Two weeks ago I went to Berlin - to the World Green Infrastructure Congress (WGIC), mostly. Those of you who have been following this blog for a while might know that lately I've become more interested in how to green urban areas. And this mainly is what "green infrastructure" stands for. If you want to be even more precise, it is to do with greening buildings or built structures: roofs, facades, inside them - the whole lot. As opposed to conventional parks, gardens and allotments on the ground. So in order to learn more about the current state of affairs - or debate - in this field I went to said conference. It proved highly interesting.

Like for many people probably, it was Patrick Blanc with his artistically planted green walls who first captured my attention and imagination years ago. What a vision: a city where instead of staring at grey concrete and dirty bricks the walls were covered in lush greenery! I remember breaking my budget when his book "The Vertical Garden. From Nature to the City" was first published... Hence I really had looked forward to his introductory talk - the sprinkling of "stardust" to the conference - and he didn't disappoint. Lively and engaging he took everyone on a journey from his first attempts at creating green panels in his home about 30 years ago to the high-profile and highly prestigious projects of latter years.

Being a plant scientist first, he spoke about how he searches around the world for plants (or plant communities) that are naturally adapted to growing on near-vertical surfaces: from boulders and waterfalls in the tropical rainforests to cliff faces in karst mountains. These natural candidates he then aims to harness for use in his Mur Végétals. Visual appeal (different textures and shapes, for instance) being as - or almost as - important as adaption to the situation. Lately, he seems to increasingly look for plants native to a project's location: in an example from Japan he pointed out how he had collected plants from mountains and forests just 15 - 20 km away, had a local nursery propagate them to provide the numbers required and then included them in the green wall, adding educating panels for people to relate to it all the better.

What distinguishes his walls from many other offerings that exist today, I think, is that they are also a form of art - almost like a painting. The drifts of plants flow into each other seamlessly whilst with more conventional green walls you'll get what I'd call a "pixelated effect", the grid of modules clearly visible. Which, of course, makes maintenance easier since you can easily exchange plants that have died or suffered for new ones.

I have heard people say that Blanc's are - in terms of the benefits usually expected of green walls - among the least efficient. This may well be, but as a means of raising awareness, capturing the public imagination - in short: in terms of marketing and public relations and making the case for greening facades - they are hard to surpass. I witnessed a lady working for a large store with an indoor green wall by Blanc who was there to meet participants of the WGIC on a field trip to green infrastructure examples around Berlin: she positively eulogised about Blanc's work. It seemed genuine, all the more so for being expressed privately in talk with some visitors rather than in an official capacity.

But back to the conference. There were two days jam-packed full of talks – almost 100 – and the biggest challenge, for me at least, was to choose which ones to attend as usually five took place at the same time! Which, I guess, is a credit to the organizers (chiefly, the German wing (FBB) of the World Green Infrastructure Network as well as its European counterpart (EFB) ) - for putting together such a high-calibre programme. Speakers as well as participants (more than 800 had registered) came from all over the world, making this a truly international affair. Apparently, it was the biggest such conference about green infrastructure held in Europe to date by a wide margin.

Topics covered ranged far and wide: from urban rainwater management to research into the improvements to room-climate plants can make – and how to keep the latter happy, too. From a survey of the vegetation on green roofs 20 – 30 years after they had been installed to talks on zero-acreage farming (the latter is the term used for urban food production which does not take up a separate “foot print” on the ground because it uses roofs, facades or rooms in existing buildings). From the legal framework and financial incentives available to build green infrastructure to IT tools designed to help architects, landscape designers, developers and those responsible in local authorities to do just that and work towards greener cities. And of course there were many real-life and best practice examples as well as bold visions for the future.

As I do not have a specialist area of interest, I tried to attend as broad a range of talks as possible, with perhaps a small bias towards trends and visions for the future. Of these, one of the most impressive I thought the presentation by speakers from Singapore who told the audience about the city state’s Greening the Skies programme: a concerted effort to green a city where due to the extremely limited space available (in terms of land area) the only way for developers is upwards.

The most impressive bit of all is that much of this green infrastructure isn’t just plans on a drawing board - but exists for real already. It definitely wasn’t just my jaw which dropped! There was an audible murmur and sighing amongst the audience, the general consensus seeming to be that many wished they would be given the chance to create projects like these just once in their life… And that we had a lot of catching up to do in these parts of the world! 

In fairness though: the climate in Singapore is so conductive to plant growth you could probably plant a broom stick and it would sprout leafs – a definite advantage compared to our European cities where you often have to content with (and find suitable plants for) freezing conditions in winter and hot periods of draught in summer. Still: as a vision of what can be done if the political will and commitment is there, these talks certainly were an inspiration.

Nearer to home there were case studies from Berlin and other German and European cities, such as Vienna, Paris, Porto and Amsterdam. For London, Dusty Gedge - who also is President of conference co-organisers EFB - gave a ten-year review of “Delivering Biodiversity and Green Infrastructure” in my adopted city, and Pete Massini spoke about “Greening a green city – the London experience”. Personally, I’ve always considered Berlin to be a much greener city than London, but I suspect statistics aren’t on my side: it’s just that trees in streets are much more visible than the many private gardens and squares tucked behind houses and walls.

So why do we need green infrastructure in the first place? As I wrote in an earlier post, urban green is not just a "nice-to-have-if-you-can-afford-it" kind of thing: there are reasons galore to green up our cities. The positive effect of nature on human well-being - physical as well as mental - are well-documented. But there is much more: in times of shrinking natural habitats for flora and fauna, urban green increasingly helps protect biodiversity by adding man-made refuges and by creating wildlife corridors. Obviously, it thus increases urban biodiversity, too.

And if you look at it more selfishly: urban green improves air quality and reduces a city’s heat island effect when temperatures are rising – something we all benefit from. It also can play a role in reducing energy consumption and using energy more efficiently. For example, one speaker mentioned findings that the air-conditioning system of a building with a green roof needs 20 - 50 % less energy than one without a green roof – quite simply because the green infrastructure will have cooled the air down a bit already before it enters the air-conditioning system.

With climate change and its accompanying challenges for the environment as well as the economy, green infrastructure will be increasingly instrumental – even decisive - to help us cope. Those were, of course, prominent themes. But a very large number of talks also looked at the non-quantifiable benefits of getting more plants (and with them nature) into cities. In addition to the above mentioned effects on human well-being, increasingly the focus - not just of research - is on social cohesion, too. About creating places to get together, learn and interact, such as community gardens or social enterprises.

Another talk I particularly liked was one on biophilic design: The speaker argued that evolution had hardwired us to like certain natural features - such as water or a sheltered spot with a good view or vantage point - which were of advantage to our ancestor's survival and that hence we consider these to represent beauty. Apparently, the term was first used in 1973 by Erich Fromm with many publications into the subject following since. Referencing from some of these, he pointed out that there is a clear business case for biophilic design which means designing environments based on human evolutionary preferences. 

To take just the example of the work place: productive, healthy people are good for business. With the mantra "where we feel well, we perform well", productivity is the watchword here. Especially, he said, since productivity costs are 87 times greater than energy costs in the workplace. In one example there was apparently a 299% return on investment. There are, the speaker claimed (and it sounds logical enough), huge potential financial savings to be had across many sectors of society. It is actually possible to scientifically measure the physiological impact of design (i.e. the health benefits or lack thereof) - such as for instance on  blood pressure. He thus urged architects, landscape designers and of course developers to turn to and apply biophilic design - and not just in commercial developments.

Finally, on the practical side of things (and without having expert knowledge to boost this claim), technology developed by European project Green4cities is likely to prove particularly useful and relevant in the near future. It is billed as a planning and certification tool for green infrastructure that can be fully integrated in the urban planning  and development process. Detailed simulations of  microclimates (of e.g. an urban area in its present state as well as with planned changes implemented), of water retention, wind fields and the storing of CO2 are just part of it. There is also a "toolbox" for urban development and planning which starts with an assessment of the current situation and its problems leading to a simulation of more general or large-scale urban designs and/ or allows the detailed planning for individual quarters.

About twenty years ago I first came across gardening magazine Gardens Illustrated. Not long after, it was part of a broad range of other British gardening mags I analysed in depth for my final thesis from university. I’ve been a loyal reader since. But one thing I still remember from those first editions I came across is a one page column about lesser known woody plants recommended to gardeners by one Roy Lancaster. At the time I had no outside growing space (and would not for another ten years), so it seems strange this in particular stuck in my mind.

It might have been the enthusiasm for each plant with which it was written, it might have been the excitement of learning about new plants. But there were so very many fabulous plants new to me. Looking back, I guess the decisive thing about this column was that its author was described as a "plant hunter” if I remember correctly. Until then I had believed the days of plant hunters were long over. Plants had been discovered, named and introduced from all parts of the world and that was that. Plant hunting as a career was extinct. Apparently not so. How incredibly exciting!

Since then, I’ve come across Roy Lancaster’s name many a time (despite never having watched the BBC’s Gardeners’ World or listened to Gardeners’ Question Time) and discovered just what a luminary he is in the world of horticulture. Two weeks ago – hot off the press – I finally got my hands on the book I’ve been looking forward to ever since first learning about it: Roy Lancaster’s autobiography, My life with plants.

It is, in one sentence, exactly what it says on the tin. But it is much more. Since Roy Lancaster over the course of his career has met so many, if not most, of its influential figures, this book is also a snapshot of the world of British horticulture during the past half century. Not a concise history of it, but a snapshot of important players and the network existing between them, as well as a wealth of information of how things were done. Historians will love it one day as it is such a rich source to mine.

Starting with his childhood, he devotes roughly a chapter each to the various stages in his career. From apprenticeship with the Parks Department in his native Bolton to National Service in Malaya; from studies at the Cambridge University Botanic Gardens to his eighteen years at the world famous Hillier nursery and arboretum; from first going freelance to getting involved with the BBC. Naturally, there are also chapters about his travels as a plant hunter and finally about the rare plants he grows in his own garden.

Truth be told, I would have loved more on the plant hunting! But he has covered much of that elsewhere, notably in his weighty tome Travels in China: A Plantsman’s Paradise and its companion A Plantsman in Nepal. One day, hopefully, I'll get around to finish reading those books... (They are still in the 1.50 metre tall stack of books next to my bed, it's just a matter of finding the time. :-) )

I was lucky enough to hear Roy Lancaster talk about his life a year ago at Kew. If I feel one tiny disappointment about the book, it’s that his lively voice and facial expressions, the beaming smile and twinkle in the eye, the sheer exuberance which captured his audience does not so readily translate onto the page. You can't blame the author for that though – a written account of course is a different thing to a live talk.

Still, Lancaster’s narrative style is much like that of a grandfather telling stories about his youth: full of detail which along the way enlightens about a society and way of life the younger generations never got to know for themselves. A grandfather whom you really enjoy listening to because his tales are studded with amusing anecdotes throughout. Many, of course, are plant related – but by no means all as when he talks about his early love of steam trains.

                             Anecdotes and listings of plants spotted all over the world

I loved being told, for instance, that as a boy he used to press plants between newspapers under the living room carpet (!). I too spent many hours pressing plants between blotting paper as a child. Unlike Roy Lancaster’s, however, they were not destined for something as educational as a herbarium: I would later assemble them into “pictures” on notecards which I’d then gift to family members as birthday or Christmas presents. Lancaster seems to have been far more serious-minded

Something that struck me as perhaps typically male is his seemingly life-long enthusiasm for using and making lists, finding and ticking off plants in the wild. A habit like trainspotting. Myself, I dearly love wild plants and will always keep an eye open and of course enjoy finding plants that are rare. But I would never dream of going somewhere with a local flora in hand, seeing whether I could find them all, too, or travel to a particular location to track down one specific species. But then I’m not a botanist.

And yes, you probably have to be a bit of a plant nut to fully enjoy the book, at least it helps. Still, even those who aren’t will find plenty of interest - and you could always skim the passages describing which plants Lancaster spied when and where. Anyway, what else would you expect from one of the most eminent plantspeople of our age?

                                Snippets of information galore: Alternative tobacco, anyone?

What really surprised me though was how committed and confident he must have been from early on in order to write letters and send specimens of plants he had collected to various experts and institutions. Whether corresponding with Kew as an apprentice or with the Singapore Botanical Gardens whilst being stationed on Malaya during his army years: I don’t think I would have had the courage to do so. Or indeed have thought of it and taken the initiative, especially at such a relatively young age.

Also, back with the book now, there is much that gardeners will recognize, usually hidden in mere asides. Like when he mentions feeding the nasty grubs of wine weevil to a friendly Robin and falling in love with the genus Primula. But with Lancaster, these observations of plants in the garden are then accompanied by memories of seeing them grow wild in their natural home by their thousands! There are nuggets, too, concerning other plant hunters - current and of days gone by. I never knew, for example, that Primula florindae with its sulphur-yellow drooping flowers was named after Frank Kingdon-Ward’s first wife – “blonde and long-legged Florinda”.

And anyone who’s ever attempted the same will readily understand his delight to see seed brought back from afar grow and get established, perhaps even flower, at home. Mine aren’t new or even rare finds, but that doesn’t mean they give me any less pleasure: the Kowhai (Sophora tetraptera) and Southern rata (Metrosideros umbellata) from New Zealand, the Swiss cheese plants (Monstera deliciosa) from fruit bought at a Madeira market (which eventually, due to their size, we had to give away), the Bomarea (caldasii, I believe) from a trackside near the El Altar mountains in Ecuador and others like them.

My own interest in plant hunting and faraway shores, by the way, was awakened by my favourite book – quoted in this blog before – about a naturalist and his ten year-old daughter’s travels to Madagascar. I first learned of Marco Polo from its pages and jungle descriptions and the little girl’s quest for a Madagascan orchid in particular fired my imagination. But growing up behind The Wall, for an East German there was next to no chance to travel abroad and so I just dreamed. The orchid mentioned in the book meanwhile must have been Angraecum sesquipedale, Darwin’s orchid: its flowers’ long spur led Darwin to surmise that a moth with a particularly long proboscis existed - which later was indeed found to be true.

To sum up then: Roy Lancaster’s autobiography is a fascinating read. Most people who are into plants will not only find much to learn but have memories of their own triggered. Having gone through a horticultural apprenticeship myself years ago, mine mainly bubbled up whilst reading the account of his early horticultural education. The mention of countless clay pots to be cleaned with cold water during his years at Bolton, for instance, had me shivering again as I remembered why to this day I have a hearty dislike for heathers. But that’s a story for some other blogpost perhaps…