October: Seed Time and Talking Toads 

Published November 2025

Visit Knepp’s rewilded Walled Garden

The autumn tapestry slowly stitches itself from greens to auburn, the golden yellows of the oaks fade to russet and tangerine. Virginia creepers explode into velvet red and in the garden the great dome of the American smoke bush (Cotinus obovatus ‘Flame’) is a mass of fiery embers. Seedheads begin to disperse their long-nurtured progeny to the wind.  

The most delightful display are those of butterfly milkweed (Asclepius tuberosa).  The beige felty pods split open to reveal a double row of neat brown seeds that unzip, each attached to a silken parasol of fine filaments that are lifted and transported by the slightest breeze, like delicate floating jellyfish. Unlike most seed pods that bear some resemblance to the flower shape, this plant is intriguingly contrary. The flattened bright orange flower head is, in fact, a cluster of small individual flowers that seem unlikely to produce such finger-sized seedpods. In consequence of the flower size the nectaries are accessible to the mouthparts of many different insects – butterflies, moths and other pollinators like bees and flies. Native to eastern and south-western North America, it grows well in sand or gravel and has really become established in the concrete and sand mix in the Rewilded Garden. It takes three years to produce flowers, but it‘s worth the wait – the vibrant orange is an eyecatcher in summer

We spent a wonderful morning seed collecting with some of the Knepp volunteers, most of early October being dry enough to ensure seeds have matured and dried sufficiently to be ‘viable’. Seeds collected before they’ve turned from green to brown generally won’t germinate (there are a few exceptions, where the plants will grow from unripe seeds), and a good test is to hold the seed in your fingers and check they’re hard and that there’s some resistance to pressure. This can be tricky when dealing with tiny seeds like those of poppy or tobacco plants – they’re about the size of a pinhead.  If you’re collecting all through your garden you can get a feel for what’s ready. It can also be slightly confusing to distinguish between seed capsule or husk and the seed itself but leaving seedheads to dry on paper can often reveal their secrets as the covering dries.  

We’re mindful of mimicking natural processes in the garden so we’ll only collect a certain amount then brush or shake the seedheads to disperse the seeds, leaving the stems to stand through the winter as dry habitat for insects. Having as diverse an array of different structures as possible maximises the chances of insects completing all the stages of their lifecycle. 

We also managed to take cuttings from our Mediterranean plants and get them into the sand beds we use for propagating these species that thrive in dry, free-draining soils. The beds are simple to construct – four scaffolding planks fixed together to form a rectangle filled with sharp sand – and they yield amazing results. We lifted the plants grown from finger-length cuttings of lavender, rosemary, sage or rock rose pushed into the sand this time last year – some of them having grown up to 30cm- and planted them straight from the beds into the concrete and sand mix of the Rewilded Garden. We use them to bulk up the same plants or fill gaps where others are struggling, or to diversify areas where one species is becoming dominant.  

 The trick with cuttings is to choose a solid new stem that has some rigidity and no flower (flowering takes a lot of energy; stems without them have focused resources on producing strong growth). Cutting just below a ‘node’ – the line on a stem, usually where leaves grow from – stimulates the plant hormones that reside there to produce roots once they’re plunged into darkness in the soil. Nature’s incredible resilience and flexibility means we’re able to practice sustainable ways to produce plants with no transport or carbon costs and no plastic pots. They’re also more likely to be resilient since they’ve been grown in the same area and climate as the garden where they’ll be planted. 

Working on the meadow attached to the Apple Store where we receive visitors has given rise to some thoughts about how we’re mimicking natural processes here. The disturbance and seed distribution that occurs in a meadow in the wider landscape where deer and cattle and, in Knepp’s case, free-roaming ponies and pigs move through, is absent here. This paddock is another walled area, part of the original garden, inaccessible to the animals, with some gorgeous, gnarled veteran apple trees along the perimeter, the fruit of which is used to make our Wilding Kitchen and Shop apple juice. Without animals we are, in effect, acting as the agents of disturbance, introducing a wider range of plants into the heavy grass sward. We’d grown some meadow species from seed sown in the spring – field scabious, harebell and dame’s violet (Succisa pratensis, Campanula rotundifolia, Hesperis matronalis). They’re all very good plants for pollinators – the native harebell, in particular, serves the specialist campanula and scissor bees. Dame’s violet was introduced into the UK from Europe in the fourteenth century and, as the name suggests, has strong-scented flowers. Moths love them, and a good moth population encourages bats, another creature we want to see more of. We’re also increasing the broad-leaf diversity of the meadow by introducing some bigger plants which will hopefully go on to self-seed the space. 

While moving the stacks we discovered a wealth of creatures. We gently relocated the many species of spiders, some centipedes, devil’s coach-horse beetles, ladybird and glowworm larvae, common newts – and several adorable juvenile toads. 

 In folklore toads are often cited as the familiars or ‘fetchers’ of witches, and have historically been associated with darkness, poison and the unknown, even in the Bible and by Shakespeare. No doubt spooky representations of toads will be included in the upcoming Halloween festivities. But far from being unwelcome in our gardens, they’re an essential part of a functioning ecosystem. 

Some areas have become dominated by nettles, sow thistle and brambles. We cut and collected the nettle tops – they’re very good for heating up the compost heap – and then dug out the roots, along with the thistles and bramble runners. If there’d been pigs in here, they’d have done the job for us. There’s nothing they like more than the deep roots of docks, nettles and sow thistle (hence its name). When we cut the meadow back in August, we’d left some hay piles as refuges for insects and small mammals. We now carefully moved the stacks to cover the dug-over areas to deprive them of light and suppress regrowth.  This left clear patches of warmed soil where we could put in the new plants. 

The common toad (Bufo bufo) is most active at night, predating slugs and snails, ants, beetles and spiders. It’s the perfect gardener’s friend. They have glands in their skin that produce highly toxic secretions that are even present in the tadpoles, which deter predators from eating them. No doubt both these elements contribute to their reputation as ‘ugly and venomous’ (Shakespeare). But you’d have to lick a toad, or your fingers after picking one up, to suffer adverse effects – so don’t kiss one (the US National Park Service has launched a campaign to warn visitors of the dangers of licking the Sonoran desert toad that secretes a psychoactive toxin). Cats and dogs can be affected, though, if they pick one up in their mouths. 

Toads are more tolerant of dry conditions than frogs – they don’t even need ponds, apart from spawning – and will often remain in one garden all summer if there’s a plentiful supply of food and sufficient long grass or piles of dead material for cover. For that reason, it’s important always to check for frogs and toads before mowing, particularly in the summer when tadpoles become juveniles and leave their spawning ponds. Toads tend to lay their spawn in deeper ponds than frogs, returning to the same place every year in early spring for a few short weeks and spending the rest of the year away from water. Right now, they’re preparing for winter and will hibernate somewhere that’s frost free and protected from cats, so making sure there are habitats like log or wood piles, or a compost heap can help keep or encourage them into a garden – moving toads from another pond can spread disease – it’s better to make suitable habitats and wait for them to arrive. 

Sadly, a recent survey led by Froglife has confirmed that toad populations in the UK have almost halved in the last 40 years – declining by more than 40%. Froglife suggests a combination of reasons. Every year in the UK, roads kill an estimated 20 tonnes of toads during their migration. Increased urbanisation has reduced the green corridors that would allow them safe passage. Ponds everywhere have been lost, or their water has been polluted. And there has been a dramatic decline in the availability of their insect prey. Climate change, too, can affect egg production, with milder winters being detrimental to their natural period of hibernation. 

While most of this news is depressing, it’s a hopeful sign that the study also shows a reduction in the rate of toad declines over recent years due to the actions of volunteers. As part of Froglife’s Toads on Roads Project, ‘Toad Patrollers’ help toads safely cross these death traps during their migration season from around January to March. What better way, as we head into winter, to think of brightening up the coldest, darkest months with a spot of toad patrolling? And, of course, providing those damp nooks and crannies in a garden – dead wood, piles of leaves, compost and mud patches – where the gardener’s perfect friend can safely hibernate through November and December.

Find your nearest toad crossing 

Photos courtesy of Suzi Turner, Moy Fierheller and Dave Kilbey (the toad, via Froglife)

What we’re reading; 

Native Wildflowers of the UK 

Froglife 

Increasingly uncommon common toads: multidecadal, ongoing abundance decline of a widespread amphibian despite volunteer conservation action | Biodiversity and Conservation 

Amphibian and Reptile Conservation 

Don’t Lick This Toad, National Park Service Says 

Garden Tips – November 2025

1. Bulb planting – time to plant spring flowering bulbs like snowdrops, crocus, daffodils and tulips that can provide important nectar and pollen for early emerging insects. Wildlife like voles, mice and squirrels love these

underground food storage units as much as we do. To deter them, you can sprinkle a few chilli flakes when you plant – to a depth 2.5 times the height of the bulb – or plant in pots with some chicken wire just below the soil surface that the plants can grow up through.

2. Habitat creation – perennial plants that are starting to look a bit straggly can either be cut back or the leaves and stems tied up in wonderful sculptures. Winter habitat – somewhere warm and dry, protected from frost and predation is an important part of a functioning eco-system. The cuttings can be woven or tied into a ball, stacked into a tripod in layers, tucked in piles under a hedge or hung from a tree. Get creative!

3. Mulching – if you’re growing edibles –either perennial or annual –they’re hungry and can take a lot of nutrients from the soil over the season. Adding well-rotted manure, home-made compost and leaf mould adds the microbial life that help release nutrients so plants can use them for healthy growth. Careful to leave a gap round woody stems – they can suffer from rot or fungi if they’re covered.

4. Leaves – to leave or not to leave. We find the best approach is a mixed one. In heavily leafy areas gather up and put in bags or piles to make leaf mould. Leave some on the beds – worms need food and we need them. Add some to mixed habitat stacks or tripods or at the base of walls for insect and amphibian winter habitat.

5. Potting on seedlings – the autumn hardy annuals like cornflowers, poppies and marigolds that we sowed last month in little plugs can be potted on to 9cm pots. We can reduce the amount of watering they need over winter and they’ll become robust plants to put in the ground early in the spring. A diversity of flower shapes for a diversity of insects to feed from at a time when they need the energy to nest and lay eggs.