From a distance, the pavement seemed to be crawling with enormous caterpillars, but these are unripe male catkins at my feet, torn down by stormy weather from a Lombardy poplar’s twigs 40ft above my head. On a still day, I’d need to botanise with binoculars to appreciate their beauty; now, high winds have presented me with a gift of the most colourful catkins in our tree flora. They are as long and broad as my fingers, densely packed spirals of purple stamens: unexploded pollen bombs.
So much pollen. Counting stamens and estimating their contents, there must be at least 100,000 pollen grains per catkin, and there are still plenty left on the tree. On a high pollen count day, enough to make a hay fever sufferer’s eyes water.
