August 2017 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Do Cattle Predict Rain?

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After much overnight rain, today was humid, overcast, and drizzly.

It seemed a good morning to visit Kitchen Makers in Sway. The Culinary Queen has been managing with a less than ideal cooking area since we moved here three years ago. Of the two local outlets, there are no prizes for guessing why this one should have taken the Head Gardener’s fancy as the first to investigate. An on-site visit has been arranged.

Afterwards we took a drive through the forest where even the swathes of heather and clumps of gorse could barely enliven

the gloom.

Now, does anyone really know whether cattle can predict rain? As a townie, I grew up believing that they always lay down when it was about to rain.

It seems this is now in doubt. Whatever the truth of the matter, it was clear to us that all the ponies we peered at through the drizzle remained on their feet, whereas the cows chewed the cud in a recumbent position. Anyone wishing to examine the issue may find why do cows lie down on Google helpful. On the other hand, they may not.

This evening we dined on chicken breasts wrapped in bacon, boiled potatoes and carrots, piquant cauliflower cheese, and spinach. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Chateauneuf du Pape.

The White Doves Of St James’s

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Before we set off for Emsworth yesterday afternoon, we watered every plant container in the garden. This took some time. Just as we passed Brockenhurst on the way to Becky’s birthday celebration, I realised I had left my wallet at home. Returning home for it added 45 minutes to our journey.

Assembled at the North Road flat were Matthew;

Tess, seen here with Jackie;

Becky’s friend, Naomi

and her son, Louis;

Ian;

Becky, seen here expressing surprised pleasure at our present of a Jutta Manser wood engraving;

and, of course, Poppy, here taking one of Flo’s teddies for a walk in her grown-up cousin’s toy pushchair;

trying on a Princess crown she had made herself,

changing into a suitable outfit to match that of another teddy;

rolling around the floor;

and bouncing a balloon.

Across the road at Nicolino’s restaurant our granddaughter polished off two bowls of olives before the starters arrived,

then enthusiastically joined in the toast.

I sat diagonally across from the other gentlemen.

Jackie, opposite me, photographed the ladies. Matthew was also engrossed in the story Becky was relating. Poppy, twisting her noodles, seemed a little concerned that her Grannie had grown a flashing object on her face.

Eventually the menu was studied for a choice of desserts.

Tess’s sunglasses were passed around.

Here is Becky looking none the worse towards the end of the evening,

and Poppy as lively as ever.

This could hardly be said of me when Tess came over to photograph my rather daunting Eton Mess, before which I had consumed a fine minestrone soup with chunks of white bread, followed by an appetising fish risotto. Naomi and I shared the best part of a bottle of Bardolino. As you can see, I was past caring what anyone else had enjoyed.

We stayed the night at Becky and Ian’s and returned home soon after 8 a.m.

Before this I photographed some rooftops from the balcony. Visible in this third picture are

the white doves that live in and around the belfry of St James’s church.

Periodically the birds would take off,

wings glinting, fly over the houses,

and return home to roost.

This evening we dined on flaky smoked haddock, piquant cauliflower cheese, boiled potatoes and carrots, with bright green spinach. I drank Cru de la Vallée du Rhone Chateauneuf du Paps 2015.

Ladybird, ladybird…….

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As shown from the solanum and honeysuckle on the trellis, our front garden remained free of ash from next door’s bonfire,

and, although some the precipitation, such as this on the pulmonaria

and Japanese anemones, remains,

the fire has died down and we are able to see the garden views again, and beds like that of the Dragon are able once more to savour the sunlight.

This decorative dahlia

sharing the Oval Bed with orange hawkweed,

bidens, phlox, and rampant rudbeckia, basks in a more pleasant source of warmth.

Gladioli and sweet peas retain their pristine whiteness;

contents of the iron urn cascade over the Brick Path;

and these potted chrysanthemums enjoy the increase of light provided by the removal of the North Breeze jungle.

Splendid stinging nettles, like this one in Elizabeth’s Bed, are making their presence felt. They will have to go.

Little cherry tomatoes are ripening;

the grass looks lush;

and the Weeping Birch Bed,

Kitchen Bed,

and Rose Garden, fresh again.

Now, what do we have here? “Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home; your house is on fire and your children are gone.”

This afternoon we are on our way to Emsworth for a family celebration of Becky’s birthday. We will stay overnight and I will report on that tomorrow. It will be an Italian meal at Nicolino’s.

Fifteenth Anniversary

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This morning we set off on the Bisterne Scarecrow Festival Trail. At each end of the road through the village and its environs a town crier announced the event.

Various outlets sold leaflets listing the entries with a map showing their locations. The price was £1 in aid of the Village Hall. Most scarecrows sported a receptacle for donations to the same cause. We bought ours from Tyrell’s Ford Country Inn. As this was the last stop on the route, we carried on our search in reverse order, although my photographs are here presented starting at number 1.

This was The Scarecrow with no Name!! outside Old School House. It didn’t look much like Clint Eastwood.

24, Dragon Cottages was responsible for both no. 2, We’re all going on a Summer Holiday;

and no. 3, We have gone to Pot.

Gangsta Grannie resided at 23, Dragon Cottages. It was a neat touch to provide her with a walking frame.

A punster was responsible for Country Life is in the Jean’s (sic).

Charlie the Train was a recycling of Thomas the Tank Engine featured four years ago. An engineer stands in the cab;

the prospective passenger behind him can be seen through a window;

and a signalman waits outside. This exhibit was produced by the residents of 71, Lower Kingston.

A subtle wit was employed for I’m just Cheese (Cheese straws – Get it?), at Clover Cottage, 16 Lower Kingston.

It was particularly breezy at White House, Kingston, where Crow Farm was situated. The farmer had lost his hat and his wife swizzled on her stick.

I picked up and replaced the hat (seen beside the wall in the first picture) and the wind righted the good lady. They seemed rather pleased.

There was a Hive of Activity outside Iona, 18 Christchurch Road. Witticisms were written on tags attached to some of the bees,

and other clever details, such a bridal couple.

A leggy spider is Surfing the Web outside 221, Christchurch Road,

while on the green across the road cheeky Peekaboo Pikachus enlivens the shrubbery.

Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson peers from the garden of 6 New Road.

By the cattlegrid in the forest on Charles Lane we have Not Forest Rangers it’s the Power Rangers.

3 Little Pigs inhabit the brick sitting room outside Rose Cottage, 51 Bagnum. Mum’s photograph stands on the mantelpiece, and a notice asks visitors if they can find

the Big Bad Wolf.

At 37, Sandford, Country Fun portrays the television programme Country File. Each of the figures,

for example John Craven, carries a photographic image of a presenter.

On the big oak trees in Dragon Lane hang an explanatory notice about Whispering Wood

and half a dozen pairs of eyes fashioned from car parts.

A Tin Can Alley had been set up outside 39, Sandford, in Roll Up Roll Up.

Another work that invites us to a further search is Noah’s Ark in the grounds of St Paul’s Church.

We failed this one, because we only found five of the six pairs of animals.

The Blue Planet appears somewhat out of its element outside the driveway to the Stable Family Trust.

Wonder Woman had lost one of her amulets in the grass of Garden Cottage,

while another unlikely American symbol, Humpty Trumpty, sat on a wall

in the grounds of Tyrell’s Ford, above a snoozing Mexican.

A fifteenth wedding anniversary was being celebrated outside Lower Bisterne Farm.

Having completed our tour we just had time for lunch in The Three Tuns at Bransgore.

Jackie enjoyed a burger, chips, and salad; while I chose superb Mudeford haddock and sea bass in an excellent sauce served with a crisp range of vegetables. My lady drank Peroni while I drank Ringwood’s best bitter. As usual, this rendered an evening meal unnecessary.

Donkeys and Ice Cream

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When we arrived home from Elizabeth’s late yesterday afternoon, the house was very smoky, and the garden full of ash, all emanating from a bonfire in the North Breeze garden, which had been almost razed to the ground. The jungle is no more.

Much rain in the night freshened up our garden,

but had not put out the fire which was added to today.

Some parts of our plot and its contents, like these dahlias, still saw the sun,

but mostly it remained befogged.

Elizabeth, Danni, and my great nephew Jasper, came to lunch, after which we drove in convoy to Hatchet Pond.

Jasper and his Gee-ma investigated the lapping wavelets at the edge of the water.

A woman handed the little lad a bag of prawn crackers with which to feed the water birds. As I said, you always receive too many of this freebies with a Chinese takeaway meal. Jasper wasn’t all that interested, so Danni decided to feed them to

the hastily arriving donkeys, one of which was really very young.

She began with a medium-sized one,

which was head-butted away by the largest creature.

This animal was so aggressive that the crackers were soon chucked on the ground.

Leaving Jackie on a bench, the rest of us walked to the far end of the pond, past the water lilies,

and others seated in the sun,

in search of ice cream.

Elizabeth clutched wipes for protection against her grandson’s drips,

occasionally licking her lips in anticipation.

Eventually she was handed the melting cone.

After this, the aggressive donkey rested its muzzle on my lap.

We dined on Mr Pinks’s fish and chips, gherkins, and pickled onions. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, while Elizabeth and I finished the Douro.

Danni has just e-mailed me our selfie on the bench.

A Little West End History

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Barbe Baker Hall is named after the grandfather of a former resident of Elizabeth’s house, The Firs.

From my sister’s bathroom window can be seen the roof of this historic corrugated iron chapel. The tiled roof in the foreground is that of her purpose built workroom.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KamYPQ_qBd8&w=560&h=315]

This ‘Tin Tabernacle’ is, according to https://www.geocaching.com, ‘a survivor of several “dissenter churches” founded in the area between 1764 and 1843 and is built of corrugated iron and painted green. It has the title “Barbe-Baker Hall” after the Rev. J.T.W. Baker who was Chaplain at the South Stoneham Union (Workhouse) situated a mile away. His grandson was the well known “Man of the Trees who collected trees from around the world and planted some fine specimens in local parks.’

Despite its dilapidated appearance, this establishment remains a regular place of worship.

Elizabeth points out that anyone interested might like to buy her house, glimpsed in this photograph, which is currently on the market for sale: http://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-60590944.html

The Workhouse was, after the formation of the National Health Service in 1948, and with the addition of other premises, converted to the Moorgreen Hospital which. last year, was sold to developers.

Historic buildings have been retained and are being converted; some later, minor, buildings demolished;

and the land filled with new flats and

houses forming the residential development entitled The Pavilions,

currently being constructed by Barratt Homes. The roof of the original building was, this afternoon, crawling with an army of scaffolders.

Some of the properties are already occupied.

Apart from the now usual hold-up from horses on the road out of Beaulieu, we had an uneventful drive home from Elizabeth’, where we had stayed the night.

My sister had provided an excellent roast chicken lunch, so pizza and salad was all we needed to keep us going through evening. With this, Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I consumed more of the Douro.

Kuti’s

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Today was a busy one with not much time to post. Jackie drove us to Emsworth where we decanted into Ian’s car. He drove us, with Becky as well, to their financial advisor in Pagham where we sought his advice on a loan.

On our return to Emsworth we stopped for a drink at The Walnut Tree in Runction in West Sussex.

We then returned to our own car and Jackie drove to Hedge End near Elizabeth’s for her to check out the route for an appointment she has early in the morning. We are staying the night at my sister’s.

We spent a while chatting in her garden, under the beady eye of an inquisitive wood pigeon.

Wondering whether my chair had begun to sway, I eventually realised that the wooden chapel in Geoff and Jackie’s garden had developed a list to starboard.

The three of us dined at Kuti’s Indian restaurant in Fair Oak. I almost forgot to photograph the excellent spread.

My choice was possibly the best king prawn jalfrezi I have tasted. We shared onion bhajis, mushroom and pilau rice, plain paratha, and Bombay aloo. Elizabeth drank Indian Runner beer, Jackie’s choice was Tiger, and mine, Cobra.

Savouring The Meaning Of Life

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On this dull but dry morning, we transported more garden refuse to the dump and returned with a shove ha’penny board. First of all, having just received a contract giving a start date of 31st March 2014, but no bill I made another telephone call to British Gas. This time I was informed that my position was justifiable. Having consulted her manager the representative told me she had to “monitor the account” until 23rd August, but I need not “stress about the three years” during which I have not been billed.

Before we arrived home, we drove to Friar’s Cliff Café for lunch, then on to the forest.

A large banner on the beach at Friar’s Cliff advised swimmers to stay between two flags;

some followed the advice;

others didn’t.

Young families went for a paddle,

or, like this energetic boy tossing up spits of sand,

employed their buckets and spades.

A pair of rowers gently glided by.

Jackie enjoyed her baked potato filled with beans, coleslaw, and cheese with a lavish salad. I was, for the first time ever in this excellent establishment, was disappointed with my pulled pork burger, chips, and salad. Any relative difference in size is purely the result of perspective.

My problem was that the few bits of lettuce beneath the burger constituted the salad, and the burger was beef with a topping of the shredded pork. I didn’t think that lived up to the above description, but was prepared to write it down to experience and make no complaint. We were, however, asked how our meal was, so, politely, and in a friendly manner, I explained why it wasn’t what I expected from the description. This was accepted and the description will be changed.

At the top of the cliff a hedge containing rosa rugosa Alba with its splendid hips,

blackberries,

thistles,

and Budweiser, tolerates the fiercest winds.

Blackberries also mingle with

the heather on the moors.

Horses at North Gorley preferred to do their paddling in the stream;

one, rather shy, took refuge behind its companion.

As we approached Stoney Cross Plain, Jackie spotted a bullock she thought had found the meaning of life.

You have seen what we had for lunch, so will not be surprised to learn that a small amount of Mr Chan’s Take Away sufficed for our sustenance this evening.

Dicing With Death

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What does Aaron have in common with a bee? You might be forgiven for imagining that it is that they both have very high work rates. That would be a good answer, but incorrect.

Watching our friend, unlit ciggy between lips, firing one-handed from the hip with his petrol-operated chain saw as he tackles the reshaping of our cypress tree, may provide a clue,

especially when you see the height of his tripodal ladder.

Aaron always clears up along the way. Today he dragged branches to the Back Drive where he cut up a few logs for his client, Susan, leaving the rest for the ‘burn site’ of the dump.

This branch demonstrates his clean cuts,

while this view from the patio displays the finished shape.

The persicaria red dragon baring its bloody fangs in the Dragon Bed,

and the crocosmia solfaterre are among the plants that will now receive more light and air.

In the Rose Garden, an intrepid fly scales the walls of Winchester Cathedral,

and geraniums in the stone urn beside the potting shed enjoy a glimpse of Summer Wine.

Japanese anemones appear to grow a foot each day.

The bee skirting a hopeful spider’s web, in order to work on a verbena bonarensis, provides the answer to my opening conundrum. Each in his own way is successfully dicing with death.

Later this afternoon we pulled up some brambles. As I walked along the Back Drive to deposit them in a bag for the dump, I almost stepped on twin juvenile collared doves sunning themselves on the gravel. Naturally I hurried indoors for my camera. When I returned they seemed to have disappeared. They were, however, simply playing hide and seek, foraging among the pebbles.

Not yet old enough for timidity, almost in tandem, they carried on about their business and left me to mine.

Here is a sweet pea for Bruce.

This evening we dined on Mr Chan’s Hordle Chinese Take Away fare. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the cabernet sauvignon.

Late Summer Blooms

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While Jackie, weeded, watered, and planted, my main gardening task today was extensive dead-heading. If anyone spots any heads I’ve missed in the following photographs, I’ll thank you for not mentioning it.

We have many petunias. These, with geraniums and erigeron, grace the sitting room wall.

These, in a basket hanging over the shady path, blend well with a dangling fuchsia and lobelia above;

accompany begonias,

like these above the Dragon Bed,

or are planted in beds.

Dahlias, such as Bishop of Lllandaff,

and some I can’t identify are cropping up everywhere.

This last trio grace the West Bed alongside the Dead End Path.

A furry bee is cleverly camouflaged by the red and yellow one.

Other bees explore a carpet rose

and a salvia,

two varieties of which are potted at the corner of the Kitchen Bed.

These chrysanthemums speak to the phlox behind.

I have no idea how many geraniums fill this stone urn nearby. Last autumn they were all little broken stems that the Head Gardener stuck in soil and nurtured through the winter.

Hibiscuses and Japanese anemones such as these on opposite sides of the Brick Path are typical of late summer blooms.

Another happy juxtaposition is that of the penstemons and Festive Jewel in the Rose Garden.

The climbing fuchsia Lady in Black, against the pink hydrangea backdrop, has begun its ascent up the new arch beside the greenhouse;

while the White clematis climbing the obelisk in the Kitchen Bed still flowers.

Jackie has produced her own individual signage for our paths,

and such as the Cryptomeria.

Finally, here is a view across the Palm Bed.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s lemon chicken, breaded mushrooms, boiled potatoes, crunchy carrots, and crisp spring greens. One of the advantages of being a wine drinker is that, after a tipple on the patio, I have some left for my dinner. It doesn’t seem to work like that with Hoegaarden. I drank Cimarosa, reserva privada cabernet sauvignon 2012.