Seven islands explored in 14 days - that is the sum total of our summer holidays. Which only leaves 29.993 isles for some other time... I'm talking, of course, of Sweden's Stockholm archipelago which reportedly consists of almost 30.000 islands, islets and rocks. It's a fascinating world I had long wanted to explore. So this year we finally got on the plane and went.

“We” in this case means just the six-year-old and me: My man has a very demanding and stressful job, so during the holidays - in order to really relax - he wants a basic level of comfort. He also wants to know well in advance where to rest his head for the night. I on the other hand love spontaneity, the chance to change plans at very short notice and to get up close with nature. Hence we decided he’d go to Madeira again with one child whilst I’d go camping in Sweden with the other.

Basically, I wanted to feel like my younger self again, relishing the freedom that backpacking brings. To enhance this, I didn’t check out much in advance: all I did was book a room in a Stockholm hostel for the first two nights and find out that shipping company Waxholmsbolaget runs regular ferry services to many of the archipelago’s bigger islands. That was it.

It worked brilliantly.
At least it did once I got over the shock that the first campsite we arrived at didn’t have running water - or indeed any fresh water. You see, having been to Norway several times before, if I associated Scandinavia with one thing, it was an abundance of the latter! Not so in the archipelago. However, we quickly got used to washing in the sea, using a pit latrine and carrying drinking water with us at all times – bought or pumped up with the help of lovely old-fashioned handle pumps. It just meant I had to carry even more, especially when we camped wild, because usually there was one shop per island only or even none at all.

This also meant that our diet was rather restricted. Not that we minded much: After all – what’s wrong with living on cinnamon buns and snack salamis during holiday? Moreover, we supplemented it with large quantities of blue- and raspberries. By the handful. They grew almost everywhere which made actually getting somewhere rather tricky: wherever we went, we’d be tempted left, right and centre by juicy berries winking at us, begging to be picked. More often than not it was thanks only to the mosquitos that we’d eventually flee, mouth and hands stained like we were vegetarian beasts of prey.

Once the tent was pitched, we’d go for a splash or swim and afterwards stretch and dry on the sun-baked rocks. They are flat or rounded thanks to huge glaciers that covered the area in the last ice age and smoothed away any protruding bits as the ice sheets slowly moved south. Sometimes you can even see the grooves they left on the rocks' surface. Or we’d go on a hike and explore the island. All were at least partially wooded. While the first island featured many oaks, by far the most common species in the archipelago are birch (Betula pendula) and pine (Pinus sylvestris) on the open and dry rocks and spruce (Picea) along with some deciduous trees such as alders (Alnus) in the damper parts.

Let's have a look on the "dry rocks" first, from a plant lover's point of view. Apart from pines, what are you likely to find? By August, there will be dry tufts or tussocks of grasses - which came in very handy for lighting a fire. Also very common is heather (Calluna vulgaris), in full purplish-mauve flower at that time of year. Bumblebees in particular love it, there is always a busy yet soothing, summery humming around the plants. Sometimes there might be some ferns, though you are much more likely to find all sorts of lichens. The "grass tufts" are also likely to contain some wildflowers - from the Asteracea family, for instance, or harebells (Campanula rotundifolia). And there is juniper (Juniperus communis, usually a dwarf form).

Also on exposed rock - but where hollows meant that rainwater would accumulate - we'd find blueberries (Vaccinium myrtillus) and bog bilberries (V. uliginosum) or lingonberries (V. vitis-idaea) and bog cranberries (V. oxycoccos) amongst Icelandic moss (Cetraria islandica; another lichen). One exciting spot yielded sundew (Drosera rotundifolia), a native carnivorous plant, and the only time we saw cotton grass (Eriophorum) on the islands.

In the damper woods, there were rich pickings, too. And not just the above mentioned blueberries and raspberries. It was a bit too early for fungi, so no foraging on that front, but we found mint and would nibble on wood-sorrel (Oxalis acetosella).  However, I was particularly impressed by the large areas carpeted with liverwort leaves (Hepatica nobilis / Anemone hepatica). Considered a rare native where I come from, here they grew in abundance. At flowering time in early spring it must be an amazing sight. I also spotted many patches of lily-of-the-valley leaves (Convalaria majalis) and some May lily (Maianthemum bifolium).

Oh, and then there was herb-paris (Paris quadrifolia)! I'd never seen the plants in real life before but I recognized them immediately because they looked exactly like a drawing in the children's encyclopaedia I would leaf through again and again decades ago. I remember being fascinated by them as the book said they were "very poisonous". If the slugs, bugs and snails had left them intact, they looked very appealing and striking in their four-leafed symmetry.

Ferns and mosses often would weave a fairy-tale like magic on the woodland floor. The sheer variety especially of the mosses was astonishing, their soft emerald cushions just crying out to be stroked. The highlight however had to be an orchid still in flower: Epipactis helleborine, the broad-leaved helleborine. About 60 cm tall and at the peak of perfection, it really made my day.

Coming across the orchids in the first place may well have been down to the fact that the island was a nature reserve. The Archipelago Foundation, a bit like the National Trust in Britain perhaps, owns and looks after 40 such nature reserves which together represent about 12% of the Stockholm archipelago's area. The aim is not just to preserve but to make accessible, too. We visited (and stayed at) two of these: Finnhamn, our first stop, and Grinda, our last. Our personal favourite, however, was one of the outermost islands in the Northern part of the archipelago - far out towards the open sea.

I haven't mentioned the meadows yet, which along with the shorelines are also an important part of the islands differing habitats. Species rich, Greater knapweed (Centaurea scabiosa) was one of the most obvious wildflowers still in bloom there. They supported vast numbers of butterflies, a never-ending delight to us. What could be more appealing then crawling out of your tent on a summery morning, then eating breakfast (kind of) in your pyjamas under a bright blue sky, following butterflies – cinnamon bun in hand – from one flower to the next until you spot one that’s even more beautiful? The stuff that holiday dreams are made of... 

You might also enjoy the following posts:

                        Gone native: Madeira aside from its gardens and parks

                        Can gardeners turn green with envy?

P.S. On an (even more) personal level: Regular readers amongst you will have noticed that I "missed" one post in August. While going on holidays seems the obvious reason, this is not the case. I had prewritten two posts and they were published here whilst we were away.
However, some things you can't plan for, it's part of life. Like sickness. So on our return the whole family came down with a stomach bug, one after the other. For one of us however, it ultimately revealed something far more serious. Something that required and requires life-changing adjustments. Despite this, we are grateful for the way things went as it could have been so much worse.
I do hope sincerely you will stick with me and this blog, even if I may sometimes miss my self-set target of fortnightly postings. Thank you all for reading and have a great autumn! (or spring, of course, if you live in the Southern hemisphere :-)

The advert immediately grabbed my attention: a little girl playing with a pile of autumn leaves and the question "Does this matter?" - YES, I thought. I very very much believe it does! So on I read. And then went online to book a place at the first European Landscape Conference (ELC). It was held last weekend in the grounds of the Royal Agricultural University at Cirencester in the Cotswolds.

Initiator and conference director Jennifer Gayler, herself a garden designer by trade, cited a lecture as the spark that set the ball rolling: "A few years ago I went to a Society of Garden Designers event which focussed on What are gardens for?. After a talk by Dan Pearson that was all about beautiful perennials, fluffy grasses etc., Wendy Tidman stood up and asked the audience a number of questions: Did we know that a recent survey of British 7 - 11 year olds found being outside was the children's least favourite activity? Did we know that 5% of all British five year-olds were already obese? Did we know... and on she went. By the end of her talk pretty much everyone in the audience was left shocked and stunned." 

In the Welcome message for last weekend's event she explains her response: "This Conference has been launched because of a growing awareness of the impact of urbanisation, and its threat to mankind's traditional relationship with the natural world. Many talk about the issue, but we concluded that a suitable forum did not exist for those views to be brought together. We decided to bring together leaders to debate the issue, and to pave a way to perhaps legislate for landscape in the future."

Jennifer cited UN data whereby more than half the world's population already lives in an urban environment, this proportion being much higher in many developed countries. In the UK, for instance, the proportion of urbanites is 80% and the UN predicts in 2050 it will be 80% of all mankind globally. Rather than lament the fact, we should look into what can be done to include nature in the urban environment: the bits between buildings are key here. This is where landscape architects and garden designers come in. But it should not be just them: for it to really work and make a noticeable change for the better, there needs to be a broad alliance with policy makers, local authorities, developers, health care professionals, ... as well as the respective communities. "All stakeholders", then, in business-speak.

At this first ELC, there were mainly landscape architects and garden designers as well as some representatives from the horticultural nursery trade. But the topics of the talks were broad and varied. Because, of course, urban nature comes in many guises: from the obvious nature reserves and wetlands, to urban forests, parks, allotments, private gardens, ponds, roof and vertical greenery to street trees and unused open spaces, such as road verges or brown field sites colonised by "weeds".

Several speakers talked of the difficulties they encountered in their everyday work-life: private clients who are so disconnected from nature already, that they specify "We don't want any soil/ dirt in our garden!" Or who ask the garden designer: "There is leaf litter on the hard surfaces - what do I do?" Or the one who complained in March that nothing had grown much since his garden [in the Northern hemisphere] was planted in November... But likewise they despair about authorities, architects and developers without any understanding of how landscapes (and nature) work. A common complaint was that architects and developers care just about the built objects and often create completely unsustainable landscapes (as in: how buildings are sited on a given plot etc.) before even consulting a landscape designer. Once the buildings are up, however, these mistakes are almost impossible to undo.

In a very passionate talk landscape architect Brita von Schoenaich, for instance, told how her main aim these days is to ensure there are trees - and if at all possible trees that will have the chance to grow big and mature - in any given design or development she is involved with. And how difficult (and often downright impossible) this usually proves to be: due to building regulations, lack of root room for the trees (which tend to be holed up like battery hens), etc. Worried about the future of trees in the city, a future of cities without big street trees, she lobbies with the Tree Design Action Group and went as far as calling for "civil disobedience" amongst her profession in order to sneak in as many trees as possible and make sure they stood a chance of surviving.

And here is an example of just what mutual inspiration and unconventional thinking can do: Brita had mentioned she feared for the quite mature but relatively newly planted trees in London's Kings Cross Square: those responsible did not seem to have arranged any watering of their "green furniture" - which is, of course, vital for any plant until they are established. One of the delegates, Yasmeen, later suggested setting up a social media campaign encouraging all the commuters who pass by daily to empty their half-drunk water bottles on those tree pits. Of very little benefit individually, perhaps, but it could make a real difference when taken up en-masse. This, again, was a recurring theme: We need to communicate and work together and we need to do and start things ourselves rather than wait for authorities or legislators to take the first step.

Someone who took just this kind of self-initiative is Guy Watts. Currently Managing Director at the Sussex-base nursery Architectural Plants, he co-founded the charity Streetscapes. With this social enterprise he kills at least two birds with one stone (not literally, of course, it would rather defeat the purpose of advancing nature in the urban...). Watts noticed a real lack of young people entering the horticultural industry. Streetscapes therefore gives 18 - 25 year olds from disadvantaged backgrounds, usually long-term unemployed, the chance to learn a trade and gain skills and, ultimately, employment by providing apprenticeships in landscape gardening. It also helps to reconnect those young people with nature, of course.

Particularly encouraging in these times of cash-strapped local council coffers is the fact that the charity relies mainly on income from charging for the services they provide like any other landscaping business and receives very little public money, the remainder coming mainly from businesses. In reply to questions about whether it shouldn't be rolled out on a bigger scale, he said such venture needed to be done locally rather than nationally and should be fronted by people these young men and women could relate to, rather some remote celebrity. "Our best ambassadors are our own apprentices: get them to tell and talk about the scheme - that works incredibly well."

Another speaker I found particularly inspirational was Greek landscape architect Thomas Doxiadis. He surprised probably not just me with the theory of a North - South divide within Europe and the wider Mediterranean.  The North, he said, regarded nature as something of a "Big Mother" and awarded it a quasi-religious status. The South, by contrast, where for centuries many major religions had co-existed, clearly viewed nature below the divine and from a far more utilitarian perspective. And whilst Northerners swooned and harped on about the romantic ideal of nature, for Southerners the ideal space was the civic square, or piazza, where people would meet and socialize. Tree Lovers versus City Dwellers, Eco-rich versus Urbanistas, as he termed it. He might be on to something: myself, I'm most certainly the former...

He went on to show several projects he and his practice doxiadis+ had been involved with. Many were concerned with preserving the local landscape or re-introducing nature where it had been lost. Motivated by a deep love for the wild Greek landscape he grew up in, he tries to convince clients to work with rather than against it. Working with and incorporating what's there, rather than imposing some notion of "the Mediterranean". The one example in his talk that stood out for me was what he called Landscapes of Cohabitation. Approached by a developer who wanted to build several villas on a so-far comparatively sparse but native species-rich island site, he managed to persuade his client that the unique selling point would (or should) be precisely this unspoiled local nature rather than the 'swimming-pool plus lawn and bougainvillea-clad pergola' stereotype of a Mediterranean property. The knock-out argument, Doxiadis said, is that this approach is also much cheaper than the conventional alternative.

Starting from there, he worked with the natural territory. Roads, for instance, would follow or run in parallel with contours or existing structures of the land, such as dry-stone walling of ancient terraces. His plans even included a mock-up of construction areas because, he said, most damage to nature is not done by the buildings finally there but by access roads, dumping sites etc. needed during construction. As for the villa "gardens": only very close to the houses would there be irrigation, a compromise reached with the developer who feared otherwise being unable to "sell" them. But even the plants close to the houses would be from dry, sunny climes thus blending in with the surroundings. They also added native Greek plants, grown on contract, to the landscape. The principle here being that these additions would be sparser and sparser the further from the house, leaving room for local species to come in and mingle, the better to blend with the wild landscape beyond.

Whilst this project was not an urban one, there surely can be lessons for urban developments, too. After all, cities sprawl and new, previously rural sites, are added to it in many cases. Also, a brown field site  that is turned into, say, a new neighbourhood could be designed likewise by blending native species with those from similar climes to turn it into a "local" looking landscape rather than employing the conventional "ornamental" design approach.

An advocate of just such a blending of the natural with the cultural is James Hitchmough, Head of the Landscape Department at Sheffield University. Reminding us that "Nature" is a strongly constructed and contested idea, he suggested that the question always was and is: Who's nature? He argued there were three basic approaches to planting design: the traditional-conventional; the laissez-fair (best represented perhaps in habitat restoration where nature is left "to take its course") and, he said, his own work where he developed the territory between these two polar opposites.

Arguably his best-known work is that on the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park in London where he and his colleague Nigel Dunnett put their ideas and research into practice. (The Olympic Park, a showpiece, inspiration and role model for modern urban landscaping, was the subject of another talk, by Dr Philip Askew of the London Legacy Development Corporation.) At the conference, however, Hitchmough more than anything made an impassioned plea to "get off this Native vs. Alien thing!" because any notion of what counts as a native and what counts as an alien species is no more than a snapshot in time. In geological terms, everything is in constant flux. The aliens of yesteryear are considered natives today, so will be the aliens of today in the future.

Returning to the theme of "Does this matter?", i.e. how to re-connect people with nature, Michael Westley made a strong case for getting all stakeholders on board and together at the table, so to speak. Especially those who are influential in health care funding and the planners and designers of public spaces and landscapes! 

Referring to statistics that show government funding of Public Health services and Children's Social Care has steadily increased over the past 50 years whilst funding for Parks and Recreation has decreased, he pointed out that there was a convincing argument to reverse this trend. More emphasis should be placed on preventing people to need these health and social care services in the first place. And a huge body of research shows that green spaces and nature can do just that! Yet far too often still is greenspace viewed as irrelevant or of indeterminable benefit to a community and thus as a luxury - rather than a necessity. But, Westley said, it is far more effective to spend £1 on improving or the upkeep of neighbourhood environments than on another strip of prescribed pills!

Maybe the European Landscape Conference could broaden its approach next time to include precisely those Public Health people and influentials. Or how about inviting people from e.g. the National Trust whose campaign "50 things to do before you are 11 ¾" I admire since they do so much to inspire children to get out of doors and connect with nature. Even though the NT's campaign is likely to be self-selective, i.e. the majority of children taking part is probably white and middle-class, they could talk about their campaign, the response of the public and the experiences they've gained.

Or how about starting an even broader debate? For instance: How about changing the national curriculum for primary school children so that they will go out on  "field trips" with a science teacher and learn to identify (or at least name) local trees and native wildflowers as was so common about 100 - 150 years ago? A debate about whether terms like acorn, cornflower or jay should be included in a junior dictionary. Linking up with as many interested parties as possible certainly seems advantageous - from horticultural therapy charity Thrive to forest schools.


       Getting together all the voices concerned with the subject can only strengthen the cause


And there certainly are hands-on initiatives about. I learned about one particularly interesting and encouraging example when I met Liz Ware, a fellow "audience member". Unlike me, however, she's far more involved in the subject matter already. One of her recent projects was to convince gardens open to the public to set aside part of their greenspace as "silent space" where the public is asked to switch off mobile phones etc. and just focus on the natural environment and its sounds. Because, she said, increasingly not even our greenspaces are places for quiet reflection. "Silent space" is trying to address and reverse this trend. 

Liz's project is part of the Landscape Gardens and Health Network, an online resource for anyone interested in the role of gardens and designed space for health. According to Liz who helped set it up, they want to compile and provide evidence beyond the purely statistical and include the often over-looked anecdotal as well - not least to bolster the argument for those trying to push for better funding, for new projects, for permission to start a community garden etc.. I've signed up to their free network before I even started working on this post :-)!

But to return to the European Landscape Conference: This time around, sadly there weren't nearly as many delegates as one would have wished to see. The organizers repeatedly stressed that this not-for-profit event had met with an enthusiastic response by almost all whom they'd approached to speak. And most attendees - like myself - will have felt it well worth their time (and money). But in the end the organizers will have to break even and I'm not sure the high-profile backing from the Society of Garden Designers and the British Association of Landscape Industries (BALI) as well as several more sponsors and supporters from the green industry will be enough in the long-run. Nonetheless: if not in conference form, then perhaps as an organized network - I sincerely hope now that the seed has been planted, the ELC will grow into  something big. It certainly is an important and timely topic. And if you feel so too, or know someone who might be interested in taking part, perhaps you could contact them so they know there is more than a theoretical demand out there.


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                   Urban wilderness - urban oasis: Phytology in Bethnal Green

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