The tallest tree in England, a Douglas fir, is found on Exmoor.  The Douglas Fir was introduced into cultivation in 1827 by David Douglas.  Douglas was a gardener and botanist, who spent his early career in Scotland including time at the Botanical Gardens of Glasgow University.  He was recommended to the Royal Horticultural Society by William J Hooker, the first director of Kew Gardens.  Douglas made three trips to North America and was ultimately responsible for the introduction of many different species.  Some of the plants introduced during Victorian times include Sitka Spruce, Sugar Pine, Western White Pine, Ponderosa Pine, Lodgepole Pine, and Monterey Pine. These have transformed our landscape and the timber industry. Sadly, David Douglas died at an early age on an expedition to Hawaii, in suspicious circumstances. The Douglas Fir, despite its other common names, Douglas Spruce, Oregon Pine - is not a true fir , spruce, or pine. It is also not a hemlock. Its genus name is Pseudotsuga, means false hemlock.  The trees can grow to heights of nearly 100 metres, especially in their native coastal regions and may have a life span of 500 years. The Exmoor tree, planted 150 years ago, has reached a height of 63 metres (over 200 feet). However, as a relative youngster it still has some way to go — and it has competition. A recent survey* revealed there are a half million redwood trees in the UK.  Three species exist: the coastal redwood (Sequoia sempervirens ), the giant sequoia / redwood (Sequoiadendron giganteum), and the dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) They are among the largest trees on earth.  The coastal redwoods are the tallest of the three species.  The largest was measured to have a height of some 379 feet (115.5M).   Not only are these trees large but they are also impressive because of their longevity, living for a thousand years is not unusual.  Dendrochronology has aged one specimen at over 2500 years.   The coastal and the giant redwoods are found naturally on the pacific coast of California and Oregon.  Many of the UK redwoods, like the Douglas Fir, were introduced in Victorian times.  They were often planted on the estates of the wealthy and landed gentry. There are now probably more redwoods in the UK than in their native Pacific Coast range. Recent hot and dry weather has stressed the American trees, exposing them to intense wildfires. A recent study of some 5000 redwoods investigated how well the trees were ‘performing’ when compared to their American counterparts.  The tree were scanned with lasers  [a non invasive technique] to determine their height and volume (= biomass),  They were found to be growing just as well as those in the Sierra Nevada, this is probably due to our relatively mild but wet climate. The tallest redwood tree in the UK stands at 58 metres at Longleat, so somewhat behind the Douglas fir. However, whilst the Douglas Fir may have a life span of 500 years, a redwood can survive for 2000+ years, giving it time to catch up and overtake. * see  https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-68518623 and https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rsos.230603

My husband and I bought Lighthouse Meadow in 2022 from woodlands.co.uk.   I’d always wanted to plant my own woodland and see the wildlife changes as the land evolved from grazed grassland to biodiverse woodland.  Our preference was to avoid using plastic tree guards due to the environmental waste. The site is also windy so we wanted to encourage wind-induced root development to have stronger, more wind resistant trees: tree guards can limit strong root development, resulting in weak, top-heavy trees which are more prone to damage in strong winds. The protect the young trees from predation by deer and rabbits, we installed a deer fence with rabbit mesh. Featured image is a male fallow deer peering through our fence wishing he could eat one of my hazel saplings.  We used mulch mats around the base of each young tree, held down with five bamboo pegs. Over two years we have planted 3000 trees using this method. I won’t lie, it is hard work! We used mulch mats made from jute, a 100% biodegradable natural fibre. Their purpose is to suppress the growth of grass around the young tree. They are permeable, allowing air, nutrients and water to pass through them which also helps in reducing moisture loss. In the above photo, Tim has secured a mulch mat around a hazel sapling using a bamboo peg at each corner and a fifth peg to fix the flap of the mulch mat in place. NB : we found that a rubber mallet was kinder on knuckles than a metal one! We are now 18 months on from planting our first trees so I’ve had a chance to assess how well the mulch mats have performed. Last year (2024) had a wet summer and the grass grew very tall. We found that many of the mulch mats had started to biodegrade around the one year point. Our field is steeply sloping which meant that tall grass at the top end of the mulch mats tended to flop over, swamping the shorter saplings like wild plum and oak. So we needed to do quite a bit of maintenance, uncovering some of the trees and trimming the grass. The mulch mats had worked very effectively to suppress the grass immediately around the sapling. The  photo below shows a hornbeam sapling we planted 18 months ago. I’ve pulled back the grass which had flopped over. Although the mulch mat has completely biodegraded, you can still clearly see the square shape where it once was and the grass growth immediately around the sapling continues to be suppressed. The tree is healthy and now tall enough to be above the grass. We planted our second lot of trees in November 2024. However, we have had to reaffix and replace some of the mulch mats we used then because they were damaged during Storm Darragh. We found that the extra strong storm winds were able to rip up some of the mulch mats, despite being pegged down with five bamboo pegs. However, we weren’t the only ones needing to do some maintenance following the storm. Our neighbour has been planting trees using tall plastic tree guards and stakes. His trees also suffered during the storm and he had to re-stake and re-affix many tree guards. So although we found ourselves doing a fair bit of extra work to reattach the mulch mats, other tree protection methods had also suffered and required maintenance. The above photo of a young oak we planted Autumn 2024 shows how the strong Storm Darragh winds have torn up the mulch mat. So, would I use mulch mats again in future? Yes, because after 18 months I can see that the impact of using mulch mats is still benefitting the trees, despite the mulch mat having degraded. However, we have learnt a lot in the last year and we’ve bought a petrol mower (with a ‘drive’ function) and have regularly mowed strips across the field trimming the grass along the top end of the mulch mats to reduce the risk of tall grass flopping over the saplings. We have also learnt that our field has a very substantial population of field voles and the mulch mats don’t protect the saplings from voles gnawing the bark. We have lost around 5% of the trees to vole damage. Tree guards also wouldn’t protect a sapling as the voles can still easily get up inside the tree guards. We are therefore adopting a nature-based solution and will be erecting tall perches for birds of prey. We wish to encourage tawny and barn owls, buzzards and other raptors to the field to feed on the voles. For more information on our use of mulch mats, we made a film for WoodlandsTV, Plastic Free Tree Planting. We are also going to follow the recent WoodlandsTV film by Jack D’Gama and George Hassall on Birds of Prey Perches: one way to reduce rodent damage to young trees as inspiration for our owl and buzzard perches to manage the vole population.

The colours found in the flowers and leaves of flowering plants [Angiosperms] can be ascribed to four major 'families' of pigments; the chlorophylls, carotenoids, flavonoids and betalains.  The chlorophylls are perhaps the most familiar as they are the main photosynthetic pigments, absorbing blue and red wavelengths of light. Chlorophyll in flowers is relatively unusual.  Indeed, green flowers are quite rare and often associated with wind pollination. Examples of green flowers include some species of Euphorbia, Hedera and Fritillaria. Green flowers, despite their less conspicuous nature, can still attract insect pollinators.  This is due partly to differences in light scattering and brightness (achromatic contrast) as revealed recently by researchers at the Univeristy of Seville. The carotenoids are pigments belonging to the isoprenoid group of chemicals.  They are commonly present in flowers, absorbing mainly blue wavelengths of light. They lend yellow, orange and very occasionally red colour to flowers.  Carotenoids are the petal pigments of many yellow-flowered plants of the Daisy (Asteraceae) and Bean (Fabaceae) families.  The flavonoids offer the most diverse range of pigments.  They are water-soluble polyphenols found in nearly all vascular plants. They are located in the vacuoles of cells.  Certain flavonoid groups, such as, the catechins, flavonols, flavones, isoflavones absorb in the ultraviolet region of the spectrum.  They are invisible to humans but can be recognised by many bees, flies, butterflies and most birds.  The anthocyanins, also part of the flavonoid group, absorb green light and reflect shades of purple, blue, and red. They occur in many tissues of flowering plants, including leaves, roots, and fruits (think blueberries and raspberries). The last group are the betalains. The name derives from the beetroot (Beta vulgaris).  They are nitrogen containing compounds, derived from the amino acid tyrosine. Betalains give rise to yellow to pink and red colours. The deep red-purple colour of beets, bougainvillea, amaranth, and many cacti comes from certain betalain pigments. Interestingly, plants that produce betalain pigments do not form anthocyanins.   Apart from these four major pigment types, other rarer pigments do exist. For example, the xanthones found in some species of irises.  Flower colours may be generated from one specific pigment or through the combination of different pigments. Thus, red petals may be result of red anthocyanins, or red betalains, red carotenoids, or even by the combination of orange carotenoids with purple anthocyanins.  The carotenoids and chlorophylls are stored in chromoplasts and chloroplasts of the petals respectively. Chromoplasts are membrane-bound, fluid filled  vesicles in which pigments may be stored.  Flavonoids and betalains, which are water-soluble compounds, are found in the vacuoles of cells. White petals result from the absence of coloured pigments and thus reflect all wavelengths of visible light, though UV light may be absorbed.  Most plants have a distinctive flower colour that is stable, despite the vagaries of climate.  Sometimes the flower colour can darken or even change.  For example, the colour may deepen over time or even alter.  The Purple Mistress [Moricandia arvensis, found in the mediterranean region] has lilac coloured flowers in spring, but these change to white flowers in the summer. [caption id="attachment_42267" align="aligncenter" width="675"] Iris[/caption]  

I was born in the 1950s, a time when black smudges began to appear mysteriously on the trunks of sycamores in Britain. The culprit: sooty bark disease, a fungal infection caused by Cryptostroma corticale. Back then, I had no idea my life would unfold alongside a slow but steady parade of arboreal afflictions. But looking back now, I can measure the years not just in milestones and birthdays—but in the trees we lost along the way. Sooty bark disease doesn’t get the headlines these days, but it was a grim marker of post-war environmental change. Sycamores, long naturalised in Britain, would suddenly wilt and die, the bark flaking away to reveal a sinister black fungus. We didn’t yet understand how much stress—particularly from the hot, dry summers of the 1950s—played into its spread. It was an early sign: a warning that trees are far more vulnerable than they seem. Then came the true giant of tree diseases: Dutch elm disease. It began making headlines in Britain in the late 1960s and ravaged the landscape through the 1970s and '80s. Caused by a fungus (Ophiostoma novo-ulmi) spread by elm bark beetles, this pandemic decimated the native elm population. It’s estimated that over 25 million elms were killed in the UK alone. I remember the shift in the landscape. Once-common elm-lined avenues and hedgerows simply disappeared. As a child, I’d climbed elms in the park; as a young adult, I watched them vanish almost overnight. Dutch elm disease wasn’t just a biological tragedy—it was a cultural one. It marked a turning point, an awakening to the vulnerability of our treescapes. The decades ticked by. Chestnut trees became a familiar sight in my children’s drawings. But by the 2000s, I noticed the conkers looked smaller, sadder. Bleeding canker of horse chestnut, caused by Pseudomonas syringae pv. aesculi, began spreading rapidly across the UK. It causes a sticky, rust-coloured ooze from the bark and often leads to dieback and death. The disease didn't just affect the health of the trees; it diminished a cultural icon—conker tournaments and autumn walks lost something in its slow assault. Around the same time, sudden oak death (Phytophthora ramorum) emerged, though it affects more than just oaks. First identified in the US in the 1990s, it reached the UK in the early 2000s, causing widespread concern in woodlands and nurseries. It targets a range of species including rhododendrons, larches, and beech. The name alone—sudden oak death—carried a dramatic finality. Then came perhaps the most alarming of all in my later years: ash dieback, or Hymenoscyphus fraxineus. First identified in Poland in the 1990s, it reached the UK in 2012. It’s a true scourge, expected to kill up to 80% of the UK’s ash trees. These aren’t just forest trees—they line our roads, dominate hedgerows, shade our back gardens. Their decline feels intimate. Walking in ash woodland today is like passing through a ghost forest. The signs are unmistakable: leaf loss, crown dieback, diamond-shaped lesions. I’ve watched entire copses hollow out over just a few seasons. The cost is measured not only in timber or beauty, but in ecological networks—over 1,000 species depend on ash. And let’s not forget the oak processionary moth, which first arrived in the UK via imported oak trees in 2005. While not a disease in the fungal sense, it’s a threat nonetheless. Its caterpillars strip leaves and their tiny hairs can trigger allergic reactions in humans and animals. Forestry teams now issue warnings during their seasonal outbreaks. Oaks have stood proud for centuries, but even they are not safe anymore. There are others: sweet chestnut blight, plane wilt, the pine processionary moth, and new strains of Phytophthora that attack multiple species. The list gets longer, not shorter. So what’s going on? Part of the answer is globalisation. Trees, soil, and ornamental plants now travel easily between continents, bringing pathogens with them. Climate change plays its role too—stressed trees are more vulnerable, and warmer conditions allow pests and diseases to thrive. And while tree diseases aren’t new, our ecosystems today are more fragmented and less resilient. [caption id="attachment_8120" align="alignleft" width="400"] Leaf miner in Horse Chestnut[/caption]   What strikes me most, looking back, is how predictable this pattern has become. Every decade or so, a new name enters our vocabulary. Each time, we scramble to learn its symptoms, its vectors, its likely victims. And each time, the outcome is similar: loss, adaptation, then a wary lull before the next wave. Measuring my life in tree diseases might sound grim—but it’s also grounding. Trees are long-lived beings; their suffering unfolds slowly, deliberately. Watching them struggle is a reminder that the natural world is neither invincible nor immune to human action. The next great tree crisis is likely already on its way. But perhaps with better biosecurity, international cooperation, and public awareness, we can at least slow the tide. For me, though, the trees I’ve known—and the diseases that marked their passing—will always be a living calendar. A record of change, and of resilience.