June 2016 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Country Girl

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This morning I received a request from Judith Munns to post a daily wildlife picture on Facebook.

I spent some time making a few selections and began with this one from https://derrickjknight.com/2015/04/14/close-encounters-of-the-asinine-kind/

This afternoon Country Girl was delivered.

At Fiveways she has replaced the chimney pot,

removed by Jackie and Ian to a corner of the Dead End Path.

Jackie found several versions on this young lady on the Internet, but none with such an pleasingly elegant face.

On Fiveways she has several viewpoints.

Jackie has filled her planter already.

Later, after Becky and Ian had returned home, our new garden chairs were delivered. Naturally they had to be introduced to Peroni and bordeaux. This magnificent, reasonably priced, furniture is made locally by Handmade From The Heart at hmftheart145@gmail.com

Behind Jackie is the Dead End Path. From there I once more photographed our Country Girl. The camera picked up that the poor young lady was covered in flies.

Jackie and Becky have been experimenting, rather successfully, with making Cornish pasties. Fortunately this meant that there was enough surplus pastry and contents for Jackie to produce a beef and vegetable pie for our dinner this evening. Despite there being carrots in the pastie mix we had more, with cauliflower, green beans, and new potatoes, served with the pie. Orange trifle was to follow. We continued with the drinks we had consumed earlier.

Mini Marathon Rewards

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Yesterday evening, apparently of its own accord, our front door opened and in walked a dog.

Not to worry, it was Scooby, soon to be followed by Becky and Ian who had come to stay the night.

As we sat around the kitchen table, lowering sunlight played on the eucalyptus blooms.

This morning I cut the grass while Aaron continued with the fencing.

After this, I scanned the last few negatives of the October 1983 mini marathon, featured in the last two posts.

Louisa was quick to join the leaders having first go at the refreshments.

This time, Sam really had finished his run,

and took his turn at the scoff;

along with all the others, including our stalwart Nos. 1 and 2.

No. 24., considered by some readers to be elegant enough to be a potential professional, remained equally composed at the trough.

This afternoon, Becky noticed a considerable amount of pink, with which she produced this symphonic work.

Standing on a sitting room carpet

she glanced through the patio French windows

at the sheets drying on the chairs toning nicely with the flowers and the maple reflecting the velvet curtains.

This evening we all dined at Lal Quilla in Lymington, where we enjoyed our usual warm welcome, efficient service, and excellent food. My main meal was king prawn naga and chapatis. Three of us drank Kingfisher and Becky drank rosé wine.

Mini Marathon Part 2

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We began this dull, overcast, day with two trips to the dump with three bags of clippings. Returning with only a towel rack, this was almost a first. (A first would be coming away empty-handed).

After a little clearing up in the garden, by request, I printed a photograph of Jackie’s great-nephew, Billy, that I had made on 18th February, for his maternal grandparents.

This afternoon I continued scanning the mini marathon negatives I had begun yesterday.

I think this child wanted to get back into her pushchair. She was happier later, in her chariot.

The toddler who began the race in his Dad’s arms, then progressed to the shoulders, has now found his feet, and is bearing down on No. 2.

Another pushchair rider brings up the rear of this particular group.

No. 24 is perfectly composed,

while No. 22 took uncomfortable advantage of a lift.

No. 19 seems to be disrobing, perhaps having adequately warmed up.

Hang on, Sam. You haven’t finished yet.

At least one Dad is flagging;

perhaps the cuddly toy is the camel’s straw. Encouraged by his brother and sister, Sam has realised he has another lap to do,

as have a number of others.

The flagging Dad has got a second wind;

and Granny, determined to stay ahead, has got her first.

Nos. 1 and 2, held onto their respective positions, earning them first refreshment scoff.

This evening we dined on cheese-centred fish cakes, savoury rice, new potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, green beans, and baked beans, followed by orange trifle. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I trank Prestige de Calvet Bordeaux 2014.

Mini Marathon Part 1

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Today’s rain was heavier, and steady. We drove to the Post Office in Hordle to replenish my stock of stamps and send the French water payment on its way. The next visit was to have been to the dump with our bags of hedge and other clippings. We didn’t fancy that so we went to Molly’s Den to seek out a belated Birthday present for Jackie. We were successful.

This is it. No, not the lions.

Too much for us to manage, she will be delivered on Monday.

On our way home we pass fields full of sheep. Today we noticed that they had recently been shorn. Although Jackie observed that it was probably kind to remove the fleece from these creatures at this time of the year, I commented that I would not like to be stripped naked and shoved out in the rain.

Should you wish to see what happens when a sheep remains unshorn, you may like to follow this link: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3220414/Enormous-Canberra-sheep-overgrown-fleece-gets-haircut-years.html

Towards the end of 1983, Sam participated in a mini marathon organised by his nursery school in South West London’s Furzedown. I had photographed the event. I made an album of prints and presented them to the organisers. I thought I had lost the negatives, until I was delighted to discover them alongside the Devon holiday ones I have featured over the last couple of days.

Even when supported by Becky and Jessica, Louisa didn’t think much of the idea of joining in.

This little chap seemed determined to live up to his numbering.

Matthew, on the left, came along for the encouragement. The gentleman on Sam’s right offered his, too.

This Dad had his hands full.

No. Sam was not sponsored by Kentucky Fried Chicken. I sported his number earlier.

Some entrants needed a helping hand or two.

Despite appearances, I don’t think this young lady was about to go sprawling.

Hallo. Number 13’s Dad has hoisted the toddler onto his shoulders, as the leader notches up another carefree lap.

Sam, meanwhile is in hot pursuit of No. 11 as she drifts past No. 7;

those two have Mums in support; Sam has Mat and Becky. Six months earlier they had run alongside me as I completed my first London Marathon.

In a ring of supporters Jessica steadies the tally board. Louisa, on the right, still wonders what could be going on.

No. 1 retains his lead,

while the toddler on the grass appears to have wandered off piste.

I featured a photograph taken later at this event in ‘Out On Their Feet Amid The Confetti’. There it is clear that I had forgotten that Sam was the only contestant wearing a genuine marathon number, and that I had saved it from the Farnham Castle Marathon.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb sausage casserole, crisp carrots, cauliflower, green beans, and new potatoes, followed by apple pie and custard. She drank Hoegaarden, and I finished the madiran.

The End Of The Roll

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We were promised sunshine and showers today. In the end the rain dominated. Consequently I was unable to cut the grass. There was nothing for it but, with the sun on my back when it did put in an appearance, while being dripped on by the trees, to take advantage of the light to photograph raindrops; then hit the massive ironing pile.

The Chilean lantern bush is on the left of the Gazebo Path, and the yellow bottle brush one to the right. The eucalyptus is in flower.

The bottle brushes were well washed;

as was the rhododendron that has bloomed in the Phantom Bed since these views from the Heligan Path and the Brick Path were last featured.

These sweet peas are now adorning the arch to our right.

Peonies heads are too heavy to be raised

in the Palm Bed, so named for the cordyline Australis.

From the Oval Path to the right can be seen Elizabeth’s bed with its bright pink hydrangea;

and straight ahead through to the Rose Garden, where

Mum in a Million

and Margaret Merrill have both washed their faces.

This day lily in Margery’s Bed has just had a shower.

Between shirts I nipped out to photograph this view across the Kitchen Bed from the Patio.

This afternoon I scanned the last few frames on the Devon September 1983 holiday roll of colour negative film featured yesterday, when Mary observed that an image of Jessica and Louisa warranted a close up. This is the next shot in which I have

first cropped the background,

then brought the subjects into close-up.

Once released, Louisa was quite clear where she wanted to go,

but not quite so confident when negotiating the terrain,

which hadn’t fazed Sam at all.

Here is Jessica shortly before we left.

Back home, our daughter adopted the usual exhausted mode.

Jackie having returned from her three days away, we dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, pickled onions and gherkins, followed by Dorset Apple Cake brought back from Tolpuddle. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Reserve des Tuguets Madiran 2012.

A Devon Holiday

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On this pleasant but blustery day , I spent a while reading on the Ace Reclaim bench. My current novel is ‘The Death of the Heart’ by Elizabeth Bowen. Naturally, my eyes wavered to take in the views offered from this vantage point.

Straight ahead is the Palm Bed and beyond;

to my left the path continues past the Fiveways chimney pot;

and back to the house to my right.

Later, I scanned some colour negatives of a holiday Jessica, Sam, Louisa, and I took in Devon with a neighbouring family in September 1983. We are no longer in touch with these friends, so I do not have their permission to post photographs of them and their children. However, I am able to publish

the Dart Valley Railway train and platform,

including the steam dome from the historic engine.

I don’t remember exactly where we stayed, but our entrance into the guest house was never to be forgotten. We arrived when all the other residents were eating. As we trooped through the dining room, Sam announced to the assembled company, ‘I’ve got nits’. We then quickened our paces somewhat.

Perhaps it was on Dartmoor that we came across

heaps of granite boulders,

sometimes with streams running down them.

There was plenty of rocky terrain, as Jessica, Sam, and Louisa discovered.

Louisa needed her Mum to give her a lift occasionally.

Ever adventurous, Sam strode over an ancient stone bridge.

I was even photographing

Red Admirals

and bees in those days;

even a diseased leaf caught my attention.

Finally there was a portrait of Louisa in her customary finger and thumb sucking tired pose.

This evening I dined on Jackie’s perfect pork risotto.

Graffiti Dominates

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This morning I dead-headed 24 prolific rose bushes. That was quite a lot of faded blooms. All my life I have understood the preferred method to be to snip off the used stem above the next join. Now, The Head Gardener informs me that current thinking is to break off the spent flower at its base, and leave it at that. Despite the convenient length of my thumbnails, I have had difficulty in doing this without peeling off a bit of the remaining stem. I have therefore cheated somewhat with secateurs.

The thornless Zéphirine Drouhin is now rising up the Rose Garden arbour

opposite Crown Princess Margareta. Being seated between these two most fragrant ladies is a pleasure, indeed.

I did not neglect the front garden, where a clematis is now joining the pink climbing roses.

After this I dealt with some financial correspondence and posted my replies.

Then came a scanning session of a dozen more of my Streets of London colour slides from May 2004.

The grey haired man in Harlesden High Street has to negotiate his way between the ladder outside the boutique and the young man’s backpack. You don’t leave anything unattended in such an area without chaining it down. It was fairly optimistic hoping that the traffic cone would keep a parking space open. Note the graffiti and the To Let board, of which there is always a wide selection.

Honeywood Road’s Dunning’s Bar is not the only Irish establishment we will encounter on this ramble. Maybe some of my readers will be able to translate the Guinness advertisement. If there was once a lovely wood on this site, it is long gone. ‘Toilets are for patrons only’ is a common plea of landlords.

Tubbs Road has its share of graffiti and dumped rubbish. Even before we learned that there were no weapons of mass destruction ready to be unleashed on the Western world within 45 minutes, there were many disinclined to believe Mr Blair; and I suppose Che Guavara’s image will never leave our streets.

Just around the corner is Willesden Junction Station, Station Approach road. There is something incongruous about an advertisement for The Economist perched upon a wall covered in graffiti. The name of the company, JCDecaux, who installed it has remained intact. Perhaps the can-wielding scribblers thought that was also a graffito.

At that time Pancras Road was very difficult for anyone, let alone a pedestrian, to negotiate. The splendid refurbishment of St Pancras Station and the King’s Cross redevelopment was well under way.

A little further into N1 we come to Highbury Station Road, its wall being decorated with the now familiar sprayed scrawl. The Barracuda Pub’s Cock may have been Famous, but Google tells us that the chain is no more.

I often wonder how graffiti merchants manage to place their messages high up on buildings, but here, in Highbury Place, a convenient fire escape provides a route. Torn posters are all the rage. Chaining bicycles to railings really is asking for trouble.

I do hope this was refuse collection day in Islington’s Fieldway Crescent.

Columbian and Chinese establishments in Holloway Road indicate the multicultural nature of this area of North London. Remington on the corner of George’s Road bears the yellow graffiti.

Tommy Flynn’s in Chillingworth Road is another Irish pub.

I do believe Arsenal must have won the football championship in 2004. Madras Place, of course, is one both the many London streets named from our colonial past.

These establishments on Drayton Park have not escaped the spray can. There is always a crane in operation somewhere in our capital.

This evening I dined on Jackie’s amazing chicken jalfrezi and egg fried rice, and drank Doom Bar.

Taking On The Hedge

Jackie, having kept me supplied with plenty of food, drove off this morning for her annual three day holiday with her two sisters.

The griselinia hedge between us and the corner bungalow has begun to push Jackie’s spring planting across the back drive in search of light. After today’s earlier rain, I decided to give the trees a good clipping. This also meant tackling stubborn brambles and ivy infiltrating from the neighbouring garden. The brambles got their own back with thorns, the ivy with stubbornness, and the griselinia with drips.

Every so often we need to remind ourselves what each area looked like two years ago.

This was the back drive then. Jackie is at the far end.

This is as it is today. To the left lies fencing that Aaron and Robin are working on. To the right the griselinia clippings have spilled over the orange bags. A dump trip or two will be required on the Driver’s return.

The New Bed which lies on the former compost heap at the corner of this drive contains, among other plants, two clematises, aquilegias, geranium palmatums, erigeron, poppies, and dahlias on their way up. The fuchsia is in fact behind it.

In the rose garden, Aloha, which was rather poorly until The Head Gardener set about feeding and nurturing it, is now doing well.

As the sun emerged later in the day, they bees came out in force.

They flitted about among the yellow heucheras, taking the nectar on the wing.

Bottle Brush plant

On the also yellow Bottle Brush plant, they did have time to stop and burrow.

A second clematis has now bloomed on the gazebo.

I dined on Jackie’s luscious sausage casserole and mashed potato, followed by her delicious rice pudding. Doom Bar was my beverage.

A Wildlife Garden

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DID I MENTION THE CRICKET?

It is two years since we were last assisting our friend Giles in opening his garden in Milford on Sea. Once more, today, we took the first stint in his rota.

Overnight rain had only recently desisted at 11 a.m., so Jackie, on the door, had plenty of opportunity to work on her puzzles,

while Giles and I chatted until the first visitors arrived.

Blu-tacked onto the entrance window is a well-deserved certificate.

Beneath this is one of the gardener’s creative sculptures, made from found objects. The upright stone was once part of a window in Southwell Minster.

Here is another from the bottom of the garden.

This one contains examples of his stained glass work,

as does this view from the sitting room, showing the artefact on which stands his tree encircled by butterflies.

A further creation on the decking is seen through the French windows.

Pebbles and granite sets creating paths and other features were all collected over a number of years from on and around the nearby beaches.

Seventeen years ago, this rambling haven was almost completely grassed over. It is now packed with trees, shrubs, and other features attractive to wildlife.

Raindrops still pilled on the fibres of smoke tree;

foxgloves;

clematis;

and osteospermum – even on the little cricket’s antennae.

A notice visible in the second clematis picture indicates and lists the uses of the wildlife hotel;

another extols the value of viper’s bugloss to bees.

I expect these latter enjoy delphiniums, too, although blue is Giles’s favourite flower colour.

Had the rain persisted, no doubt this hut, with its natural seat, would have filled up with visitors;

certainly the pond would have topped up with water.

This evening we dined on the rest of the Chinese Takeaway, and both drank Kingfisher.

A Bee And Three Flies

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Early this morning, we drove Sheila to Brockenhurst for her return home. Apart from Jackie’s planting , and my occasional wander round the garden on this overcast day, we spent it flopping.

We have blooming clematises

Niobe and Arabella on the kitchen wall;

Comtesse de Bouchaud sporting a fennel veil;

Durandii, making its way above geranium palmatums playing host to a bee in the rose garden;

Margaret Hunt;

and this one Jackie recovered after finding that a creature had burrowed underneath it. We had wondered why it wasn’t doing anything.

The recently flowering rhododendron blends well with the Clematis Star of India, the ubiquitous geranium palmatums, and poppies against Jackie in the background.