set of leaves are those of a fennel. We have lots of bronze fennel in the garden (it spreads very easily from seed), but I notice that this one is green. I think a bee must have brought in some pollen from a green fennel and that this is a cross between it and one of our bronze plants. We’ll probably end up with more green ones, but I’ve been getting rid of a lot of the self-sown seedlings. If I didn’t, they’d soon take over the garden! But I would never get rid of them all. They look far too good when frosted for me to do that, and I love to photograph both the leaves and the seed heads. (As you may have noticed…you can see a couple of my favourites on this post.) ❄

frosted fennel leaves — Fennel leaves become a delicate tracery when the frost gets to them.

Almost, but Not Quite…

November 24, 2024November 22, 2024 Ann Mackay16 Comments

This week the weather forecast promised us frost and sunshine – a great combination for photography. Unfortunately, our two very cold mornings didn’t give the conditions I had hoped for. The first morning had plenty of frost, but was exceedingly grey and dull until about the middle of the day, then the next day the ground was frozen but there wasn’t any visible frost on the plants.

The photographs here are from previous winters. The frost on honesty pods (below) is a subject that I’d like to pursue further. I’ve even prepared a few of the dried pods by picking some, peeling the outer skins from the seed pods, and then leaving them in a position where they’re likely to catch both frost and sun. Now I have to wait for the weather to play along!

frosted honesty seed pods — Frost can make a lot out of very little!

While I keep a watch on the weather, I’ve been staying warm indoors and learning a bit more about printmaking. It’s been a long time since I did printmaking of any kind. I am now trying out methods that I can fairly easily do at home, rather than needing the facilities of a printmaking workshop. There’s a lot for me to learn and it may be a little while before I have results that I can show here, but it will keep me happily occupied while it’s cold outside. ❄