On another hot, sunny, day
I took a stroll around the garden, passing the Dead End Path;
the Heligan Path;
the Rose Garden;
the Palm Bed:
and the Cryptomeria Bed – where’s Jackie in this shot?.
and generally tidied,
including rearranging pots to her liking. She photographed some of these herself.
and a comma taking a pause on an owl,
while I photographed some of the frilly flamenco flounces flung among the tulips
Soon afterwards I walked along Hordle Lane to the paddock and back.
Various wild flowers line the verges.
Ten days ago when these wilting daffodils were young and fresh the bluebells now fronting them still lay inchoate beneath the soil.
A sunlit dock leaf took me back seventy years to “when I was a lad” and our mother told us that these, when rubbed onto the affected skin, would nullify nettle stings.
In fact they do not neutralise the venom, but with vigorous rubbing the moist sap does ease the pain.
Gaps in the hedgerows offer flanking views such as this wind-sculpted tree,
and neatly framed field.
The ditches are mostly bone dry, but certain stretches contain scummy smatterings of residual fluid.
Two strapping steeds grazed in the paddock
one corner of which was now carpeted with pine-cone piles.
On my return trip a pedalling cyclist sang peacefully to himself.
Later, hearing a pedestrian pair approaching from behind, exchanging pleasantries, I crossed the road to let them pass. They, in turn, were overtaken by a car,
by another bicyclist,
and by another approaching ambulant couple. The requisite distance was maintained.
This evening we dined on succulent roast pork; roasted new potatoes in their skins; crisp sage and onion stuffing; crunchy carrots and firm Brussels sprouts; and tasty red cabbage, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2018.