Month: May 2020

Hedgerow Fairies

This morning I made a birthday card for Louisa using a print from my post https://derrickjknight.com/2018/02/18/from-eleven-to-twenty-one/

We drove to Everton Post Office to post the card. On the way we noticed that on Fry’s Lane

hedgerow fairies have been at work. Naturally I made a selection of their efforts.

We drove on to Otter Nursery where Jackie was delighted to find 50 trailing lobelias, for which she has been searching for the last week.

Given that WordPress have now reintroduced their advanced editor and I am trying to get my head round it, I have published a link to my earlier post (I wonder if anyone can guess which photograph I used for the card), rather than reproducing the photograph which would give the game away should my daughter read this; and have reverted to the gallery method which I eschewed for so long because they insisted on cropping pictures to fit. Only one of these images has been cropped and it doesn’t matter. That is because all except one picture is presented in landscape format without my having cropped them to taste. Clicking on any one image will access the gallery which can then be viewed in the preferred size.

So far my major disappointment is that I can’t find how to change the font to my favourite Georgia.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Carmenere.

Working On The Rose Garden

Today, the hottest day of the year, was fine and sunny.

While Jackie swept, weeded, pruned, and watered the Rose Garden. (This picture is not an official “Where’s Nugget?”, but on reading the blog and doubly enlarging it The Head Gardener identified our familiar robin clearly silhouetted above the central bloom of clematis Warsaw Nike in the right foreground.)

I pruned roses and photographed various scenes there and elsewhere.

The Mum in a Million rose chaperoned by gladioli and foxgloves to the left of the third picture above is now in her prime.

In the first scene Jackie attends the gazebo which hosts Crown Princess Margareta and Zephirine Drouhin each exuding strong sweet scents.

This pink climber scales an obelisk

beside Margaret Merrill.

Ballerina dances elegantly

and another nameless climber, a deeper pink, soars above the arbour.

The views from the Cryptomeria Bed and the Concrete Patio lead on to the Rose Garden. The above picture contains one of the

plethora of poppies we now enjoy.

These stand against a red rhododendron.

 

As these bushes are nearing the end of their flowering, a different colour combination comes into its own.

This can be seen above the bench beside the Heligan Path

Back in the Rose Garden our little goldcrest continued its reflected courtship. He wasn’t fazed by us, but Jackie has now covered the mirror to reduce tantalisation.

Nugget kept us intermittent company. “Where’s Nugget?” (79).

Another view from the Cryptomeria Bed takes us towards the house, passing an unseen

arch sporting this purple clematis.

This stunning non-hardy pelargonium has survived the entire winter in a pot beside the kitchen window.

More small alliums live in the Pond Bed opposite.

The Chilean lantern tree is now quite loaded.

From the patio we have a view along the Dead End Path.

This view looks south from the Gazebo Path.

Looking in the same direction along the Brick Path we see that Wedding Day is burgeoning on the Agriframes Arch.

The roses along the Back Drive borders will also soon cover the stumps.

Irises Reticulata are cropping up everywhere.

A few days ago we visited South Sway Lane

to check on Gimlet, our carrot-loving equine friend. His field was empty, as it remained today when we came back to collect more horse manure from the house opposite. It was all gone, although it had been there on our previous trip.

Undaunted, Jackie continued to Ferndene Farm shop where there was no queue and she was able to buy several items. Still on Sway Lane,

I disembarked to photograph some backlit grey horses. The immediately trotted over to their gate so I had to be satisfied with this shot, which biggifies quite well.

This evening we repeated yesterday’s meal, except that the potatoes were old and sprouting a few roots. Our alcoholic accompaniments were the same.

Seeking Acquaintance

Dr Louise DeSalvo (1942-2018) was, according to Katherine Q. Seelye’s obituary of November 11th 2018 in The New York Times ( nytimes.com ) ‘a Virginia Woolf scholar and memoirist’. She was Professor of English at Hunter College, New Jersey.

This afternoon I finished reading her book “Virginia Woolf: The Impact of Childhood Sexual Abuse on her Life and Work”, published by The Women’s Press in 1989. I have not read enough of Woolf’s writings to do justice to Dr DeSalvo’s interpretations, but it is clear that this author’s research is thorough and her writing well crafted. There are numerous quotations from novels, non-fiction, diaries, and letters referenced in notes at the back of this volume.

I do not dispute the facts of Ms Woolf’s childhood abuse, but I did feel that much of DeSalvo’s speculation which cannot be subjected to the examination of the deceased subject had to be based on the Doctor’s views on psychoanalysis and on her understanding of Victorian upper class practices and beliefs. In my view she has come to the conclusion that the particular Stephen dysfunctional household is typical of its class.

She has been strongly influenced by the work of Alice Miller, a Polish-Swiss psychologist who has produced much good work on parental child abuse.

It is perhaps likely that her undoubtedly emotionally deprived and abused childhood caused Virginia Woolf’s depressions and eventual suicide; and there are plenty of examples in her writings that Louise DeSalvo finds to support such an inference; but this cannot now be proved.

I have not read the memoirs of Dr DeSalvo, but the following section from the above-mentioned obituary may have a bearing on her own writing about Woolf:

‘In “Vertigo,” she tells of initially writing in her diary almost nothing of the crises swirling around her — her sister’s suicide (in 1984), her mother’s shock treatments for depression, her father’s anger at her for not being emotionally available during these traumatic events, and her own fainting spells, which she detailed in the book.’

Virginia Woolf’s creative genius transcends her traumatic life. Thanks to DeSalvo I am inspired to return to her work with new eyes.
While I was drafting this Jackie worked in the garden, taking a while to watch
a minuscule goldcrest seeking acquaintance with its reflection.
This evening I prepared a meal consisting of Jackie’s splendid pork paprika from the freezer with boiled new potatoes and tender runner beans with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and the sous chef drank Valle Central Carmeniere Reserva Privada 2019.

Masks

Yesterday’s dinner consisted of Jackie’s superb shepherd’s pie; crisp carrots, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Rioja.

We will have more of this this evening, including the same beverages. The vegetables may be different. I am just going to prepare whatever the Culinary Queen bought in Tesco this morning, where she was very much in the minority wearing a face mask.

This was not the case with field horses on South Sway Lane when we began a brief foray into the forest. Readers will be aware that the masks are for the animals’ protection against flies.

We had not been here since the beginning of the lockdown when the trees were bare;

 

buttercups had not arrived, dandelion clocks were young blooms;

and moon daisies

and cow parsley were simply seeds that had not yet germinated.

Horseshoe Bottom was quite crowded with grazing ponies having no need to maintain social distance

and walkers who did.

A group of red deer outside Sway seem to have relaxed their timidity during the months without humans.

 

A Bunch Of Roses

This afternoon I dead headed some roses then photographed them.

In the Rose Garden, Mum in a million is chaperoned by similarly hued self seeded foxgloves and gladioli that have found their way from the compost;

Summer Time, already tied up has sprung away from its tether and needed to be put back in its place;

Absolutely Fabulous is on the verge of living up to its name;

Festive Jewel is heavy with shining examples;

and For Your Eyes Only stretches far and wide. This last example is the only rose in the Rose Garden without a splendid fragrance.

In The Oval Bed Peach Abundance is a lavish cornucopia of delights;

Scarlet is represented by Altissimo at the corner of Elizabeth’s Bed,

and by Paul’s eponymous climber now dominating the wisteria arbour alongside clouds of blue solanum.

Spanning dead stumps along the back drive we have sweetly scented Emily Gray.

Compassion climbs alongside the Dead End Path;

nearby beside the patio an unnamed peach specimen sways in the breeze.

Whoops. I pressed post prematurely. I’ll tell you what we had for dinner tomorrow.

Playing With The Big Girls

On a bright, sunny, and warm morning we took a trip to

Everton Nurseries were there was no queue and Jackie was able to buy the elusive trailing petunias. The young man collecting up the discarded trolleys

sanitised the handles of every one.

It was perhaps no coincidence that he was tall enough to have a fair chance of keeping the requisite distance when sanitising the hands of customers needing it.  Most potential purchasers were wearing masks and gloves.

The notice in the centre foreground of the first picture spelt out the outlet’s necessary rules. One can forgive the superfluous apostrophe.

Jackie then drove me into the forest where, on a green on the outskirts of East End, a couple of ponies grazed.

She decanted me on Sowley Lane, along which I walked for half an hour before she followed and picked me up.

We have seen this assorted group of ponies in this vicinity for a good couple of years now.

The little Falabella is still allowed to play with the big girls.

The animals are normally quite comfortable in my company, but on this occasion they showed me a clean pair of hooves and, surprisingly, ran away.

This involved nipping over a pipe that Jackie soon afterwards photographed.

One of the larger ponies balked at the obstacle, and rapidly clattered across the tarmac heading straight for me. This distracted be somewhat as it was now me who had to nip – out of her way.

Off she dashed, mane and tail swishing past me,

to catch up with her equally fearful companions.

Jackie then turned her attention to a pulsing sound emanating from a crop field being irrigated on the opposite side of the road.

Water was being pumped from the lake and passed under the road by means of the pipe shown above.

Having satisfied her curiosity about the pumping sound Jackie turned her attention to the cock pheasant still trying to attract the attention of the hen who appeared to have rejected him earlier.

Next, she photographed me photographing the retreating equines,

then turning to continue on my way, eventually photographing

the car and cyclists seen approaching.

Other cyclists

and a tractor shared the road featuring

the eponymous lake on my left

and, on my right, woodland,

occasionally damp;

fields;

and a few attractive houses and gardens.

This evening we dined on oven fish, baked beans, and Jackie’s home made chips, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Vina Majestica Rioja reserva 2013.

 

 

Continuing To Cater

This was another fine, but cool, day.

As usual when Jackie stepped out of the stable door to fill the robin family’s breakfast tray

Nugget appeared in the wisteria before she had opened the cereal jar.

Soon after the Head Gardener had attended to her ever-multiplying avian infants we set out on what was planned as a garden centre crawl. In fact there was such a dearth of bedding plants which were all we could possibly make room for, that we stopped at two.

Ferndene Farm Shop presented its usual, smoothly moving, orderly queues, masked  members maintaining mandatory distance. I loaded bags of compost while Jackie paid for it and added a considerable quantity of bird food.

The next stop was Redcliffe, where there was no queue

and Jackie acquired a few flowers. Needless to say, like all other eating places, the Tea Room was closed.

This afternoon I dead-headed a number of roses.

The climber on the front trellis isn’t quite ready for the treatment, neither is

Perennial Blush along the back drive.

Also in the front garden we have calendula Orange Flush and deep red sweet William. The Euphorbia Mellifera in the background is just one of those we have whose honeyed scent lives up to its name.

The large blousy orange poppy, now past her bloom of youth nurtures a bud to take her place, while

the fully mature rose Margaret Merrill shares her bed with crisp offspring, with younger buds, and with an older relative whose time is done.

This was past siskin siesta time, so greenfinches were up and about drawing upon verdant leaves for camouflage. The clamour of a host of birds and their young filled the air around me.

The owls in this view of the Weeping Birch Bed looking northwards remain silent.

The peach rose beside the patio is pretty prolific.

If this is a bee on an erigeron

what is this?

Nugget Junior now fends for himself

while his Dad continues

to cater for his younger brothers and sisters.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome chicken, bacon, and vegetable soup with crusty bread from the freezer, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the El Zumbido.

 

Feeding Fledglings

Yesterday Jackie photographed these deep magenta gladioli Byzantinus in the evening sunlight.

This morning she focussed on her white and blush pink foxgloves

happily located beside viburnum Plicatum,

red Japanese maple and long lived camellia;

not forgetting blue iris, white Erigeron and osteospermum sharing a bed with diurnal orange poppies;

her favourite colour way of orange and purple pansies;

and burnished calendulas.

In the garden today one could almost trip over hungry fledgling birds.

Through the front windows Jackie watched and photographed a young dunnock being injected with nutriment.

 

 

 

Later, I watched an apparently abandoned quizzical youngster who had no instruction manual. It may have caught a winged insect, but didn’t really know what to do with it.

Meanwhile greenfinches swung on the almost empty seed feeder

while sparrows scrambled over each other for the last of the suet balls.

This evening, with Jackie’s superb extra garlicky savoury rice left over from yesterday, I produced a meal of Lidl’s prepared pork spare ribs  and runner beans. I spent some time reading the instructions on the ribs packaging then was offered a quicker alternative method by the Culinary Queen, whereupon, feeling beset by Harry Enfield,

I had to get my head around a different procedure.

All turned out well in the end. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the El Zumbido Garnacha Syrah.

Relaxed Restrictions

Late yesterday afternoon, beginning with

“Where’s Nugget?” (78), Jackie produced a series of photographs.

She was fascinated by the hairy borage

and a spiky caterpillar masquerading as a cactus.

Clematis Star of India occupies the wisteria arbour

through which is framed her favourite view of the garden. Left of centre, the Chilean lantern tree was lit by the evening sun.

Late this afternoon today, following the relaxed lockdown rules Jackie drove me to Bisterne Close along which I walked for 40 minutes before she picked me up and we returned home.

Unbeknown to each of us The Assistant Photographer and I focussed on the same subjects

 


Here we have tree fungus -Jackie’s

and mine.

To the right of this young female jogger stands a tree marked

for foresters’ attention, as in my photographs.

This would be too late for fallen (mine)

or broken (Jackie’s) trees.

One runner was exercising himself and his dog;

other people took a more leisurely pace.

I enjoyed a pleasant conversation with the friendly woman who kept the required distance from the runner and his pooch shown above.

There was much blooming rhododendron Ponticum along the lane.

Casting its shadow, a dark brown pony left a group ahead of me.

These wallowed in what, when we were last here, was a waterlogged verge.

Our final coincidental subject was the last of these ponies who, by the time Jackie approached was reaching for drier fodder.

We passed another pony on our way back along Bennetts Lane.

Golfers are now free to play on the Burley Course.

More ponies frequent the moors of Holmsley Passage.

This evening, along with her exquisite savoury rice, Jackie produced a variety of prawns: tempura; salt and pepper; and hot and spicy; and small vegetable spring rolls. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the El Zumbido Garnacha Syrah.