Ireland's Greenest Places: From Dún Laoghaire's active travel to Kiltimagh's biodiversity park - some of the entries so far

The search for genuine
sustainability
is challenging when there is so much rampant greenwashing, especially in a
country
where
environmental
commitments too often fall short of what is required.
The competition to
find Ireland's greenest places
is an attempt to identify locations where true sustainability is being pursued successfully.
There are some reassuring aspects in entries to the competition so far: strong commitments to
farming
in regenerative ways; an easing of increasing environmental pressures on urban places; adoption of renewables at scale; sustained commitment found in volunteerism – a powerful mode of collective action; and indications that impact can be hyperlocal.
Such an impact can be evident within the confines of a single street. It is evidence of what writer Rebecca Solnit has called 'hope in the dark', in the face of accelerating climate disruption and unrelenting nature loss.
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People in every corner of Ireland are looking to their immediate locality and taking grassroots action. While despair can lead to inaction, it's a luxury we cannot afford. No human can justifiably do nothing in the face of accelerating global warming, species wipeout and pollution (most obvious in poor water quality).
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A flavour of entries outlined in this piece may prompt other communities (in the broadest sense) to consider entering. By any measure the scale of local environmental betterment with the help of many hands is impressive. It ranges across groups engaging in bog restoration – enabling vast tracts of land to become carbon stores, slowing water to mitigate flooding and enhancing biodiversity – to towns transforming cityscapes into more liveable locations. So this is a call-out to them; an opportunity to get recognition for their endeavours.
There is also the option of individuals nominating their home place, where they work or where they visit. Highlighting projects here is not indication of likely winners, who will emerge from a separate judging process.
The categories are Ireland's greenest suburb; greenest village, greenest town and Ireland's greenest community – from which an overall winner will be selected.
The ability of an area as small as a suburb to pursue transformative actions is typified in the work of
Connecting Cabra
, which is involved in a multiplicity of activities, including staging biodiversity festivals and helping to convert gardens and open spaces into mini-nature reserves. This extends into adopting renewable energy, helping people pursue retrofitting in some of the poorest areas of Dublin and facilitating authentic 'circular living'.
At the Starling Pond off Faussagh Avenue, Cabra are Connecting Cabra's Stephen Shanahan (right) showing a froglet to St Finbarr's BNS students Caden Ledwidge and Carter Ledwidge with Louisa Moss, Dublin Northwest Partnership, and Michelle Nolan of Connecting Cabra. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill
'I could list dozens more activities that
Connecting Cabra
and other groups run ... but that would miss the main point; that Cabra is addressing climate action and sustainability together as a community in a way that involves and actively empowers everybody and is focused on climate justice,' says Connecting Cabra chair Brian Gormley.
With two of the top 10 electoral districts most affected by climate change being in its locality, Connecting Cabra is determined nobody should be left behind, Gormley, a brother of former Green Party leader John Gormley, adds. Through Cabra Warmer Homes Project, group members go door-to-door to help residents to apply for retrofitting grants.
Residents of
Seafield Road in Booterstown
, Co Dublin, illustrate how a single action can be impactful – in their case the planting of 60,000 flowering bulbs (seven different varieties) and 60 trees, along a 300m stretch of a residential street. The initiative adds to the visual appeal of a neighbourhood but also plays a crucial role in supporting local biodiversity.
Flowering bulbs bloom in succession, providing a continuous source of nectar and pollen throughout the growing season, giving pollinators and other beneficial insects a reliable food source.
Adding to ecological benefits is an innovative rain garden, designed to efficiently harvest stormwater. This not only mitigates flooding but also promotes 'groundwater recharge' ensuring a greener landscape.
Dublin Landscaping was entrusted with the project, which showcases how, with community engagement, a residential street can become an environmentally friendly haven, benefiting both people and the wider ecosystem.
The coastal village of
Castlegregory
, Co Kerry, illustrates the benefits of building on a TidyTowns platform of consistently ensuring that thriving green areas are well used by local people and visitors, and with minimal littering. In tandem with this, pollinator-friendly planting, use of native trees and a 'no spray policy' promoting sustainable, chemical-free practices, allow biodiversity to thrive.
'Castlegregory is a small village with a big environmental commitment, where community, climate action and biodiversity go hand in hand,' says Bettina Pickering, who nominated the village.
The breadth of activities keeps volunteers 'connected and involved', she adds. 'Our green efforts go beyond TidyTowns. The community council hosts annual circular economy events ... A tree planting group runs meitheals for native planting in private gardens and the nature park behind the secondary school also uses this space for biodiversity and geopark learning.'
Emigrant Park: The pond has been planted with native aquatic species, such as water lilies, and the surrounding marsh area has been seeded with wildflowers like ragged robin and kidney vetch, alongside native oak and larch. Photograph: Michael McLaughlin
Emigrant Park: Kiltimagh's community-driven biodiversity and amenity park. Photograph: Michael McLaughlin
Kiltimagh
in Co Mayo has a green heart; a 6.5-acre biodiversity park at its centre, which opened last year. It is called Emigrant Park, in tribute to Bill Durkan, a native of the area who emigrated to Britain and donated €100,000 for its creation.
Gary Smyth of Kiltimagh Amenity Park, a voluntary group that developed the park, says some initial reaction was negative; people said paths were not maintained, some even said 'it's too wild'.
But when members explained thatno pesticides or herbicides were used in the best interests of biodiversity, attitudes quickly changed. 'Now they say, 'we love it' ... It's a place to go for a coffee to de-stress.'
The park has features such as a nesting wall for sand martins, designed to be educational on the importance of nature. 'In many ways, it's replicating a bog road,' says Smyth.
He describes the village as an island surrounded by rivers. This includes the Pollagh, 'a bluedot river' indicating that it is one of the highest-quality rivers in the country. 'Our community are deeply invested in protecting and enhancing our natural heritage,' says Smyth.
Dún Laoghaire blends smart urban planning, environmental care and inclusive values, making it a model suburb for green and resilient living in Ireland
—
Rob McCullagh
Dún Laoghaire
, Co Dublin, is tilting private car usage towards public transport and active travel – walking and cycling. This has been facilitated by residents backing a 'living streets' project, says Claire Macken.
'It will be implemented through 2025-2026. It involves sustainable mobility and public realm improvements. It aims to make our local streets safer and greener, our communities more connected and to keep our economy vibrant,' she explains.
It is complemented by Dún Laoghaire Harbour Master initiatives, that 'reimagine urban spaces to prioritise pedestrians and cyclists and access to the marina, reduce car dominance, and enhance biodiversity with more trees, seating and shared public spaces'.
'Dún Laoghaire blends smart urban planning, environmental care and inclusive values, making it a model suburb for green and resilient living in Ireland,' says Rob McCullagh, who nominated it in the suburb category.
Rathcroghan Mound, Co Roscommon, where the Farming Rathcrogan project has 60 participating farming families, with others waiting to join. Photograph: Joe Fenwick/NUI Galway
The
Farming Rathcroghan
project in Co Roscommon is addressing the critical challenges of rural depopulation, sustainable land use and climate change. That alone is challenging in modern Ireland, but the project is operating in an important archaeological landscape.
'The farmland comprising the ancient 'royal' landscape of Rathcroghan is a little greener than most, due to the initiative of the local landowners, farmers and the surrounding community,' says Joe Fenwick.
It was the prehistoric capital of Connacht. Rathcroghan Mound was where the kings and queens of the province were inaugurated in a ritual 'mating' with the local Earth goddess.
Established in 2018, the project is supported by the EU Just Transition Fund, and has 60 participating farming families, with others waiting to join. Its 'success can be measured in the positive impact, ambition and cohesion that it has brought to the wider community. It is based on a simple model of collaborative, community-led governance', says Fenwick.
It promotes solutions and innovations devised by local people with a view to sustaining fulfilling farming livelihoods, while promoting the stewardship, conservation and protection of the archaeological, ecological and cultural heritage of the area. It also addresses wider environmental concerns; maintaining groundwater quality, carbon sequestration and other actions in support of achieving climate neutrality.
Those involved have demonstrated the benefits of embracing farming traditions that are as old as the locality's archaeological monuments, Fenwick believes, but also apply modern, imaginative, green innovations.
The Millbrook initiative shows how the GAA community can contribute to lowering carbon emissions, teaching people about biodiversity and the benefits of green spaces
—
Ealma Purcell
The greening of Millbrook, surrounding
Oldcastle Gaelic Football Club
's pitches in Co Meath, is a perfect example of starting small and reaping benefits over time.
'[It] shows how the GAA community can contribute to lowering carbon emissions, teaching people about biodiversity and the benefits of green spaces,' says Ealma Purcell. Pitches are surrounded by a walking track beside the river Inny. Extensive recent planting is delivering rich biodiversity.
'Signs carry information for people, and local schools visit for nature walks. We start with a bed of nepeta, adored by pollinators, a hive of buzzing activity. The riverbank is fenced off for safety, allowing it to become a wildlife haven, with otters and a resident heron,' says Purcell.
'We never cut the grass here, making it a totally safe environment for any creature that calls it home, and you can often hear the squeaks of little mammals. We let nettles and all sorts of other native plants [grow], providing food and nesting places for insects and butterflies. We have bird boxes and recently added in 12 fruit trees, the start of our own community orchard.'
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Restoring the Wicklow hills: 'It's like the Sahara at times up there with peat moving around like sand dunes in the desert'
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Jacksmill: An innovative regeneration project by farmer Huw O'Toole, who converted his farm into allotments and created a remote hub for hybrid working in a renovated sawmill. Photograph: Alan Betson
Jacksmill: A remote hub for hybrid working in the renovated sawmill. Photograph: Alan Betson
Jacksmill
is a small farm diversification project in north Wicklow owned by Huw O'Toole and his family. Located between Wicklow town and Bray, it is made up of a large forest garden and 'Hub13', a rural remote working hub repurposed from a disused sawmill into studios with co-working and office spaces.
The garden is 2.8 hectares (seven acres) of regenerated pastoral farmland transformed from heavily sheep-grazed ryegrass. Within the project are various small and family-sized allotments maintained through no pesticide use and deploying 'no dig' organic methods.
Taking over the family farm in 2014, 'Huw saw the pronounced decline in insects he remembered seeing in the meadow when he was child. He was asked to sell sites for one-off housing but made a decision instead to enhance the environment and restore lost biodiversity,' says Caroline Costigan, who works there part-time.
The allotments provide families with space and awareness to care for nature and the opportunity to make sustainable choices to grow their own food, limit food waste and avoid chemicals and excessive plastic packaging.
Hub13 provides a rural biodiversity-focused workplace to people including creative artists and those who were feeling isolated working at home or were previously commuters on the N11, she adds. It has become, 'a thriving blueprint of the resilience of small farms and of how they can be diversified to lead climate and biodiversity action'.
The Dingle peninsula: 'It's about local people having a real say in shaping their community's future'
The
Dingle Peninsula-Corca Dhuibhne
is a standout example of how sustainability can be multilayered and adopted across a large area embracing every aspect of the local economy.
It is about joining forces to find solutions that work, says Gráinne Kelleher. 'Diverse local groups work diligently to help the peninsula move towards being more resilient, having cleaner energy, protecting our natural and beautiful landscape while keeping the local economy strong to ensure a vibrant, liveable place for future generations ... it's about local people having a real say in shaping their community's future.'
Footprint for good
The concept of a 'carbon footprint' has come to be understood as an indicator of our ecological impact on Earth, but it ignoble origins.
The idea gained popularity in 2003 when fossil-fuel company BP launched an advertising campaign asking people on the street what their carbon footprint was. It emerged that marketing agency Ogilvy & Mather's brief was to promote the slant that climate change is not the fault of an oil giant, but of individuals. The company unveiled its '
carbon footprint calculator
' so people could assess how their normal daily life – going to work, buying food and travelling – is largely responsible for heating the globe. Initially, it was a guilt trigger.
In spite of the sinister motivation of Big Oil, individuals can address their carbon footprint meaningfully; their actions add up to significant impact. However, it is only by collective action – in decarbonising, restoring nature and using water sustainably – that the necessary multiplier effect is deployed. Ireland's Greenest Places shows this type of combined effort is taking root in rural and urban heartlands across the island.
The Irish Times Ireland's Greenest Places competition is in association with Electric Ireland

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Poppies symbolise the fleeting, bittersweet beauty of summer gardens

If ever there was a flower that symbolises the fleeting, bittersweet beauty of the garden in summer, then it's surely the poppy, with its gossamer-thin petals and delicate, slender stems. But do you know your short-lived, sun-loving annual poppy species, including many that are suitable for poorer, free-draining soils, from longer-lived biennial, perennial and shrubby kinds, including some that will only flourish in cool, damp, humus-rich, woodland conditions? If you're lucky, you may have come across the very rare, yellow-horned poppy, Glaucium flavum (a particular favourite of the late British artist and gardener Derek Jarman), a wild biennial or short-lived perennial species sometimes found growing in shingly beaches along sheltered Irish coastlines. Much more common is the annual wild field poppy or corn poppy, Papaver rhoeas, whose vermilion blooms light up road verges and waste ground at this time of year. 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The Californian poppy, Eschscholzia californica, loves a warm, sunny spot By comparison, growing the outlandishly beautiful but famously capricious Icelandic poppy is a challenge for even seasoned gardeners. Best known as Papaver nudicaule, but recently renamed as Oreomecon nudicaulis, this late spring/early summer-flowering species loathes intense heat, preferring cool, bright conditions. Technically a perennial, it's best treated as a biennial raised from seed sowed in late spring and then planted out in autumn to flower the following year. Getting its tiny seeds to successfully germinate and then preventing them from damping-off can be fiendishly difficult, a challenge made more aggravating by the fact that seed of the most desirable strain – the Colibri poppy, originally bred for the cut-flower trade – is also mind-wateringly expensive. 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Irish Times

4 hours ago

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Venice Architecture Biennale 2025: Ireland presents an elegantly complex take on a richly simple idea

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Picoplanktonics at the Canadian pavilion at Venice Architecture Biennale 2025 Hungary is fun, as Márton Pintér, its curator, takes a look at all the other things trained architects end up doing instead of architecture, while also sharing narratives of the steady attrition through compromise that ultimately demolishes their utopian dreams. The main pavilion in the Giardini is closed for renovation, so the Arsenale houses the bulk of this year's curated exhibition, and bulky it is. From an arch of elephant-dung bricks to bioengineered trees, and from jaunty robots to exhaling rocks, the halls of the vast venue are abuzz, and overstuffed. It is as if Carlo Ratti, the biennale's curator, of Massachusetts Institute of Technology, just couldn't say no. Or perhaps he was high on saying yes. In either case, it just doesn't work, and the overall effect is irritating rather than enlightening. Visitors interact with the Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective exhibit. Photograph: Andrea Avezzù Installation view of the Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective exhibit. Photograph: Andrea Avezzù, courtesy La Biennale di Venezia 'To face a burning world, architecture must harness all the intelligence around us,' Ratti, who is an engineer as well as an architect, says. Instead we are surrounded by an impossible cacophony. Entitled 'Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective' it features odes to AI and robots everywhere. One mimics the actions of visitors banging a drum. Another carves at wood alongside a pair of artists from Bhutan in national dress. AI also helpfully summarises the frequently verbose wall texts alongside each installation; it is amusing to see where even AI chokes on the jargon. Some of the most interesting and most moving pavilions, including Ireland's, are in the adjacent spaces at the Arsenale. A team from Peru explores the man-made reed islands on Lake Titicaca, where human ingenuity thrives only because it has evolved in harmony with nature. The Lebanese pavilion, The Land Remembers, is quietly devastating, as Edouard Souhaid, Shereen Doummar, Elias Tamer and Lynn Chamoun of Collective for Architecture Lebanon look at the impacts of ecocide, following the bombing of their country with white phosphorus by Israeli forces. They also explore the resilience of plants, and their capacity for healing and regrowth. Then there are the flashy projects that underline so much that is wrong with the world of architecture and design. A space-age gateway to a row of Porsche-designed water bikes by the star architect Norman Foster is all aesthetics over old ideas; similarly, the New York practice Diller Scofidio + Renfro bizarrely won a Golden Lion for its Canal Cafe. The 'cafe' is part water-purification plant, part espresso bar at a quieter end of the Arsenale; the jury's citation praised it for its 'demonstration of how the city of Venice can be a laboratory to speculate how to live on the water, while offering a contribution to the public space of Venice'. Again, the only new thing it seems to present is the aestheticisation of something that has been going on in many parts of the world for years. Admittedly, there is a slightly twisted delight in the sight of well-heeled biennale visitors lining up for the delicious frisson of drinking formerly filthy water. Gateway to Venice's Waterways by Norman Foster with Porsche. Photograph: Marco Zorzanello Nearby, one of the most moving elements of the Italian pavilion, which explores the country's relationship to the sea, is an old film of children happily and (presumably) safely swimming in Venice's canals. After all this, Ireland's pavilion, in its now regular space towards the quieter reaches of the Arsenale, comes as a welcome respite. It has been created by a team led by the Cork-based firm Cotter & Naessens , whose other projects include Dún Laoghaire's Lexicon Library, Limerick's Grainstore and some exceptionally elegant private housing that makes remarkable use of light. At Venice a timber structure encloses a circular space with a wraparound internal bench. The diameter of the space makes you want to stay, sit and talk. Inside Assembly, at the Venice Bienalle. Photograph: Cotter & Naessens Architects Assembly celebrates Ireland's citizens' assemblies, whichhave come together to debate issues from marriage equality to biodiversity loss. 'Could citizens' assemblies be realised at different scales?' the architects ask, imagining villages, cities and towns with their own social chambers, where people can meet to discuss, disagree and maybe even (whisper it) come up with something new, without resorting to cancellation, rage and online abuse? The idea is richly simple, although it is also elegantly complex in its execution. Leaning on the idea of architecture as an enabler rather than souped-up saviour, Louise Cotter points out how making civic architecture is (or, rather, should be) about making spaces to gather. 'This,' she says, 'brings it down to the level of community.' 'The need to assemble is fundamental,' Luke Naessens, who curated the pavilion with Cotter, says. 'But the right to assemble is under pressure.' The pavilion itself was put together from beech wood by Alan Meredith, two trees having fortuitously fallen in a storm at precisely the right time. It is visually completed with a carpet designed by Liam Naessens and created by Ceadogán Rugmakers . Adding a further layer, the whole thing is soundtracked by the composer David Stalling, with ambient noises, including birdsong and the sounds of the making of the pavilion itself at the exterior, and spoken word, including a poem by Michelle Delea, and voices from those who participated in citizens' assemblies inside. 'To start with, people were diffident about coming in because of the carpet,' Cotter says, 'but as it got dirty they lost their inhibitions.' It's a seemingly throwaway remark that hits at a deeper truth about the way environment can both invite and inhibit. Through their researches, the team explored places where people gather and communicate, from church choirs to cattle marts. 'Originally we had a kind of passageway with seats on either side, but that was a more hierarchical and confrontational space,' Cotter says. 'So it had to be round.' Size matters, too, as their researches demonstrated a sweet spot of distance that allows for connection and intimacy without intimidation. Stalling's composition is designed as what he describes as 'an intimate form of musical dialogue'. Together they have got it entirely right, as experience proves that this is a space in which it is lovely to linger and that, in so doing, conversations with strangers ensue. 'Thinking about assembly as a process really inflected our design,' Naessens says. 'While we were working on independent parts we would come together, and something someone else was doing might shift the direction. There's a reflexive element to it.' Architecture as Trees, Trees as Architecture at the Venice Biennale. Photograph: Marco Zorzanello The Lebanese pavilion at the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025 Their explorations continually underlined the idea of how much the human element matters. As Cotter remarks, 'buildings like cathedrals or train stations come alive when filled with people, [but] the pandemic completely inverted our sense of what a place of assembly is'. Thinking about this, and about how smartphones have added to the changes in how we meet and interact, a project such as Assembly becomes even more interesting for the quiet ideas it ignites. Many brilliant solutions to our social woes have been previously proposed in Irish pavilions past, such as the excellent Suburban to SuperRural, curated by FKL Architects in 2006; and Free Market , put together by Jeffrey Bolhuis, Jo Anne Butler, Miriam Delaney, Tara Kennedy, Laurence Lord and Orla Murphy in 2018. Each presented cogent and practical ideas, with some inspiring leaps of the imagination to spice things up. In the former, dull suburbs were re-created as biodiverse places in which people, and nature, could thrive; in the latter, the dying market towns of Ireland gained a new lease of life as remarkable places to live and work. Yet what has changed? The national pavilions at successive Venice architecture biennales are, in the main, supported by their respective governments – in Ireland by funding from Culture Ireland and the Arts Council . But do governments take notice? Then time passes and things stay the same or, as is the case with the environment, declines. What if the biennale could do something good? Imagine if we did adopt the social-housing covenants of Austria or build with carbon-dioxide-sucking bricks. 'The biennale does matter,' Naessens says. 'The process of working alongside people from Oman, Morocco – it's valuable. It's random which pavilions are next to each other in the Arsenale, but the conversations that come through are really generative, especially when we're looking at things like climate change, which are global.' As I leave the Arsenale the crowds are thinning out. A man is tipping out a melancholy version of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star on a steel drum, as opposite him the mimic robot has given up, and hangs forlornly in space. The queue to ask questions of an AI robot with a surreally smoothed-out face has vanished but, given my chance, I can't think of anything to say. 'Does any of this matter?' I try. 'Ahh, that is a big question,' replies the robot, and leaves it at that. The 19th Venice International Architecture Exhibition runs until November 23rd. Assembly will tour Ireland, including to Cork Midsummer Festival, in 2026

Irish Times

5 hours ago

• Irish Times

How yellow rattle can inject new life into Ireland's green spaces

'Gliográn' means 'little rattler' – a clattery, tinkling thing – and it describes well the sound rippling across a field full of yellow rattle in late summer, around August, carried best on a dry day with a light breeze. The soft rattling noise comes from the dried seeds inside their papery bladder-like pods, which shake like tiny maracas. Years ago, a tinkling field told farmers it was time to make hay; they'd listen for the sound as their cue to take out the scythe and start cutting. Finding a large field full of yellow rattle isn't easy these days – it's often considered a weed , especially by farmers on high-yield grassland systems. But just last week I stood in a gently sloping Co Meath field filled with this yellow flower, with clover growing beneath, at the new 552-acre Brú na Bóinne National Park in Dowth, in the Boyne Valley. The park, which the State bought for €11 million in 2023, isn't yet open to the public (it will take a few more years). But the process of turning the high-nutrient grasslands into spaces for nature has already begun, led by the new park manager, Maurice Eakin. Dr Eakin has one goal: to bring life back to these lands. To begin the process, he sowed yellow rattle seeds in parts of the park last November. Often called 'the meadow maker' or 'nature's lawnmower', the yellow rattle is a handsome, striking plant with slender, toothed green leaves and sunlit yellow flowers shaped like snapdragon-style tubular bells clustered at the top of its stem. Above ground, the plant is all charm – a beautiful burst of yellow flowers swaying in the fields, as if butter wouldn't melt. Underground, though, it's quite the vampire and thief. As a seedling, yellow rattle sends out roots that latch on to those of neighbouring plants, especially grasses, and siphon off their water, minerals and nutrients. This parasitic habit weakens the grasses and slows their growth, and it's particularly effective against dominant grass species such as ryegrass. (This is why many farmers understandably dislike it since ryegrass is rich in energy and protein and is fed to livestock.) READ MORE By winning a war against dominant grasses, yellow rattle opens space for less competitive wildflowers to grow, such as oxeye daisy, buttercup, sweet vernal grass and common knapweed. The result is a diverse meadow with flowers that bloom at different times through the spring and summer, offering a steady supply of nectar and pollen for insects and somewhere to shelter and breed. As the wild plant conservation charity Plantlife says, yellow rattle is the 'single most important plant you need when creating a wildflower meadow'. Although it was cold and damp when I stood in the field with Dr Eakin, the hoverflies and bumblebees were out in numbers, landing on the yellow flowers in search of sweet nectar. As they moved from plant to plant, the bees brushed against the flowers' male parts and picked up dustings of fine, powdery pollen, each grain carrying the plant's sperm cells. When the bees visited the next flower, some of that pollen rubbed off on to the female part of the plant, fertilising it and allowing it to produce seeds. Just as the yellow rattle gets up to mischief beneath the soil, some bee species get up to tricks while feeding on its nectar. This sugar-rich liquid is buried deep inside the yellow flower, favouring long-tongued bees such as the garden bee, whose tongue can reach 20mm long. Shorter-tongued bees that arrive on the flower can't reach it, but that doesn't put them off. Instead of entering through the floral opening, they land on the side of the flower where the nectar collects, bite a small hole, and drink their fill. These 'nectar robbers' bypass the flower's reproductive parts, so while they get the sweet stuff, the plant gains nothing in return apart from a dose of its own medicine from one thief to another. [ Butterflies in free fall: 'It's really alarming because it shows that something significant is happening in the wider countryside' Opens in new window ] Dr Eakin says he is delighted with how the yellow rattle transforms the field from ryegrass-dominated grassland into a richer, more diverse meadow. His aim over the next few years is to restore life to this part of Meath, and his use of yellow rattle as a key tool in this process could inspire and guide urban park managers across Ireland. Injecting life into public green spaces – transitioning from mown grass to wildflower meadows – can help reverse insect decline and create healthier, more vibrant spaces for local communities. The impact of urban meadows can be significant. A study published last year by scientists at Warsaw University found that replacing regularly mowed lawns with wildflower meadows in cities leads to a high concentration of pollinating insects, making these urban meadows as valuable as natural meadows in rural areas. The outlook for pollinators in Ireland is bleak. Our butterflies are in free fall. Recent data from the National Biodiversity Data Centre reveals staggering, catastrophic declines in their populations between 2008 and 2021: the meadow brown down 86 per cent, the ringlet down 88 per cent, the green-veined white down 87.2 per cent. Like bumblebees, butterflies are homeless and starving, with little hope of recovery unless we urgently restore wildflowers to our landscape. [ Irish wildflowers: Growing your own mini-meadow isn't always easy but the results are magical Opens in new window ] In this battle, an gliográn – the yellow rattle – could be one of our most loyal and effective allies.