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smaller (only about 10m) and more slow-growing tree, try L. styraciflua 'Moonbeam'. It has creamy yellow young leaves that turn green as the summer progresses before transforming into fine colour.Best to ignore the variegated varieties as they are, I think

. Such was its striking colour that I stopped for a second look, but that was enough to draw attention to myself and it was gone. I'm well used to seeing brown rats in London parks; although it's still quite unnerving to be sitting having a picnic on the grass

.Down on the Rye everything is starting to look very autumnal and the leaves are building up into treacherously slippery mounds. The trees still hold some secrets though. In 1767, a 9- or 10-year-old William Blake saw an oak tree full of angels here. The angel oak

of colour and life; in the majority of cases this is to be welcomed. Hooray for the resurgence of tulips, whoopee for the return of the rose and yippee for the arrival of annuals.However, there are some plants which I am not looking forward to seeing again

of blossom to choose from that it all gets a bit confusing. But my top five at the moment are: Prunus 'Taihaku' - its white flowers have centres the colour of jam stains Prunus cerasifera 'Nigra' - its purple leaves are interesting Prunus 'Cheal's Weeping

strong new shoots from the base. You may need to use long-handled loppers for more leverage if the wood is thick and tough.To rejuvenate old shrubs or coppice shrubs that are grown for the colour of their stems, hard prune all the stems down to 10cm - 15

underwear). It takes about 1500 cocoons to make a pound of silk.In the 19th century there was the equivalent of a gold rush over mulberries in the United States. There was massive speculation and excitement about growing mulberry trees and the long

isn't very old, it's not more than 20cm in diameter at the base, but the bark is rough and gnarled enough to provide the odd nook and cranny for overwintering ladybirds.Surprisingly, these are not the recent alien invader Harmonia axyridis

to keep things going was my 15-year-old son. It seems that so many of their childhood memories are bound up with relaxing on the allotment. At least he should be allowed a stab at keeping it going with Dad. How could I refuse?The truth is that there is a