Dead Wood: What I learnt from John’s little and Martin Crawford’s Gardens
Just a short walk from Barking Station, we step into John Little’s Garden. First, we are met by a green roof workshop space. A brownfield site set against the slightly brutal backdrop of a disused power station looming over. Right at the entrance, everyone's attention is drawn upward to four dead upright birch trunks, bound together within a cylinder frame of metal and rock. At first glance, they appear to be purely sculptural and environmental art. But John explains these are ecological installations.
They provide vital habitats for a range of invertebrates on his site. At the base where rainwater collects, the wood softens, its damp and the wood rots, hosting moisture-loving creatures. At the top, the sun-dried bark peels back, providing a completely different habitat: warm, dry, perfect for the likes of solitary bees, beetles, and species that live in dry climate. In a single post, three habitats are formed vertically.
A short drive later we arrive at John’s Hilldrop Meadow. As we tour the site, several trees show strips of bark removed. John uses this as a method to slowly kill the trees while leaving them standing. He wants lot more deadwood on site so he can home thousands more invertebrates. One weeping willow, which he’s been working on for over a year, stands in a state of half-death. Some of the dead trunks have intricate dotted patterns. John has drilled into them to create little nests. They look stunning! John’s meadow is all created to up the range of small creatures on site.
A slightly more frantic morning anticipated my visit to Martin Crawford’s Forest Garden.
I ran around Paddington station a few times but I managed to catch the train (with five minutes to spare!).
Off to Totnes (Devon).
Martin works with dead wood but in a very different way. The paths covered in moist wood chips created a fungal superhighway, while bark chips, layered as mulch, protect tree roots and build up soil. Around the back of one of his sheds, there’s a stack of oak logs: these are being used to grow shiitake mushrooms. Martin drills holes into the logs and inoculates them with mushroom spores. Hardwood is ideal (like oak) and, after about 25 harvests, the used logs are moved to another pile. This older pile is rotting with even more fungi, breaking the wood down further and feeding nutrients straight back into the fungal superhighway. To stimulate mushroom growth, the logs are occasionally soaked in water and then struck, mimicking the shock of a fallen tree during a storm.
This sudden impact wakes up the fungi, encouraging them to spread.
Prior to these trips, I definitely had overlooked, if at all noticed, the importance of dead wood as a material.
Both gardens, although with different purposes - one designed to be a biodiverse heaven for small creatures and the other a rich forest of vegetation and food- very deeply rely on dead wood as a material to support and protect life.
Global Generation’s garden trainee Betsey Maeve explores how two gardens use dead wood in different ways to sustain life.