Ramblings
We have concentrated so much on paths recently that, on a bright and sunny morning, I decided to take a tour around the beds.
Each of these pictures bears a title in the gallery. The only editing has been a little slight cropping. I trust the Head Gardener will forgive the occasional inclusion of a trug.
The sunniest, coolest, part of another day of developing humidity was before we left this morning to visit Mum at Woodpeckers. Jackie took advantage of this to carry out an early spell of gardening.
I nipped out to photograph her Head Gardener’s Walk clearance, which she had completed yesterday evening, and she showed me the solid lump of hellebore root which had never produced flowers during our time here, that she had prised out of the soil and was too heavy for her to lift.
Mum was on very good form, conversing with wit and humour, especially when we commented on the haircut she had received just before we arrived;
and when she instructed Jackie to quarter a serviette offered because she had forgotten to bring her tissues. After each use the sections were neatly folded, possibly for further application later when they had dried out.
My mother can see very little now, but did struggle to catch sight of a fearless baby robin that darted overhead, paused in a small tree, perched temporarily on a rail in her eye-line, dived on an ants’ nest beneath, returned to the rail to digest its prey, then swooped across Mum’s shoulder, to repeat the process at will. Jean could see the flash of action. She could also hear the building work across the road and ask what was being erected.
More gardening was undertaken this afternoon. My contribution was extensive dead heading, and breaking up the hellebore roots pictured earlier. They were indeed too heavy to be carried in one dump bag, so I distributed them among several.
This evening we dined on roast beef, horseradish sauce, boiled potatoes, crisp Yorkshire pudding, crunchy carrots and broccoli, with meaty gravy. Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc, and I drank more of the Shiraz.
Today dawned bright and sunny with a welcome breeze to lessen the gathering heat and humidity which made gardening too unpleasant after we returned home from an outing.
By courtesy of Danni’s voucher birthday present to Jackie we enjoyed a most enjoyable brunch at Rosie Lea Tea Room (ex The Hobler Inn) on Southampton Road. My already plentiful and well cooked Full English breakfast was supplemented by my wife’s donation of her hash browns and toast.
These were the garden views from the marquee which we occupied.
From there we drove to Pilley for an up to date record of the scene. The lake is fuller after the recent rains;
more of Quarry Cottage is mirrored in the additional little pool;
it is still possible to walk across to take in
the view from the opposite side, in the foreground of which foxgloves linger and blackberries develop.
Today the lake invited further reflective photographs.
When approaching East Boldre from opposite Hatchet Pond I glimpsed waterlilies through trees. Jackie parked beside the verge along which I walked until I came to the open view I knew would emerge.
On the way I took in the delights of grasses, heather, blackberry blossom, and bees, one of which had become attached to a petal from a previously plundered plant.
Many of the ponies we passed were sheltering from what developed into a much hotter period. An exception was this group including a growing colt grazing along the roadside.
White butterflies flitted over a field of flax further along the road.
Having seen what we had for brunch, readers will not be surprised to learn that no later sustenance was required.
Today remained hot-sticky-humid throughout with very little sunshine. This morning Jackie ironed the last bedsheet; this afternoon I pressed the last three shirts.
The Head Gardener continued clearing, composting, and planting; while I applied myself to dead heading
such as Mamma Mia, Crown Princess Margareta, and Absolutely Fabulous; and to gathering up heaps of clippings.
Day lilies and everlasting sweet peas continue to proliferate.
The Brick and Gazebo paths are now clear once more,
as is the Phantom Path running between Margery’s and the Cryptomeria Beds.
Soon after we arrived here we found the iron ends of this bench in the jungle that we inherited. I bought timber for the slats and fitted them into place. It has become somewhat unsteady. Today Jackie reinforced it with metal stakes and resettled it. We no longer need to be apprehensive when sitting on it.
During a rest period I read enough more of David Copperfield to scan the next three of Charles Keeping’s excellent illustrations.
‘ ‘Miss Mowcher!’ ‘
‘My aunt sat looking benignantly on me, from among the borders of her nightcap’
In ‘People about me crying ‘Silence!’, and ladies casting indignant glances at me’ Mr Keeping makes the reason clear.
This evening we dined on roast chicken thighs; firm carrots and broccoli; tender cabbage; and boiled potatoes, with which Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I finished the Fleurie.
Today continued with warm clammy-inducing humidity. The morning was still drizzly; although the afternoon was dry.
We both carried out further stints on the ironing backlog; Jackie’s before, and mine mainly after, lunch.
During the last few days, the Head Gardener has continued clearing the borders of paths such as the Phantom Path, the Cryptomeria Bed footpath, and the Brick Path. I helped her bag up the clippings from the latter.
The hanging baskets and other containers on the kitchen corner are filling out nicely. Having trimmed the fading Chilean Lantern tree has opened the red bottle brush plant to better viewing.
Elsewhere rose Just Joey is benefiting from trimming of the red carpet rose, and day lilies and gladioli mingle with geraniums.
As the afternoon wore on the light feigned the midnight hour. Suddenly a solitary thunder clap ushered in a brief torrential downpour which, like a Swedish runner practicing Fartlek training, varied its pace as it continued its descent. Fast periods dwindled to steady drizzle, then picked up tempo and repeated the process.
I read more of Charles Dickens’s novel, David Copperfield, and scanned four more of Charles Keeping’s illustrations displaying examples of his extensive range of portraiture.
‘I waltz with the eldest Miss Larkins’
‘I came out into the rainy street, at twelve o’clock at night’ looks as if Mr Keeping knows what is outside my window.
‘She was introduced as Miss Dartle’, complete with the scar the author describes.
‘Mr Peggotty laid his niece’s face with a gentle pride and love upon his broad chest, and patted it’, demonstrates the artist’s sensitivity to the author’s characterisation.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata with which she drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I drank more of the Fleurie.
On another dull, humid, morning Jackie continued garden maintenance while, since we may be approaching sufficient relaxation of Covid rules to necessitate un-crumpled attire, I made a start on the pressing ironing backlog.
Before lunch we visited Otter Nurseries for the Head Gardener to purchase potting grit and yet more bedding plants.
We then drove to Barton on Sea where the Marine Drive area was occupied by visitors and by a gathering of paragliders.
The gliders breezed along above the green,
seemingly unnoticed by the occupants of various benches, including one gentleman engrossed in The Sunday Telegraph featuring Queen Elizabeth’s message to the England football team ahead of tonight’s Euro 2020 final against Italy.
The aerobatic performers also enjoyed bird’s eye views of holidaymakers on and around the beach below.
This afternoon I watched the Wimbledon Men’s singles final between Novak Djokovic and Matteo Berrettini.
Before settling down to the aforementioned football match we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata and tender green beans with which she drank Awatere Valley Sauvignon Blanc 2020 and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2019.
I experienced another of what I now recognise to be barometric pressure headaches through the night and morning, so the first part of the day was a washout.
After lunch and a doze through an Antiques Road Trip recording I perked up enough to watch the Wimbledon women’s singles final between Ashleigh Barty and Karolina Pliskova, and employ my scanner to produce images, first of Charles Keeping’s inimitable illustrations to my Folio Society edition of David Copperfield, and subsequently of the last few slides from my cemeteries project.
First the memorable drawings:
‘An ugly old man rushed out and seized me by the hair of my head’
‘I beheld Miss Murdstone, on a side-saddle, ride deliberately over the sacred piece of green, and stop in front of the house’. As always, this portrait is faithful to one featured earlier in the book.
Keeping’s particular mastery of perspective is demonstrated in ‘He stood at the pony’s head, looking up at us in the chaise’
‘We found Annie lying on the hall floor’ displays the artist’s flowing lines.
‘It was Mr Micawber!’
Now the memorials found in Tower Hamlets Cemetery in March 2009:
The third image shows a pigeon perched atop the Cowderoy gravestone; the fifth displays an example of the genealogical research that has enabled symbols of family trees for those stones that have succumbed to time’s erosion. Bigification by accessing the gallery with a click is recommended.
This evening we dined on tasty lasagna garnished with basil and plentiful fresh salad with which Jackie drank Blue Moon and I finished the Cotes du Rhone.
Our good friend Carole has given me the perfect illustrated information on yesterday’s mare and foal colouring. I have added this to the post which now reads: https://derrickjknight.com/2021/07/08/my-little-snipper/
Warmed by this morning’s sunshine I completed my work on the front garden gravel path, and, ignoring a nesting sparrow’s warning cry, and scattering slithering woodlice seeking safety, opened up the stepping stones to the compost bin that stands behind the hydrangea and the red carpet rose.
This afternoon I dead headed Félicité Perpétue and in the process stripped out yards of binding convolvulus. Much of this prolific white rambling rose needs tying back and pruning. This will be done tomorrow when I will also have to cut down many of the Leucanthemum Superbum marguerites in the corner which obscure Jackie’s view when driving out.
After this I settled down to watch the second Wimbledon Men’s Semi Final between Novak Djokovic and Denis Shapovalov. During a tie-break in the first set we experienced an hour long power cut. There was nothing for it but to go into the garden and clear up some of the debris from Jackie’s all day long weeding, pruning, and planting. The following photographs are hers:
The first two images are of the Pond Bed which appears at the bottom right of her work in progress along the Brick Path.
She is very pleased with her dahlias, kniphofias, and day lilies.
The Westbrook Arbour has received further planting; the Shady Path Bed’s recent planting is flourishing; the Owl Urn has been cleared of a surfeit of obscuring Japanese anemones, and the bed fed with compost.
These giant mulleins seem to reach the top of the greenhouse; The Head Gardener is particularly pleased with the arching diorama; the plentiful Polish Spirit clematis; the climbing Brownie rose;
and most of all with the Japanese maple that, as a spindly seedling, she dug out of a gravel path and has nurtured into life.
We had our electricity back in time for me to watch the second half of the match.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty cottage pie; crunchy carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli, and meaty gravy, with which she drank Blue Moon and I drank more of the Cotes du Rhone.
Today was one allegedly expected to enjoy intermittent sunshine. In reality this was more intermittent than sunshine.
We were conned by a bright start into taking an early drive to Puttles Bridge. In the event this was definitely intermittent.
Three-way traffic lights control gave me plenty of time to contemplate the verges on the side of the A337.
Watching a foal trot purposely across the low-flowering sward at the corner of Rhinefield and Meerut Roads at Brockenhurst I was surprised to see it latch onto a mare of rather different colouring. Equine genes in our neighbourhood seem to follow quite random routes.
P.S. I have received this very useful information from our good friend Carole: ‘Hi Derrick – couldn’t resist a little further equine info – ref your blog! In your pic, the foal is a pale chestnutty colour suckling from a slate grey coloured mother. Baby will end up grey too, and the older the adult, the whiter they gradually become. So you get the lovely dapple grey look at around the age of 8-9 years old, gradually fading. I had 2 Arab horses. The first was born bay (brown body, black mane & tail) & the second was born chestnut (tail same colour as body more or less). In both instances Mum was grey. Both babies became grey as they grew to be 2-3 years old. Very dark grey at first, the bay baby had a slate grey mane & tail even when her body colour got paler & the chestnut foal had a white mane & tail as an adult. So not surprising you were surprised! Glad you had a good birthday! Xx’
She followed this with: ‘Three photos of my Tammy – as a foal, a young adult and a 10!year old – starts a chestnut, becomes dappled, ends up white xx’
The terrain alongside the shallow, clear, yet treacly, bubbling burbling, rippling, fast flowing, Ober Water was mostly fairly soggy and gathering reflecting pools, although beside the well-drained banks exposed lacy-veined roots writhed around water-eroded soil.
Aided by the recent winds, rose Doris Tysterman has stretched herself across the drive. Later this afternoon we righted her and tied her to one of our old stumps. I dug out three brambles while we were at it.
The pocket dead heading tool Shelly gave me yesterday came in handy. There are many more examples of this piece of equipment on Google.
This evening we dined on spicy Thai fish cakes garnished with onion rings; piquant cauliflower cheese; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; and tender runner beans, with which Jackie finished the Rosé d’Anjou and I started the very smooth Signargues Cotes du Rhone Villages 2020, which Shelly had also brought yesterday.
The weather remained cool and breezy today with barely a glimmer of sunshine. We received welcome visits from Shelly this morning, and from Elizabeth this afternoon, each bringing birthday presents.
One of my sister-in-law’s gifts was a little pocket dead header which I employed on my photographic afternoon ramble round the garden.
It enabled me to produce a presentable picture of Doris Tysterman.
The rest of these photographs can be identified by clicking on any one to access the gallery. Don’t miss the bee and the hoverflies.
This evening we dined at Lal Quilla where we both started with Prawn purees; Jackie’s main course was chicken sag, and mine King Prawn naga; we shared a plain paratha and special fried rice, and both drank J. Tourville Rosé d’ Anjou 2018. The food and service was as good as always.
Now I am going to watch the Euro 20 football semi-final between England and Denmark.