The countryside in June
Sarah Ryan is making the most of light-filled days, seeking wild flowers on the coast and heath beyond
In June, daylight truly begins to take over the night, and in the Highlands, even at 11pm, the sky is bright enough to hide the stars. This is a wonderful time to walk by the sea, along coastlines that turn from rocky cliffs to stony bays and long enclaves of sand. Many of the rougher areas are now bright with yellow gorse, and early heather is showing its first lilac nubs. In narrow spaces between boulders grow mats of needle-thin golden grass, leaves of sage green lichen and clumps of sea pink, Armeria maritima. This happy little flower pops up in summer in all kinds of exposed, weather-battered places: a straight 6-10in (15-25cm) stem topped with a pom-pom of clustered flowers, each with five candy-floss-pink petals and five yellow anthers.
On the shore, littered with ocean fragments of razor shells, periwinkles, mussels, whelks and bleached driftwood, sprout clusters of low-growing plants. Their tiny four-petalled flowers are surrounded by kidney-shaped leaves. This, I discover, is a member of the cabbage family: scurvy grass, Cochlearia officinalis. Sailors used to eat it between voyages, making the most of its high quantities of vitamin C. It has a bitter, mustardy taste, and the leaves are best harvested young. In June, these are already too dark and fleshy.
Coastal flowers
I am on the look-out for sea campion, Silene uniflora. Also known as dead man’s bells, thanks perhaps to its habit of growing on precipitous cliffs, it thrusts up a multitude of blooms from a carpet of greenery. It has distinctively lobed white flowers, emerging from a large, pink-veined calyx. Biting stonecrop, Sedum acre, is also in flower now and grows in gatherings of starry yellow bursts. Each has five narrow petals and approximately seven long, paler stamens. They look a little like starfish and are very rich in nectar, so the bees are looking for them as eagerly as I am. Its sap is an irritant, and the plant contains alkaloids which are often poisonous, so this is not for consumption. Wild thyme’s fuschia flowers are coming into bloom though and are certainly for eating. I will take just a few stalks so the plant stays healthy and strong. June is wonderful for wild flowers, and away from the coast, they are emerging in abundance. Delicate scarlet poppies, which collapse with only a finger’s touch, spires of pale yellow agrimony and
“But these on the sun-kissed flood Of the corn, that rolls breast deep, Burn redder than drops of blood" Victor James daley, ‘Poppies’
cups of buttery-looking kingcup can be found. Cornflower is a fascinating purple-blue, with a darker feathery heart. Once a common find in cornfields, these days it is more often found in gardens. I am still hoping to spot at least one growing rogue in the countryside. Ragged robin is another rarity, looking as scruffy as its name suggests, but still fighting on.
Adapting to soil
Rowan trees are piled with creamy-white blossom, and even in the relatively nutrient-poor heathland, flowers can be found studding the moor. Butterwort, Pinguicula vulgaris, has rubbery yellow-green leaves that splay against the ground in a star shape, the edges curling gently inwards. From their centre sprouts a tall, thin stem, with a single purple bell. To supplement the meagre nutrients found in the acidic ground, the plant captures water and traps insects on its leaves, which are dotted with sticky mucilage. The flower dangles high above, several inches out of the way, so that pollinators can safely come and go. The round-leaved sundew is another carnivorous plant, sprouting among sphagnum mosses, its pale green leaves covered with vermillion stalks. Its flower also grows on a tall stem, though it seems somewhat shy: I have never seen it in full bloom. Everywhere I go this month, I will have my eyes open for wild flowers, which are opening their petals to the sun. We are all making the most of the light, stretching long into the day.
“Love you not, then, to list and hear The crackling of the gorse-flower near, Pouring an orange-scented tide Of fragrance o'er the desert wide?" William Howitt, ‘A June Day’