As someone who would happily vote for hibernation from early November till the end of February because the dark, grey days of winter severely dampen my spirits and sap any energy from me, I have to make deliberate efforts to go out and "cure" myself. One of the best cures I know - a holiday somewhere warm and sunny being not on the menu - is spending time in a well-stocked greenhouse.
Unfortunately, I never had one of my own - so instead I seek out those in botanical gardens and the like. I distinctly remember that when I spent a winter in Aberdeen, Scotland, as a student the amazing public winter gardens there became a lifesaver. Here in London I make a pilgrimage to Kew Gardens to lift my mood whenever I get a chance. I've contemplated moving in with the palms and orchids for the dark season but I'm not sure I'd be allowed to.
Unfortunately, I never had one of my own - so instead I seek out those in botanical gardens and the like. I distinctly remember that when I spent a winter in Aberdeen, Scotland, as a student the amazing public winter gardens there became a lifesaver. Here in London I make a pilgrimage to Kew Gardens to lift my mood whenever I get a chance. I've contemplated moving in with the palms and orchids for the dark season but I'm not sure I'd be allowed to.
Wintery Palm House in the Royal Botanic Gardens Kew
 What a contrast inside... |  ...tamed jungle in Kew's Palm House |
It is just so comforting to come in from the cold and grey to the warmth and humidity of the greenhouses, lush with plants and the smell of damp soil and growth. Last Sunday I was sure they were playing tropical bird song via some hidden sonic system to enhance the illusion of being somewhere far away in a less depressing clime, until I spotted the robin redbreasts!
Of course, I really should know their song as we have one singing under our window every morning. But it was so unexpected inside that tropical jungle of the Palm House! Rather than going 'Oh, it's just a robin' however, I admired our little native singers all the more and listened gratefully. Were they accidentally trapped inside? Or did they live the dream and overwinter in there? The little birds seemed happy enough, for sure.
glasshouse encounters: robins and Lady Doorly's morning glory
While Kew's Palm House is possibly my favourite, it was in the Princess of Wales Conservatory that I came across a plant which had stopped me in my tracks in previous years already. I am talking of Ipomoea horsfalliae var. briggsii, a member of the Convolvulaceae and close relative of the plant that goes by the common name of Morning Glory. In fact, one of Ipomoea horsfalliae's English names is Lady Doorly's Morning Glory - which makes me wonder: who was dear Mrs Doorly?
Other common names are Cardinal Creeper and Prince Kuhio vine (the latter apparently because a Hawaiian prince Kuhio was very taken with it and introduced it to his garden). If the internet is to be believed - and I had to rely on the internet as none of my books mentions Ipomoea horsfalliae - the plant originally hails from South America and is now naturalized in the Caribbean. Its palmate leaves remind me of those from Passiflora caerulea and like the latter, it is an abundantly flowering climber.
Of course, I really should know their song as we have one singing under our window every morning. But it was so unexpected inside that tropical jungle of the Palm House! Rather than going 'Oh, it's just a robin' however, I admired our little native singers all the more and listened gratefully. Were they accidentally trapped inside? Or did they live the dream and overwinter in there? The little birds seemed happy enough, for sure.
glasshouse encounters: robins and Lady Doorly's morning glory
While Kew's Palm House is possibly my favourite, it was in the Princess of Wales Conservatory that I came across a plant which had stopped me in my tracks in previous years already. I am talking of Ipomoea horsfalliae var. briggsii, a member of the Convolvulaceae and close relative of the plant that goes by the common name of Morning Glory. In fact, one of Ipomoea horsfalliae's English names is Lady Doorly's Morning Glory - which makes me wonder: who was dear Mrs Doorly?
Other common names are Cardinal Creeper and Prince Kuhio vine (the latter apparently because a Hawaiian prince Kuhio was very taken with it and introduced it to his garden). If the internet is to be believed - and I had to rely on the internet as none of my books mentions Ipomoea horsfalliae - the plant originally hails from South America and is now naturalized in the Caribbean. Its palmate leaves remind me of those from Passiflora caerulea and like the latter, it is an abundantly flowering climber.
Ipomoea horsfalliae var. brigsii
With its multitude of magenta-crimson flowers (at least in the variety brigsii) it is a true stunner, but unfortunately by all accounts hard to get hold of as it seems very difficult to propagate. A real pity, I'd say, as I'm sure many people lucky enough to own a conservatory would love such a splash of vivid colour during the winter months. But maybe there'd be more around if people kept asking? Surely, propagation techniques must have improved - even if micro-propagation was too expensive?
Since Ipomoea horsfalliae var. brigsii is also said to be a comparatively slow grower, I'd be tempted to try it myself in a pot: outside in summer and inside in winter, as it cannot stand frost and apparently should be kept at a minimum temperature of 10° C. Ah well, one day...
Since Ipomoea horsfalliae var. brigsii is also said to be a comparatively slow grower, I'd be tempted to try it myself in a pot: outside in summer and inside in winter, as it cannot stand frost and apparently should be kept at a minimum temperature of 10° C. Ah well, one day...
Ipomoea horsfalliae var. brigsii flowers in full-frontal close-up
In the meantime I tried to convince myself that spring was just around the corner: there were snowdrops in bloom at Kew, too, and last week I also saw the first daffodils this season near London's Temple gardens. I'm sure the exceptionally mild weather we've experienced so far has nothing to do with this what's-o-ever ;-) ! For the record: the snowdrops I came across were Galanthus plicatus 'Three Ships', G. elwesii var. monostictus and G. elwesii 'Three Leaves'. I'm sure there were more, if only I had looked around the rock garden more closely.
 Galanthus elwesii 'Three Leaves' |  First daffodil of this London season... |
Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus
Whole truth be told, I had wanted to take pictures of "spice plants" in Kew, to illustrate a post about spices for Christmas baking. But we didn't find all the plants I was looking for, and those we did find were either so feeble or the light simply so poor that I didn't get any decent photographs. Nonetheless, further below comes a recipe for a traditional German Christmas pastry called "Elisenlebkuchen" that is a firm favourite in my family and really easy to make, if a little time consuming. If you try it, let me know how you got on and if it is to your taste.
So Merry Christmas to you all wherever you are!! Or, if you don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays! I hope you will have a truly joyful time.
So Merry Christmas to you all wherever you are!! Or, if you don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays! I hope you will have a truly joyful time.
Elisen-Lebkuchen
- 450 g sugar
- 6 eggs
- 20 g vanilla sugar
- 240 g chopped hazelnuts
- 240 g ground almonds (or vise versa: ground hazelnuts, chopped amonds), err on the generous side
- 50 g chopped walnuts
- 200 g mixed peel (i.e. candied orange peel and candied lemon peel)
- the finely grated zest of a lemon and an orange (you will want an untreated, possibly organic, one for that)
- ½ tsp ground cinnamon
- ½ tsp ground nutmeg
- ½ tsp ground coriander
- ½ tsp ground cardamom
- ½ tsp ground cloves
- ½ tsp ground allspice
- edible wafer paper (in German Backoblaten - think 'altar bread'): a pack of 100 at Ø 5cm should be enough; here in Britain I buy a packet of rectangular sheets and fold and rip them to a smaller size. If you can't get hold of edible wafer paper, it may be possible to do without this ingredient as it is "only" the base for the mix: either think of some other neutral tasting thin base (rice paper perhaps?) or try without but make sure you definitely use baking parchment.)
Stir eggs, sugar and vanilla sugar until the sugar has dissolved. Add nuts and almonds, mixed peel, grated lemon and orange zest and the spices and mix thoroughly. Cover mixing bowl and leave to rest somewhere cool for 24 hours.
Put backing parchment/paper on a baking tray and place some edible wafer papers on it. No use to align them as they are unlikely to stay that way J. Give the baking mix a good stir again, right down to the bottom of the bowl. It is meant to be runny, i.e. no solid batter, but if it seems extremely runny you could add extra ground almonds or one or two heaped tablespoons full of flour.
Then, depending on their size, use a teaspoon or tablespoon to put a dollop of the baking mix on the wafers. There should be a rim of the latter left visible as the mix will spread out further during baking.
Bake at about 180 °C for 15 minutes (they should be golden brown, but not too dark). Some people then coat with chocolate, but we are always too lazy for that. Stored in a tin, they will keep for weeks – if you can resist them.
Enjoy!
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