April 2020 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Escalating The Situation

With the aid of Elizabeth’s stick

I managed to walk the whole length of Downton Lane and back.

A cyclist passed me on the way down, and was himself

overtaken by a car.

As they approached the bend, round came another bicycle The pedallers made a neat vehicle sandwich and no harm was done.

Across neighbouring fields parked vans

could be seen. At any time of the year you will always see one carrying campers on this lay-by.

The road narrows and bends at the bridge over the

shallow stream now barely visible beneath the scrub. It is quite difficult for a pedestrian to hug the narrow verge, especially when not wishing to grasp the metal rail that someone else might have touched.

After leaving the bridge I passed this friendly young couple approaching it. They seemed to have understood the principle of social distancing in the time of Corvid.

On my return back up the hill I passed a comma butterfly enjoying a mud bath provided by

an underground stream irrigating the tarmac.

One border entrance to Shorefield Country Park appeared to be quite effectively closed.

While I followed a cock pheasant trotting up the lane (biggification will reveal him keeping to the right hand verge) I noticed the two young people holding a conversation in the distance. As I approached I rather expected them to move over a bit to let me pass.

When they shifted just a little to avoid a passing cyclist who had been forced onto the wrong side of the road, it became apparent that my assumption had been erroneous.

The standing couple stepped back again after the cyclist had gone. When I arrived I stood quietly in front of the vehicle, slightly to the right. It appears that I was invisible. Eventually I said “I don’t think you are giving me two metres to pass”. The pedestrians laughed, “It’s not funny”, I calmly announced. There were two women in the car. The driver cried “He’s my son. I haven’t seen him for a long time”. Raising my voice a little to make sure she heard me, I replied “I’ve seen him twice today. The first time I thought he’d got the idea, but clearly not”.

The driver started the engine and drove on as I stepped aside. The couple continued on up the hill. I called to them “You didn’t need to go right away. I just wanted space to past.”

Making no reply they walked on in silence. As so often when a third party makes an unnecessary intervention, the situation is escalated.

It was only when I uploaded this last photograph that I noticed the sign in the window.

In the meantime Jackie photographed

two Japanese painted ferns;

the budding Cordeline Australis;

a very hairy caterpillar;

a tellima grandiflora;

a red leaved pieris;

an enlarged camassia;

and a pigeon perched on the weeping birch.

This evening we dined on moist smoked haddock; piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese; boiled Jersey Royal potatoes; bright green spinach; and flaming orange carrots, with which Jackie drank Peroni and I drank Wairau Cove Sauvignon Blanc 2019.

Redundant

The Head Gardener has renamed what I have been calling the Kitchen Bed because it runs alongside that room. It has become

the Pond Bed because it sprawls across a sunken pond filled in by our predecessors. At the western corner stands the frog pond created from an old cistern; at the eastern end

the Waterboy fountain. The Waterboy was found in bits in the undergrowth at the far end of the garden. Now he provides drinking water for thirsty birds, and a backdrop for

diurnal poppies.

Some of the bronze fennel in the first picture is flanked by the now ubiquitous Erigeron.

The Head Gardener, during her husbandry today, produced all the photographs in this post. We have images of

camassia,

bluebells;

a hyacinth,

lithodora,

and clematis of similar hue.

Blue solanum spreads over this arch spanning the Brick Path.

heuchera leaves,

aquilegias or columbines,

and rhododendrons, in various shades of red.

Tulips, especially

Queen of the Night, continue to attract.

Honesty and a New Zealand flax

can be seen sharing a berth beyond the Weeping Birch Bed.

Daffodils,

including those named after a Pheasant’s Eye, continue happily to bloom,

as do the various colours of cyclamen.

Orange Flash marigolds accompany lilac diasica.

Comfrey and

geraniums hang well together.

This hydrangea now spins a fine web.

Spirea Pink Ice has responded well to nurturing,

as have all the pelargonium cuttings in the greenhouse.

Just how much food can this rapacious blackbird carry off?

While Jackie was tidying the pots on the decking she was aware of Nugget’s presence, but not sure where he was.

She therefore moved a container exposing a collection of luscious worms.

It took her robin familiar about twenty seconds to alight. “Where’s Nugget?” (71)

and “Where’s Nugget?” (72). Bigification will probably be essential for these puzzles, but the second is rather easier.

Were it not for the fact that I carry out the task of uploading all these pictures and putting the post together with the explanatory text, I would probably be redundant by now.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy hot paprika pork, boiled potatoes, and broccoli, with which she drank Tsing Tao and I finished the Bordeaux.

A Paint Job

This morning, before dawn’s light had penetrated neighbouring trees, I photographed

the wakening garden from above.

Aurora first fingered the wisteria;

the crab apple

and the Amanogawa blossoms.

Aaron of A.P. Maintenance gave the shed two coats of paint,

then drank a mug of tea while, at a suitable distance, I admired his work and we came to the conclusion that we should have a crack at running the country together.

Afterwards I made him prints of this set of photographs and those of “Where’s Aaron?”.

This evening we enjoyed pre-dinner drinks on the decking and watched tiny airborne hoverflies floating around

red and gold Japanese maples;

flecked laurel leaves;

Brown Turkey ficus fingers;

and deep magenta rhododendrons – all kissed by the evening sun which

pencilled patterns around the Copper Beech bole,

and imparted a gentle glow to Florence’s sculpted cheek.

Our subsequent meal consisted of Jackie’s perfect pork paprika, cayenne and three chillis speciality, with which I drank more of the Bordeaux, her Peroni having been consumed on the decking.

Versatility

During the power cut yesterday evening I finished reading

being the fourth of Anthony Trollope’s Barsetshire novels.

I have to say I found this one rather ponderous in its political and philosophical passages, giving the impression that the periodical pattern of its publication promoted such prolixity.

Trollope’s familiar themes of love, marriage, and matriarchal machinations; the mores of the period; the importance of appearance over authenticity, and status over sincerity; devious deception, and struggles of conscience, are treated in this continuing chronicle of clerical kinship.

To my mind the author is at his best when dealing with the characters of his subjects, in particular through his easy command of dialogue, and his descriptions of his period.

Julian Symons has written a helpful introduction in which he acknowledges that he is at odds with many critics.

The Folio Society aims to commission illustrators commensurate in style with the periods of their publications. Peter Reddick’s elegantly delicate drawings perfectly fit the bill. Each is placed within the text of a single page, on a rather smaller scale than these I produce here.

A comparison of these with the same man’s woodcuts for Hardy’s ‘The Return of the Native’ provides ample examples of this illustrator’s versatility

On this dull but dry day Jackie continued with her planting as in this orange themed chimney pot,

and tidying along the Gazebo Path. She watched the blue tit at top right of this picture

feeding on sunflower seed hearts which it

carried up to the wisteria,

placing it beneath its foot with which it gripped the nugget while it nibbled away. This was done repeatedly.

Our very own Nugget, still skittish and clearly occupied elsewhere, is back investigating Jackie’s activities.

“Where’s Nugget?” (70)

The pieris behind the Nottingham Castle bench in the picture above is one example of the red/green complimentary colours that Jackie photographed along with all today’s photographs.

Another is shown by these geranium palmatum leaves turning red to warm up in cold weather.

The red Japanese maple stands beneath the golden one behind it;

the red leaves and gold flowers of this heuchera repeat that combination.

This evening we dined on roast lamb, roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, cauliflower, carrots, runner beans, and red cabbage with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cap Royal Bordeaux Supérieur 2016.

“Some Wet Things”

Throughout the day the promised rain fell steadily.

Early this evening we experienced a power cut for a couple of hours. The meat was in the oven; nothing worked; because of lockdown no alternative eating establishments were open; I had not prepared a post.

Fortunately the Culinary Queen had stocked up yesterday on salads and cold meats and had hard boiled a couple of eggs this morning. We therefore dined comfortably on an uncooked meal while watching Nugget swooping onto his feeder and making off with mouthfuls.

I finished reading Anthony Trollope’s “Framley Parsonage”, and will report on that tomorrow.

Also fortunately the Assistant Photographer had toured the garden earlier in the day to “photograph some wet things”.

Here they are. Notice all the raindrops. I trust the pictures can speak for themselves because I am knackered.

Avian Courtship

Jackie spent this, the hottest afternoon of the week, continuing her work of tidying and planting the garden,

I spent some time collecting up debris for the compost bin and sweeping paths like those named Brick

and Gazebo.

The strong sweet scent of the swinging wisteria penetrates

the closed stable door during the evenings.

A pair of Orange Tip butterflies seeming to savour honesty flittered about.

The clematis Montana Mayteen planted to mount the

now limbless cypress overlooking the Dragon Bed.

The light magenta blooms of Magnolia Vulcan beside the tree have benefited from the light revealed by the amputations;

while this red climbing rose we inherited, no longer having the arboreal arms to reach for, may follow the Head Gardener’s directions.

The velvet petals of these deep mauve tulips Queen of the Night

were intended by Mrs Knight to blend with the potted varieties planted in the Rose Garden at the same time.

Unfortunately the recent winds stripped the earlier blooms until, almost overnight the late risers yawned, stretched, and opened their eyes a couple of days ago.

These red wallflowers complement various locations;

similarly hued rhododendrons,

like these in the Palm Bed, are beginning to burgeon –

bench, box, and bluebells indulge me by continuing the alliteration.

This evening, as we enjoyed pre-dinner drinks on the patio, we witnessed an avian courtship.

On the far side of the garden a wood pigeon who didn’t fancy his chances, turned his back on the proceedings on the eaves where

another, attempting to look suave, winked

at his prospective mate – for life – prostrated himself

and gradually nudged towards her. She feigned enough interest for him to repeat the movement until he became close enough for her to fly off teasingly. Naturally he played his part and followed in pursuit.

We dined on tender roast lamb; crisp roast potatoes and Yorkshire; crunchy carrots; tangy red cabbage; and meaty gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Mezquiriz.

Ferndene Farm Shop Is Open

This morning I received an e-mail from our brother-in-law, Ron Salinger, attaching this photograph of a ship’s boiler exposed on Highcliffe beach last Thursday, 9th April, at the town’s lowest tide of the year. It is probably from Grampus, a tug wrecked in the 1920s.

Today the air was still hazy shortly before 9 a.m. when we drove to Milford on Sea hoping to find the fruit and vegetable shop open.

On the way there I photographed walkers and their dogs heading east along the cliff top.

Jackie photographed me against The Needles

from outside the empty car park. Note the closed sign on the money machine.

The view looking west towards Hurst Castle was layered in haze. The Isle of Wight image is another from Jackie.

Ever since we arrived here seven years ago I have chronicled crumbling clifftops. April is dubbed the month for showers. We have had none this year.

Consequently cracks clearly indicate the next rocky chunk to cascade down below.

Milford’s fruit and veg shop remains closed. We next tried Ferndene Farm shop where,

while I remained in the Modus, Jackie joined an orderly queue maintaining its two metre gaps as it turned a right angle at the corner of the main building. The occasional shopper exhibited some confusion and was given advice and explanation by vigilant staff including

a charming young man

who was on hand to dispense sanitiser for those not wearing gloves.

The system worked smoothly on a one out and one in basis. This gentleman concentrated hard on his boxes of eggs.

The plants outside were in excellent condition, although it was less easy for buyers to observe the requisite distance.

The Head Gardener was overjoyed as she returned to the car clutching crates of plants and robin food.

The ponies outside The Rising Sun at Bashley on our return home needed neither to queue for their sustenance

nor to keep social distancing.

A couple of weeks ago Jackie began tidying the patio.

On Sunday Aaron replaced the blue wooden furniture, and yesterday The Head Gardener photographed the area’s current condition.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious cottage pie; crunchy carrots and cauliflower, and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Mezquiriz reserva Navarra 2013.

The Ploughed Field

On another sunny but cold day of clear cerulean skies I walked further along Roger Cobb’s footpath and back.

While traversing the garden into Downton Lane I paused to photograph species tulips Lilac Wonder, forget-me-nots, and daffodils vying for space in the Palm Bed.

These three cyclists left the required amount of space as they skirted round me on the lane

where cow parsley,

bluebells, daisies,

and dandelions dominate the verges.

The fence beside number 21’s driveway bears careful, considerate, Easter greetings.

Residents of houses on Christchurch Road can now contemplate the crops to be sown in

the field I saw being ploughed from through the hedge of Honeylake Wood a few days ago.

Sawtoothed tractor tracks made tough travelling on parts of the footpath.

At the edge of the field alongside the wood I met two more neighbours I had never seen before. They had not taken this walk since coming here 20 years ago.

The couple had emerged from the kissing gate leading to the footpath between the wood and the field. We chatted for a while at a safe distance from each other until

they went on ahead of me back the way I had come.

More cow parsley,

and stitchwort lined the footpath back to Downton Lane.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie; crunchy carrots and cauliflower with tender cabbage. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Fleurie.

Sparring Sparrows

This morning I spent some time studying the various avian eating activities.

Garish goldfinches;

red-breasted robins – Ron or Ronette;

daredevil dunnocks;

squabbling sparrows;

great tits all balanced precariously on the feeders swinging in today’s cooler east wind.

I was fascinated by the various grips. The great tits grasped the mesh grid;

a goldfinch gripped the perching bars;

sparrows clutched whatever was handy, sometimes causing them to do the splits;

dunnocks fluttered their wings for fear of fdropping off.

Sometimes the flapping was quite frenzied;

sparring sparrows are especially vicious.

Ron, or Ronette, is shown above on a rare visit to a feeder.

Normally he or she, like bigger birds such as pigeons, collects spillage from the ground below.

When the stations are particularly crowded, even the sparrows wait their turn in the blossom trees above.

Jackie continued her considerable work in the garden, and reports that Nugget made several fleeting visits.

She photographed a young spider

from which Edvard Munch surely gained inspiration.

This evening we dined on the Culinary Queen’s wholesome chicken and vegetable soup with bread and butter, followed by flavoursome mixed fruit crumble and custard.

The Head Gardener’s Photoshoot

We had fun this morning helping Louisa – on the telephone, of course – to provide clues for an Easter Egg Hunt for Jessica and Imogen. Jackie came up with one of the best: ‘Toying with this clue will shed light on the answer’ would lead them to the toy shed in the garden. Because there are no sport programmes on Sky, Errol has cancelled his subscription to the sport section of that provider. Louisa and I between us managed ‘Not so much Sky can be seen here. Poor Dad’ – this for the family T.V.

This afternoon I entered the front garden with the intention of watering the pots. I found Aaron had already done it. That was a result.

Jackie took the garden photoshoot today, so all I needed to do was put all this together.

It was a good wheeze to place tulip pots on a table to obtain these angles.

As can be seen from these shots and the view across the garden to the bare copper beech, Aaron moved the blue wooden table and chairs back onto the patio for the summer.

A range of daffodils continues to delight.

For her focus on honesty the Assistant Photographer chose the bed beside the greenhouse and the Dragon Bed. This year she could have found it almost anywhere.