My last post was about Madeira's stunningly colourful and varied vegetation. But most of these plants are planted in parks and gardens and have been imported at one point or another since the island was claimed for Portugal in 1419 by João Gonçalves Zarco. What about the native flora? Madeira means "wood" in Portuguese. The island, which apparently never had an indigenous human population before the Portuguese arrived, was almost completely covered in woods. Within decades of being claimed and settled, however, most of the woods had disappeared already - thanks to slash-and-burn and deforestation, wood being a much-in-demand commodity. Today, of these original forests, just a comparatively small area remains - protected in national parks.

Fascinating as it is though, I don't want to delve much into Madeira's natural history here. There is an excellent and very detailed book about it, written by Peter Sziemer, which I was pleased to discover on my recent visit had been translated into and published in English as well. (No, I don't get any commission for linking to that shopping site. But it shows not just the book's cover but its index, too.) Not counting "lower plant life", like algae, lichens or mosses, apparently there were about 790 plant species in Madeira before man arrived, 118 of which are endemic  (i.e. existing nowhere else in the world but on this archipelago). Since then, circa 540 more plant species have arrived and spread - either by design (as crop plants, like sugar cane, grapes, chestnuts or ornamental plants) or by accident. This last figure does not include those plants that are confined to parks and gardens, just the ones that have "gone native".

To someone unfamiliar with Madeira (and I will concentrate here entirely on the island Madeira as opposed to the archipelago of that name which includes a few more but much smaller islands) there are a few basic things to know. 

            a) Madeira is an island of volcanic origin, though luckily any volcano is long extinct.

            b) Madeira is very mountainous and fissured.

            c) Madeira has a sharp North-South divide.

            d) The North is where clouds from the Atlantic arrive, laden with rain, can't cross the mountains which are up to 1862m high (and remember you start at sea level here) and hence have to lose ballast. That means, the North is very wet. That also means the North is very very green. Jungle-like even. It's my personal favourite.

            e) The South is much drier, being in the rain shadow. It also is slightly less steep terrain - which in Madeira simply means the mountains do not immediately rise vertically out of the sea but just a little more gradually so more people could settle and farm.

             f) In order to have enough water for people, livestock and crops on the much drier southern side of the island, levadas were constructed. These are a network of tiny canals - or rather rills - that channel the water from the wet north to the dry south, laboriously dug into the rocks and cut into the mountains over the centuries. Apparently, today there are more than 2000 km of these levadas. Since they need servicing (e.g. fishing out dead leaves so they won't block the water supply) most have paths running beside them - which double as the most perfect hiking paths. Especially since their gradient is almost negligible. Genius.

            g) And finally: In the north-eastern most corner of Madeira, there is a peninsula which is almost desert-dry.

Unlike many of the imports, Madeira's native flora can hardly be called "stunning" (unless, of course, you are a botanist, thrilled by endemic species). The beauty of most plants is of a more discreet kind. When we visited in August, most native flowers had finished flowering and set seed or withered altogether. But I did find a few, some of which are endemic to the island (see picture gallery above).

Typical for the lower costal regions apparently were the Canary islands dragon trees (Dracaena draco). This amazing plant - a symbol of Tenerife, by the way - has all but disappeared in the wild. But you do find specimens e.g. in parks and some of them, if old enough, are awe-inspiring. Like the dragons in fairytales, they seem to have a hundred "heads" and if you cut one off two more will grow... Also, they have a reddish sap that has been interpreted as the dragon's blood. Their seeds germinate readily, as we found out. Only a few hundred years to go, then, till we have our own proper home-grown dragon... (No, in this context I don't count!)

Between 600/ 700m and 1200 m above sea level grows Madeira's laurel forest. On the southern side, this has been replaced mainly by eukalyptus, pine and mimosa trees.  Driving up the hairpin bends of the road into the mountains, you pass through them: wind down the car window and inhale the eucalyptus aroma! Pure therapy. Especially when, as so often happens, everything is shrouded in clouds and mist. But you are just as likely to come across large areas where the trees have been reduced to a black stump by a wildfire - eerie indeed.

Did it happen by accident, malicious arson or naturally I wonder? Or even, perhaps, with intent in order to reforest with native species? I doubt the latter: like in Australia, young eucalyptus trees sprout from the burnt ground or the seemingly dead stumps again. This is what currently can be witnessed for instance in the mountains above Funchal.  On our first visits to Madeira, we walked under mature eucalyptus and mimosa trees there. Now, most of them are burned but the new growth is about two to five metres tall already.

Back to the laurel forest. This is what I'd call the jungle and it is what Madeira's original vegetation mainly consisted of. Four evergreen species of laurel trees are predominant here my guide book says (Laurus azorica, Ocotea foetens, Apollonias barbujana and Persea indica if you must know), seconded by a few others like the Lily of the valley tree (Clethra arborea). The trees are covered with lichens, mosses and ferns like those in a cloud forest. And in the clouds and mist they often are. An absolutely magical world.

Even further above sea-level,  you'll come into the realm of the tree heathers (Erica arborea and Erica scoparia) and the blueberry trees (Vaccinium padifolium). The latter in particular was a great favourite with my family during our holiday - guess why? While most hikers were keen to cover long distances, we happily munched our way along the levadas from one abundantly cropping plant to the next and didn't even have to bend down! (We did, however, have to mind our steps if we didn't want to crash several metres down while reaching for those heavily laden branches as the trees were growing from the steep slopes below the path.) I noticed that there were some specimens with spherical fruit while most bore barrel-shaped ones. Are they in cultivation somewhere, I wonder? I've certainly never heard of nurseries offering them for sale.

And last but not least I want to show (further down) a picture of a plant I found really interesting. It grows on the desert-like east cape, the peninsula called Ponta de São Lourenço. It is a Solanaceae, related to tomatoes, peppers and potatoes, but I found no picture in either of my guide books - not even in Sziemer's. From previous visits I know it has deep purple flowers and the whole plant, including the upper side of its leaves, is armored with spines. The fruit are spherical and bright - almost acidic - yellow. Inside, they have seeds just like those of peppers.

Strangely enough, it always reminds me of a Christmas tree - although either an alternative one or one weeks after Christmas, as its "branches" are so bare and indeed dead-looking by the time it fruits. But the ripe fruit do look like baubles! Especially as they are so evenly spaced on the plant and no leaves are distracting from them. Sziemer does list an endemic Solanaceae species under the name of Solanum patens. Intriguingly, on googling it there is very little reference and this usually does not include a picture! Google Images throws up many pictures under this search, but it is clear they are all sorts of Solanum species. So is this a truly rare plant, or what? I'd love to know.

Hallo and welcome back after the holidays. Two weeks we spent on what is variously called "The Flower Island", "The island of everlasting spring" or "The swimming garden in the Atlantic": Madeira. My man and I had been there on holiday several times previously, but the last visit took place before our children arrived. And oh, was it beautiful again!

Driving from the airport into Funchal, capital and biggest town, already I got excited on seeing the myriad of exotic plants and flowers: Bougainvilleas, Jacaranda trees, bananas, passifloras, agaves, Flamboyant (Delonix regia), African tulip tree (Spathodea campanulata), Bird of paradise (Strelitzia), Trumpet vine (Campsis), Barbados pride (Caesalpinia pulcherrima), Coral tree (Erythrina), Bauhinia, Plumbago, Brugmansia, Oleander, Hibiscus, frangipani (Plumeria), Hydrangea, Agapanthus, ginger lily (Hedychium) - and these are just some of the most showy. You name it, it's there - or so it feels. Plants from all over the world have been brought here and thrive in the mild climate.

As a child, my most favourite book by far (and one I still enjoy reading occasionally) was "Monika faehrt nach Madagaskar" - Monika goes to Madagascar - by Max Mezger. In it, the little heroine and her father (a natural scientist and writer) travel to that biggest of islands. But since it was written in the late Thirties or early Forties they go by ship, circumventing the Cape of Good Hope in Africa, rather than fly. One of the stops on their long journey sees them exploring Tenerife. It always seemed like my own dream destination thanks to the following quote (I translate):  

"Next morning, Monika stepped into paradise. All the flowers of the North and the South bloom there and Monika for the first time understood why Adam and Eve couldn't resist eating from the forbidden fruit. God by now seems to have forgiven man the sin of his forebears and gifted them the island of Tenerife where they can eat all the fruit at once which otherwise only exist individually and dispersed over the entire earth. Bananas and grapes, strawberries and peaches, apples and pears, mangos and pineapples and many others of which Monika didn't even know the name.

Monika, who just a few weeks ago had cried about bare birches in the rain, wandered through forests of bananas and sugar cane, listened to the rush of warm winds through bamboo groves, inhaled the bitter almond fragrance of thousands of white and red flowering oleander and rested under laurel trees who grew as big as oak trees. (...) And butterflies the size of birds stood trembling in mid-air before they sank their proboscis into purple coloured bindweed. The two travel companions wandered hand in hand through the glowing fairy-tale splendour right into the silence of the high mountains. They saw the surf break on the cliffs but didn't hear the rush anymore ..."

I couldn't travel as a child, thanks to the Iron Curtain. And even after the wall came down I have never been to Tenerife myself - but I did see great pictures my man took there. I think on going I'd be disappointed (the actual island seems not like the image in my mind). It is Madeira, however, which always reminds me of that quote - especially when seeing roses bloom next to exotics from the tropics. Very weird sight.

And then: all those plants we mollycoddle indoors as houseplants here. In Madeira they grow outdoors, of course, in gardens and parks. Like the giant Monsteras, for instance, who climb tree trunks or cover entire walls. Some are even used like bedding plants: peace lily (Spatiphyllum), spider plant (Chlorophytum comosum), Clivia, croton (Codiaeum), sword fern (Nephrolepis exaltata), Ctenanthes or Kalanchoe blossfeldiana (which I know by the name of Flaming Kate), to name but a few.

It's not fair. Your own brave plants on the windowsill all of a sudden seem a pale imitation only. And, of course, they are. I have several hibiscus plants at home and if there's a bloom we'll draw each other's attention to it at the breakfast table. In Madeira, there are hedges of them everywhere, with hundreds or thousands of blooms every day! And you are supposed not to get envious??

But then, that's the same feeling as going to, say, the Palmhouse in Kew Gardens. You sigh, you admire, envy and grieve a bit, and then you just enjoy and accept that you can't have at home what this huge institution has. In Madeira, it's not the resources of an institution but the climate, of course. But if it is really nagging, you can try console yourself with the thought that at least they probably won't have a good display of Christmas roses (Helleborus) and snowdrops as well since these need cooler climes. (Not that my own garden could boast many...)

And then you try to add more "pale imitations" to your plot... A cutting from the white hibiscus in the garden of Quinta Vigia was denied, although I had tried my best asking a gardener very nicely and pleadingly (well, asked with the literally two words Portuguese I know and lots of pointing, signing etc...). But Quinta Vigia, though the garden is open to the public, is the official residence of the president of Madeira's regional government. The gardener simply shook his head and said "Proibido!" - "Verboten!"

I was quite disappointed: it's the only truly white-flowered hibiscus plant I've ever seen and I had longed for a cutting all those years, going on holiday with the intent of getting one from this precise shrub. True, I could search online for plants of Hibiscus rosa-sinensis "Albus". But where is the romance in that?? So please, Mr President, should you happen to read this - would you be so kind? :-)

You'll be more successful purchasing souvenirs from Funchal's famous market Mercado dos Lavradores. Which, of course, I couldn't resist. The display of fruit and vegetables is incredible, especially on a Friday when Madeira's farmers come to sell their produce. But even on other days there is more than enough to delight the senses. Among figs, grapes, melons etc. we also bought five different types of passionfruit which went just by the name of what they looked like: banana passionfruit, orange passionfruit, lemon passionfruit, apple passionfruit and maracuja.

They were delicious, though eating them whilst trying not to swallow all the seeds is a fiddly business. For the rest of the holidays I dried these seeds on a paper towel (so they won't go mouldy) and now can't wait to sow them. We've done it before and for some time had a nice lattice of passiflora leaves covering a window, the fast-climbing plants trained up strings, instead of net curtains. I think a holiday from us did it for them back then (not enough water). Anyway, it is more the fun of seeing the seed germinate and grow than the hope of having them forever as they are unlikely to flower much or yield without a greenhouse or conservatory in our climate.

I would have loved to get Monstera fruit again on the market, but though some few were on offer they seemed to have been picked too early. Monstera deliciosa - "deliciosa" referring to the edible fruit - can only be consumed when really ripe, i.e. when the scales start to pop off. What a pity! Our first attempt at growing the seeds, about fourteen years ago, was so successful the plants finally had to be given away as they didn't fit the flat anymore - true monsters :-).

But Funchal's Mercado offers more than deliciously wrapped seeds to the gardener. There are several stalls with corms, bulbs, tubers, crowns, cuttings and small plants for sale. Usually staffed by women in the distinctive traditional costume these are aimed squarely at the tourists - though I did see locals buying there, too. Last time we came I bought agapanthus cuttings - agapanthus probably being the island's signature flower as it exuberantly lines so many streets and pathways - and for the past few years the now vigorous plants have made a stunning focal point on the patio with their blue and white spherical flower heads.

This time I will try my luck with some shrivelled pseudobulbs of the orchid Coelogyne christata - bought dry, i.e. without any soil or moss or even roots. Not sure, but we'll see... And I had to have frangipani! Two small plants, rooted in sawn off plastic bottles, are my holiday trophy: Plumeria alba and Plumeria rubra. (Since I mentioned their perfume in my last post: on direct comparison I find I much prefer the smell of Trachelospermum and Stephanotis, but the blooms are incredibly sensual.) I know full well that the best I can hope for is to keep my frangipanis healthy, I don't think they'll ever flower for me. Well, I do hope of course - but it's not likely.

So can a gardener turn green with envy? Of course! But fortunately, for gardeners this usually means attempting to grow the object of desire to the best of their abilities at home. Now, how do I mix volcanic soil?