News from the Gardens of Philodassiki
These are challenging times for gardens. After three exceptionally mild winters and increasingly warmer summers, the trees, shrubs, and especially the smaller plants are clearly showing signs of distress.
It’s late December, and yet the leaves haven’t fallen. If the unseasonably high temperatures persist, new leaves and blossoms will emerge prematurely, only to be damaged by a sudden frost.
The past summer was incredibly stressful for nature. Here in the botanical garden, it wasn’t so much the lack of water (for now), but the persistently hot winds blowing non-stop for three months and the constant high temperatures that didn’t abate even at night. Even several Cistus plants have dried up completely, showing no signs of recovery. Never before have we seen ivy, laurels, and oleanders completely wither. They will be replaced in the hope that, in the future, they’ll be able to withstand the increasingly harsh conditions they’ll face—which are already here. I shudder to think of a time when the cypresses, pines, and beautiful broadleaf trees may be replaced solely by palms and cacti!
Walking through the botanical garden after the much-needed rains, one feels as though two seasons coexist. Autumn is evident above, with colourful leaves, while Spring is hinted at below, with thyme in bloom and premature crocuses scattered everywhere.
The arbutus trees, for the first time in memory, look feeble, bearing small, dried fruits that not even the jays deign to eat. In other years, they would be laden with juicy berries and thousands of blossoms. Nevertheless, the garden remains a paradise, regularly visited by a fox that sits just metres away from Tasos, the garden’s caretaker, intently eyeing his lunch. Determined, she digs her way under the fence wherever she finds a small gap to pass through. Once Tasos seals the gap, she simply digs another nearby. She is truly beautiful and has every right to be here!
I am less forgiving, however, towards the truly countless tortoises that have overrun both gardens. It seems likely that some well-meaning individuals are bringing them here and placing them inside the garden’s fence, as their sheer number cannot otherwise be explained. While they are rather charming, they are also quite destructive to the species the botanical garden seeks to preserve. They leave no tender leaf unscathed, trample everything in their path, and even topple the small stone walls. Still, we tolerate them as best we can.
I believe the small ponds we maintain, which attract many insects and dragonflies, have been a lifeline for many birds of Mount Hymettus, offering them water during the summer. Quietly approaching, I often see jays, blackbirds, and other smaller birds cooling off there.
Over the past year, we’ve lost several plants—some due to age, others to diseases exacerbated by the unpredictable and constant temperature changes, and others still to general stress. With great sadness, I saw a large white heather (Erica arborea) dry up. It was a particular point of pride for us. We are now trying to source and replant another, though we know it is a challenging plant to transplant. The first step, of course, is to find one.
The Educational Garden:
This is the small garden behind the old apiary, created on what was once a carob nursery. Together with Marina, who tends this garden, we have been frantically pruning, ostensibly to prepare for winter. A vain effort! Everything grows back again, and some plants, such as the Perovskia, are flowering again! The same goes for the green Phlomis, the artichokes, which threaten to bear fruit, and the Salvia leucantha, which remains in bloom. The roses, too, refuse to stop flowering, despite nearly succumbing to the summer heat. In anticipation of winter, we’ve pruned the lavender three times, and yet it continues to bloom. On the one hand, the sight is delightful, but on the other, there’s a lingering fear about how the weather will unfold in the coming months.
Aside from the unexpected four-legged visitors, we’ve also had surprising human ones, even when the garden gates are locked. One day, seeing the garden’s gates closed, a young couple climbed over the fence. They calmly explained to Marina that they had indeed seen the garden was closed, but they had “really wanted to come in”! A somewhat questionable love of nature!
All things considered, the problems in our gardens are manageable, and with a few adjustments, I believe things are fairly well under control.
That’s all for now from Mount Hymettus!
Sophia Stathatou | Curator of the Botanical Garden
