Ancient Survivor Thrives Despite Harsh Frosts in North Pennine Valley

In the heart of the north Pennine valley, where temperatures have plummeted to a biting -7C, the landscape is painted in somber hues. Leafless trees stand like sentinels in a frozen tableau, while thistles, docks, and other wild plants succumb to the harsh frosts, their vigor replaced by a brittle, brown desolation. As the thaw sets in, the ground turns sticky and heavy, transforming every step into a muddy battle, reminding me of the relentless grip of winter.

My path leads me past an aged farmhouse, its gravel driveway composed of robust chunks of whinstone—grey, resilient, and counter to the elements. Here, amidst the moisture, an astonishing phenomenon emerges: the vibrant cyanobacteria known as Nostoc commune. This curious life form is not just an organic oddity; it's a testament to resilience in nature.

Nostoc species can be enigmatic, retreating into dormancy during dry spells, appearing as dark, crusty mats that seem lifeless. Yet, as moisture returns, they rehydrate and expand into gelatinous bump formations that resemble otherworldly gelatin creations. Dubbed by the curious as star jelly, witches' butter, and mare’s eggs, Nostoc’s nomenclature reflects centuries of human intrigue and myth.

The term "nostoc" was coined in the 16th century by the Swiss physician Paracelsus, linking its gooey, green appearance to nostrils, humorously dubbing it "excrement blown from the nostrils of some rheumatic planet." This poetic description captures the wonder and mystery of this ancient organism.

Upon closer inspection, Nostoc displays a jaw-dropping versatility. Patches vary wildly in appearance; some resemble slimy blobs straight out of a science fiction thriller, while others mimic the innocent look of seaweed washed ashore. Their surfaces can shine with a dark sheen akin to a frog’s back or swirl with honeyed tones reminiscent of a delectable toffee bun.

Strikingly, it is the everyday human activity—foot and vehicle traffic—that creates the compact conditions that enable Nostoc's thrive. Alongside them, I spot pearlwort and liverwort, hardy plants that flourish in areas plagued by poor drainage. Once attuned to its presence, Nostoc is nearly impossible to overlook; you can find it sprouting in unexpected places: roadsides, lawns, and even on sidewalks.

Fascinatingly, Nostoc is not limited to the Pennines; this ancient organism is found around the globe. Its ability to fix atmospheric nitrogen and carry out photosynthesis enables it to exist independently of other organisms. Adaptable and hardy, cyanobacteria can endure extreme temperatures, with some species even thriving near volcanic habitats or in the icy Arctic.

As winter's frosts have stripped the valley of much life, Nostoc stands as a remarkable survivor, completely unharmed by the chilling conditions. It’s a humbling reminder of nature's resilience, showing that sometimes the most enigmatic beings can endure where others falter. This ancient survivor invites us to reconsider our relationship with the natural world—respecting its tenacity and marveling at its ability to thrive against the odds.