{"id":11620,"date":"2022-03-08T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-03-07T23:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/c01.purpledshub.com\/bbccountryfile\/?post_type=purple_issue&p=11620"},"modified":"2022-03-23T15:49:25","modified_gmt":"2022-03-23T14:49:25","slug":"blackthorn-beauty","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/c01.purpledshub.com\/bbccountryfile\/2022\/03\/08\/blackthorn-beauty\/","title":{"rendered":"Blackthorn beauty"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Blackthorn beauty<\/h2>\n\n

As March turns to April, millions of tiny blooms spring from the spiny shrubs in our hedgerows, covering their dark stems in creamy white blossom. Adele Brand<\/strong> writes in praise of the unsung but resilient blackthorn<\/p>\n\n

I <\/span>call it the fragrant frost. It arrives with a shiver at winter\u2019s end when a cruel north-east wind blows \u2013 so the legends say, but then folklore has never seen the best in blackthorn. It is true enough that the hills seem dozy, with trees bare and sombre beside meadows bereft of wildflowers. And there, suddenly, impossibly, spring\u2019s pioneer splashes brilliant white paint over hedgerows with such impatience that its own leaves miss the show.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

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Mature blackthorn trees can grow to a height of seven metres and live to 100 years <\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n

Blackthorn, black bark, white blossom: a warm snowfall that wafts sweet almond perfume. Flowers of five petals apiece and long stamens tumbling; so tightly do they cluster that the limbs that bear them are but shadows in the veil, black stems sturdy beneath. In March and April, blackthorn celebrates contrast like an artist working in monochrome.<\/p>\n\n

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Frothy white clouds of blackthorn blossom brighten field edges<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n

But who is the performer? Blackthorn lacks the fame awarded to many larger trees, yet quietly embeds itself in folklore, landscapes and all frequently in flesh \u2013 its thorns are long thin spears whose tips can survive months inside their victim. Packed with alkaloids, the inflammation can be fierce. Yet blackthorn defies easy judgment. Its brutality is useful; we have recruited it as a livestock-proof barrier for at least 4,500 years, and pruned twigs unearthed in Cambridgeshire are thought to be evidence of the world\u2019s oldest hedging. Still a mixed blessing, it often wanders via suckers from where we plant it, invading agricultural fields and rare chalk <\/span>grasslands. It is nicknamed the Mother of Woods, for where it goes, other trees may follow.<\/p>\n\n

Beneficial but rebellious, adaptable yet stubborn, blackthorn is an old but unwilling servant.<\/p>\n\n

Perhaps it\u2019s no surprise that such a contrary shrub jumps into spring when almost all its peers remain in bud. The hedgerow, a dormant tangle for so long, is alive. Bees crowd into the dainty white flowers; blackthorn is a vital bridge through the \u2018hungry gap\u2019 at the beginning of spring.<\/p>\n\n

It was long part of farmers\u2019 calendars, too: \u201cWhen blackthorn is as white as a sheet, sow your barley, whether it be dry or wet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n

The petals fall as spring warms up, and another shrub steals human attention. Hawthorn is of a distinctly softer character than its neighbour in the hedgerow, with relatively tame thorns and a confetti of blossom that \u2013 unlike blackthorn \u2013 opens after the plant has come into leaf. Its show lacks blackthorn\u2019s stark absolutes of dark and light, but while hawthorn is honoured with May Day traditions, blackthorn\u2019s own leaves finally emerge. Small, toothed and oval, they were once used to adulterate tea.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

\"\"
Blackthorn thorns can cause acute infections; blackthorn hedgerows are favoured homes for harvest mice; many species of lichen thrive on blackthorn twigs; caterpillars of the black hairstreak feed almost exclusively on blackthorn leaves<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

Blackthorn becomes a busy place. Finches and warblers nest within its sharp embrace, and if the red-backed shrike eventually reclaims its status as a British breeding bird, we will again see it spearing beetles and other prey on blackthorn\u2019s spikes. In the meantime, blackthorn has other celebrities. In June, in a few dozen sunny thickets on clay soils in the East Midlands, the endangered black hairstreak butterfly takes briefly to the wing. So elusive it was not identified as a unique species until the 19th century, the black hairstreak is dependent on blackthorn. More widespread across southern Britain but also rare and declining is the brown hairstreak, rich dark wings smudged with tiger-orange. Blackthorn hosts its eggs.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

Come nightfall, hazel dormice clamber through the tangle, avoiding dense thickets but often selecting blackthorn for their nests in mixed hedgerows. Moths flutter: the tiny blackthorn argent and the lackey, with its peach stripes, are two amongst many. Other guests stay for a lifetime \u2013 dozens of lichens colour blackthorn\u2019s finger-like twigs, 33 species identified in just one study at Dungeness.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

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BOTANIST\u2019S BLACKTHORN<\/span><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Blackthorn\u2019s scientific name is Prunus <\/em>spinosa; <\/em>the genus Prunus <\/em>is made up of 430 species of stone fruits. It may look roughly like an unpolished version of hawthorn, but blackthorn\u2019s true cousins are world famous: apricots, almonds and cherries. Blackthorn was long thought to be an ancestor of the cultivated European plum but genetic analysis has questioned this. Its relationship to the damson, which blackthorn strongly resembles, remains unclear. Prunus<\/em>species share their fruit and showy blossom across the northern hemisphere, from desert plums in California to bird cherries in Japan. Blackthorn itself is found from north-west Africa through Europe to western Asia, and is widely cultivated in China. It has been introduced to North America and New Zealand.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div><\/section>\n\n

SLOE TIME<\/span><\/h4>\n\n

As dawn mists rise from rivers and skies turn pale with high autumnal clouds, the end product of all those flowers finally comes on show. Sloes<\/p>\n\n

\u2013 purplish, clustered, somewhere between a blueberry and a grape in looks, tempt the unwary for a nibble. \u201cThey left the mouth dry and sent a curious shiver down one,\u201d records a Victorian writer from Dorset. So astringent are sloes that they were once sucked in the hope of curing gumboils, and fed to cattle with chalk and water to heal flux. Modern science has found its own uses: properties that may fight colon cancer and promote wound healing have been extracted.<\/p>\n\n

Sloes are also high in antioxidants, although levels of these vary between plants.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

\"\"
Pick sloes when squishably ripe; sloes are a vital part of the fieldfare\u2019s diet; this blackthorn walking stick was owned by James Craig, Northern Ireland\u2019s first Prime Minister; freeze sloes to rupture the fruit before using them in desserts <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

The most familiar use of sloes is culinary. Once the first frost has ruptured the fruit, it is gathered into a jar, mixed with sugar and gin and left corked in a dark room. One old recipe adds penny-royal and valerian, and was called \u2018mother\u2019s ruin\u2019. Sloes can also be boiled and turned into jelly, known as kixies jelly on the Isle of Wight. In 19th-century London, unripened sloe juice was used to create fake port wine.<\/p>\n\n

As with all foraging, it is important to leave enough sloes on the plant to support wildlife. Mistle thrushes and fieldfares will exploit them, and drop the stones far from the parent plant.<\/p>\n\n

INK AND WEAPONS<\/span><\/h4>\n\n

As the sloes wither, blackthorn\u2019s year can be said to be done, but in its raw form with no blossom, leaves or fruit, its thin hard bones huddle in the hedgerow to intrigue winter walkers. The bark is smooth and purple-back, and it is easy to imagine how it caught the eye of medieval ink-makers. Soaking blackthorn twigs in rainwater and mixing the paste with cherry-tree gum produces a mixture that was familiar to many scribes.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

Blackthorn wood finds its way into our hands to aid our journeys. A walking stick to many, in Ireland it was often used to craft the bata or traditional cudgel. A formidable weapon, it is a final reminder that blackthorn, while helpful in many ways, has a fierce side, and perhaps its struggle with humanity is not entirely unreasonable. It remains abundant, but often in poor health from drastic hedge flailing. By managing blackthorn hedgerows more leniently, we can preserve not only brown hairstreaks and lichens but also the folklore that we have woven around this gloriously spiny, obstinate, richly blossomed shrub. <\/span><\/p>\n\n

<\/p>\n\n

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LEGENDS OF THE HEDGEROW<\/span><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps it is the thorns. Mythology views blackthorn with a dubious eye, casting it as a plant of ill omen, witches and doom. \u201cMany slones [sloes], many groans, many [hazel]nuts, many pits [graves]\u201d, goes an old Devon rhyme, perhaps related to the old idea that a bountiful autumn signalled a dire winter. Witches and heretics were said to have been burned on blackthorn pyres, while English witches supposedly pricked people with the thorns. In Germany, it was known as the wishing thorn, and used instead of hazel as a divining rod; in Irish mythology, winter begins when the Cailleach \u2013 the winter goddess \u2013 strikes the ground with a blackthorn staff. In Sandwich in Kent, the mayor still carries a blackthorn wand. It could be said that blackthorn is overdue some myths where it is not cast as the villain.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div><\/section>\n\n

\"\" Adele Brand is a wildlife researcher, ecologist, writer and author of The Hidden World of the Fox (William Collins, \u00a312.99).<\/em><\/p>\n\n

Photos: Getty, Alamy, Bridgeman, Naturepl.com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As March turns to April, millions of tiny blooms spring from the spiny shrubs in our hedgerows, covering their dark stems in creamy white blossom. 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