starlings – derrickjknight

First Out Of The Traps

A heavy slate canopy kept the light dull and the rain away today.

Jackie continued her clearance work in the Pond Bed (so named because it has been laid out by our predecessors on the shallow base of a pond). She has cleared most of the invasive alliums and even enjoyed the pleasure of planting up a pot.

The Japanese maples are now freer features. “Where’s Jackie?” (7)

My task was weeding the Shady Path. Starting at the Rose Garden end I just about reached Florence sculpture, from where I could observe the

burgeoning of the rhododendron on the corner of the Palm Bed, and listen to the birdsong which had been absent yesterday.

It wasn’t exactly the song of birds that entertained Jackie – more the baby starlings clamouring for food, until their Dad, as soon as the Assistant Photographer raised her camera, sounded the alarm and all became quiet. With considerable patience, she managed a shot of the infant she thinks will be first out of the traps.

This evening we dined on Mr Chan’s excellent fare from Hordle Chinese Take Away, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

Communal Bath

Quite early this morning we drove to Mudeford to look at the sea. The sun briefly outlined the horizon; the waves were very choppy and

determined to bubble over the wall onto the promenade. I needed to be unaccustomedly quick on my feet to keep them dry, whereas

a reflecting fisherman just paddled patiently.

As I watched the water dripping from a walker’s uplifted foot I wondered whether his dog really wanted a walk as it hopefully hugged the bollards yet would probably pick up wetter paws when circumventing each vacant bench ahead.

Sailboarding was under way –

more so in the more sheltered harbour away from the open sea. Some of these gentlemen, nevertheless couldn’t keep out of the water for long.

One came a cropper behind a capsized sailboat against which the thud of the waves syncopated with the

tinkling of the rigging of the parked sailboats

and drowned the gentler lapping of the soft sea foam frothing over the coastal pebbles.

From her car Jackie focussed on a more distant fisherman who was himself beset by spray battering rocks.

Nearer at hand she was so engrossed with a clutch of iridescent-flecked starlings that she might have missed the one perched upon her wing mirror had it not begun to shout at her.

Gulls soon moved in, one pointing out the necessity to pay for parking, and another

attempting to join in the starlings’ communal bath.

Finally she snapped her fisherman packing up.

The evening we dined on “definitely the last serving” of Jackie’s still succulent beef and mushroom pie, boiled potatoes, carrots. cauliflower and runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank The Second Fleet Lime Stone Coast Shiraz 2019.

The Race Was On

On this further dully overcast and windy morning we virtually finished the front garden pruning.

I photographed a few hanging baskets in the rest of this area, involving bacopas, lobelias, diascia, begonias, petunias, pelargoniums, and gladiolus. These have all regenerated well after the recent heavy winds.

Here are the bags of woody clippings which we will need to take to the recycling centre. Unfortunately we now have to register our vehicle and make an appointment to dump this material.

On my way through the garden I photographed more views which are each identified in the gallery. The second-flush kniphofia in the last picture is proliferating.

The first apples Jackie picked polished up nicely.

This afternoon we visited Mudeford harbour where, now the area has been left to the locals, I was able to wander across the green and photograph a sailboarder whizzing among moored boats;

gulls, including a preener;

and a low-flying murmuration of starlings for whom the race was on for dropped morsels of food.

As is her wont, Jackie photographed the photographer against the backdrop of his subject.

This evening we dined on lamb chops in mint and rosemary gravy; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots and broccoli; and swede and carrot mash, with which Jackie drank Beck’s and I drank more of the Malbec.

Bullies Of The Feeders

This morning I was distracted from my reading by activity on the bird feeders.

Goldfinches, as usual, spilled more seed than they consumed;

they had to wait their turn on the sunflower seeds

as did dunnocks on the suet balls, where, until recently, with sparrows, they had ruled the roost.

Now the starlings, with their fluid speckled iridescence,

are the dominant bullies of the feeders.

On this chilly, dull, afternoon, Jackie worked at clearing the Oval Bed which contains this plant interred last year that has lost its label to the winds;

and placing pansies in the iron urn. This container was full of vine weevils which she had to extract before adding fresh compost and pansies. The additional flora she would normally have included at this time are unavailable because they are dying in closed garden centres on account of coronavirus regulations. Many of these outlets will not survive.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s rustic chicken and vegetable soup followed by her delicious

amber dried fruit lattice pie and custard.

Decidedly Reluctant To Test The Water

Blackbirds are now in the process of stripping our crab apple trees of fruit.

After a quick look around,

they tear off an apple then make their way back to their homes across the road.

We can just make out others, like this sparrow, about to leave the runway over there.

Raindrops kept the food moist between bouts of sunshine.

We spent some time making Christmas cards before and after lunch. By the time we drove to Everton Post Office to send them on their way the rain had ceased and the sky cleared somewhat.

Sunset beckoned as we approached Shirley Holms afterwards.

Pools developing on the soggy terrain.

A car drew up and parked in puddles.

The owner decanted two dogs. The animal with the thinner coat appeared decidedly reluctant to test the water.

Running streams were being gouged into the stony moorland,

and flowing over the lane.

Pastel cloudscapes resembled cotton billows.

Ponies would continue chomping grass well into the night.

Further along Shirley Holms Road unusually silent starlings gathered on an oak,

equally silently took to flight.

The still, crystal clear lake at Pilley produce mirror images,

while sunset’s pink and indigo fingers streaked the underlying pale blue skies.

Harry Potter in Oz

Yesterday morning, before I spent the whole afternoon writing the post on The Hawk Conservancy Trust, Jackie and I followed Becky, Ian, and Scooby to the Beachcomber Café at Barton on Sea.

The angelic, ageing Jack Russel – 17 next month – earned extra Bonio rations and heaps of admiration on the day of our visit to the trust, by controlling his bodily functions for nigh on 13 hours alone in the house because of our travel delays. We searched the house for evidence of leakage or dumping. There was none. I don’t think any of the rest of us could have remained so contained

We were also proud of the fact that he showed no desire to sit at table, which could not be said for a number of younger dogs.

As usual, speckled starlings perched in a row on the fence waiting for

a sight of likely pickings.

In the evening the four of us finished off the Indian Takeaway meal from the day before yesterday. Ian drank Peroni, Jackie chose Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Garnacha Syrah.

Becky spent some considerable time battling unsuccessfully with the interface between our TV and the You View box. She did, however make it possible for us to access Players and Apps from the TV. This will satisfy us until we obtain a replacement device.

This morning she continued offering her undoubted expertise by connecting me to Skype and showing me how to make screenshots during a rather frenetic video link with Malachi, Orlaith, and Sam in Fremantle.

There was competition for books to be thrust at the screen. Sam is currently reading the Harry Potter series to Orlaith who explained that they were her brother’s books. Mal had read them all in a matter of a few weeks when he was five. He is now on the teenage spy series, Cherub, by Robert Muchamore.

Dance routines were performed to the strains of Australia’s number one record. There was some rivalry for the prime screen shot.

My two grandchildren engaged in wand sword fights.

Orlaith donned her Harry Potter outfit

and snuggled up to her Dad for her bedtime story. Then we said goodnight. They are, of course, seven hours ahead of us.

This afternoon I uploaded Jackie’s pictures from the Hawk Conservancy Trust. Here are a variety of falcons in their environment.

She photographed the crowd focussed on the vulture landing beside them;

and watching the displays,

such as Ben with his vulture,

and the bald eagle coming in to land from two miles away. The smudge on the top right of the second image is one of the first heavy raindrops that poured from the suddenly looming clouds.

This evening we dined on minty lamb burgers, creamy mashed potato, crisp broccoli and carrots, and tender runner beans. Jackie and Ian drank Hoegaarden; Becky drank Straw Hat rosé, and I drank more of the Garnacha Syrah.

Number 32

One of Aaron’s tasks today was to reinforce the

wobbly posts on the entrance to the Rose Garden,

cerinthes have proliferated by self-seeding.

The Oval Path curves round the bed beyond that entrance.

Shadows fall across the Gazebo and Brick Paths.

The yellow and orange diurnal poppies are preparing for my daily dead-heading routine.

The rejuvenated red Japanese maple rescued first by me and then by Aaron a couple of years ago blends well with honesty and the background camellia.

The eucalyptus enhances a number of views.

A spreading white spirea graces the Palm Bed.

Honesty, bluebells, daffodils, and a variety of daffodils add their points of colour.

Bees busy themselves gathering pollen from the crab apple blossom.

This afternoon we all drove to The Beachcomber at Barton on Sea. This had clearly been a most popular idea. The café itself was virtually empty, but the garden was packed out. We managed to find a table and wait for our drinks. A rather wearied staff member would come out with a tray and call the relevant number of the order.

I watched one young gull preening on a rooftop, while

a black headed gull seemed taken aback by the sight of

a most glamorous dog-walker.

Smaller birds, such as sparrows, hoped to find crumbs on the tables.

Bolder starlings emptied the plates of left-overs. When they carried off their prey they were lucky if it was not snatched by the marauding gulls. This group was feasting on the scraps of number 32.

This evening we dined on succulent roast lamb; crisp roast potatoes and parsnips; multicoloured carrots; green beans; Yorkshire pudding; sage and onion stuffing; piquant cauliflower cheese; mint sauce; redcurrant jelly; and flavoursome gravy. Jackie and Becky drank Western Cape Chenin Blanc 2018, Ian drank Kronenbourg, Louis drank water, and I drank Moravista Merlot Bonarda 2018.

Wrecking The Shrubbery

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This afternoon, Jackie drove me around the East of the forest.

A group of donkeys diced with death as they munched on the verges of the winding lanes approaching East End,

where a llama in a field slowly swivelled its gaze in my direction;

and seasonal signs included blackberries ripening in the hedgerows,

starlings gathering on overhead cables,

and pheasants trotting across the moorland.

Three young cyclists came whooping down the approaching slope and up the next,

until they ran out of puff, dismounted, and, with a certain amount of trepidation, negotiated their way past fly-pestered ponies bent on keeping cottages’ grass cropped.

One of the many wandering cattle at East Boldre craned over a white picket fence and set about wrecking the owners’ shrubbery.

Gulls and swans shared Beaulieu’s Hatchet Pond.

This evening we will shortly be driving to The Family House at Totton where we will meet Becky, Ian, and Elizabeth for an excellent Chinese meal.

P.S. The evening was most enjoyable. The restaurant served the usual excellent food; the ambience being as warm and friendly as ever.

“You Can’t Keep A Good Brit Down”

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This morning we drove to New Milton to buy Jackie a bag to carry her overnight stay requirements for our trip to Bicester tomorrow. We then continued to Friars Cliff where we brunched in the Beach Hut Café.

There are two rows of beach huts there – one on the promenade above the beach level, and the other further down. These colourful buildings brighten such areas.

This dog walker had probably made his way from Avon beach, curving away in the distance..

Long shadows were evident even just before midday.

A gull perched on a post catching what warmth there was from the sun piercing the clouds.

Dogs frolicked

and their owners

crossed each other’s paths

on the sand.

At one end of the lower level of beach huts

sat a couple of women, so well insulated from the chill air that Jackie cried “You can’t keep a good Brit down”, which they appreciated.

On the way home .we diverted to Mudeford

where gulls paddled in the shallows at low tide.

Of the several boats

tethered or grounded

in the harbour one was overturned.

Others fronted the moored yachts

and the quayside buildings.

Branches were spectacles on the sand.

On the sea front’,

having missed the boat that was stocking crabs on the van for Brixham,

hopeful

young starlings,

gathered

for possible treats;

they would have enjoyed the great slabs of Spanish omelette that Jackie conjured from the seemingly entire contents of a greengrocer’s stall bound by the massed clutches of multiple brooding hens. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the malbec.

Losing The Plot?

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The sun returned today. This set us up nicely for our trawl through local solicitors in order to find one acceptable to the Family Building Society and willing to witness our signatures on the Mortgage Deed and the Declaration of Understanding.

Starting off at Milford on Sea we hit the jackpot with Dagless and Whitlock. Almost.

For these forays Jackie remained in the car while I tested the ground. This firm were willing, but they only had one Partner. The lenders insisted on two. I therefore decided to phone Garry, our mortgage advisor to see if he could find a way around this. There was no signal. When, a little later, there was one, Garry was on answerphone. I left a message.

Returning to our car I had the opportunity to envy groups of carefree folk enjoying the sunshine on the green.

We drove round to the GP surgery to collect a prescription. A spider sunbathed in the car park. It was then that I remembered Anansi. Was this creature a good omen?

We decided to hedge our bets, and try more solicitors in New Milton.

Outside Roger Cobb’s farmhouse on the coast road, a string of starlings seemed prepared to take off on a murmuration.

Neither Dixon & Stewart

nor Heppenstalls were prepared to witness the signatures, because this would suggest that they had advised us, which they hadn’t.

I was about to enter a third legal establishment when Garry rang me back with the news that a firm with only one Partner was acceptable to the lender. Monogamy rules. Back we went to Milford on Sea where we made an appointment for the witnessing, to take place on 18th.

We had definitely earned a brunch at the Beach Hut Café at Friars Cliff.

Sunlight slashed the ocean,

and was borne by the waves

onto the beach where people walked their lolloping dogs and the red seaweed has almost disappeared.

One canine was keener to get to the water than was its owner.

On leaving the car, I had carried my camera, lenses, and the mortgage paperwork in a hessian supermarket bag. When I had finished taking the beach shots I didn’t have the bag. Thinking I must have put it down somewhere, I retraced my steps up to the carpark. The bag was nowhere to be seen. Back down the slopes and the steps towards the café I trudged.

Then I noticed Jackie, clearly wondering where I had got to.

Then I noticed what she was clutching. Having removed the camera I had handed her the bag. I was definitely losing the plot.

Suddenly I recovered my appetite. Now we could enjoy our brunch.

As we left the café I watched a young man allowing a little boy to be adventurous on a rocky breakwater while keeping a safe closeness.

It was definitely a day for ice creams. Despite his expression in this photograph the concerned gentleman shared his companions’ pleasure at the picture.

Another couple struggled a bit with the breeze.

Only a couple of days ago I had been told that I needed to send the report of the mortgage valuation of the house to the solicitors. The final task of the day was to return home, place this, with a covering letter, in an envelope and post it to the manager of the solicitors in Stockport, by recorded delivery. This involved a second trip to New Milton. At least it means I will know when they have received it, and they won’t get away with pretending it had arrived later.

This evening we dined on a spicy stuffed crust pizza and fresh salad, with which I drank Mendoza Parra Alta malbec 2016.