Green-flowered clover

These are two inflorescences from the same white clover Trifolium repens plant, growing in the cliffs near Hawthorn Dene on the Durham coast. 

On the left, the normal inflorescence.

The inflorescence on the right has been infected with a strange bacterium-like microorganism called a phytoplasma, which causes the flowers to revert to leaf-like structures - a phenomenon known as phyllody. The disease is transmitted between plants by sap-sucking insects.

In Clover

It’s a shame that computers can’t convey smells digitally, because when I stood in the middle of this large patch of white clover in the mid-day heat the smell was simply wonderful. Just like the aroma of a newly-opened jar of warm honey. The whole area – a large patch of waste ground that was reseeded with a clover/rye grass mix last spring – hummed with honeybees and bumblebees, moving from flower to flower. Surely one of the best ways to support our ailing bee population would be to sow clover wherever land of any kind is lying fallow? White clover Trifolium repens has a neat way to ensure it gets the maximum labour out of its bee workforce. As soon as the flowers have been pollinated they begin to flush pink, and then the bees ignore then, concentrating instead on newly-open, nectar-laden flowers. Meanwhile, after half a day the flower stalks of pollinated flowers bend downwards, out of the way of the visiting bees. You can see the difference between a newly-open flower head (left) and one that’s been open for about a day (right) in the top photograph.