December 2022 – Page 3 – derrickjknight

Santa’s Float

On another cold, albeit slowly brightening, day Jackie and I took a forest drive just after 11 a.m.

Autumn leaves flocking on the still, silent, surface of Pilley’s icy lake will need a thaw before they begin their slow, rocking descent to the bed beneath.

Sage green lichen clung to branches

and decorated damp ivy coated trunks;

lesser limbs became embedded;

spectral skaters scraped converging rimy streaks across the frozen water,

while shaggy Shetland ponies quietly grazed.

The majority of this stubby little herd had rectified their recent absence from Bull Hill

which they now shared with curious cattle.

This bovine fixed me with a customary stare, then turned and

crossed the road. I tried not to take it personally.

Lymington River is tidal and therefore not frozen, and able to ripple and reflect the weak sunshine and Santa’s float.

In an effort to reorganise her fridge and larder, the Culinary Queen produced a varied menu for this evening consisting of left over helpings of my Susan’s chicken, of Shelly’s beef stew, one of her own earlier penne Bolognaise dishes from the freezer. She and I opted for the Bolognese while the others enjoyed some of everything. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Ferry By Wheelbarrow

Our paving material was due to be delivered after 9.30 a.m. this morning so that Martin could be on site to take delivery and direct the driver to the Back Drive which is where we wanted it.

Fortunately, having arisen at 6.55, I was sitting in my dressing gown carrying out my normal WordPress responses when the front doorbell alerted me at 7.45 that a Dorset Stone truck was occupying one side of Christchurch Road, on the assumption that the material was to fill our front drive.

The friendly and helpful driver warned me that I need to be careful, because the ground was very slippery, as I stepped out to check the width of his vehicle. I thanked him and responded that he had no idea just how careful I needed to be. Needless to say he had not been informed of the expected delivery time.

Having directed him to where he should unload, I grabbed a coat and slid through the garden to assist if necessary.

I was mightily impressed with the skill of the man who reversed his long, wide, truck along the Back Drive, with only an inch or two either side.; and relieved that the vehicle was well equipped to unload the heavy slabs electronically. The larch branch extended over the path was the only casualty when hit by the overhead crane.

Martin’s first task then, was to remove and cut up the broken arboreal limb.

He then continued his preparation of the patio levels. He, unfortunately, will, later in the week, need to ferry the stone across the garden by wheelbarrow.

This evening Jackie produced flavoursome vegetable rice to accompany Tesco’s finest chicken Kiev (Yellow ticket) with which I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2021.

Pattering Precipitation

Jackie has recovered well enough this afternoon to drive Dillon and Flo to a couple of shops where they made purchases while she waited in the car.

Despite the forecast for snow

the early morning frost was largely washed away by a later sleet storm, so the post prandial precipitation pattering upon glistening fallen leaves dripped not from the now clearer skies but, when slithered into sufficient pendulous weight. directly from

glittering crab apples and

rose hips;

spiky leaves of bottle brush,

softer ones from other trees,

and shivering rose petals.

Later Shelly visited bringing a delicious beef stew for our dinner this evening. All I needed to do was to prepare potatoes, runner beans, carrots, and broccoli. Jackie then heated everything, or, as she said, “orchestrate[d] it”. I finished the Malbec with mine.

Sans Aniseed

Jackie has responded well to penicillin and is now recovering.

We experienced our second frost today.

The early sun sent the icy drops of the wisteria leaves melting;

it took a while longer to illuminate the lower plants

and grasses,

or paths like the Brick

or the Heligan;

and later to redden the lingering leaves of the copper beech.

This post from my first days of blogging:

tells the story of the meal I spent this afternoon cooking. As I mention, it requires powdered aniseed. This is not in our larder, so once again Susan’s chicken has no aniseed and I had to be creative with other ingredients. The linked post featured in the above one is still lacking pictures, but the text may interest newer readers.

Flo boiled basmati rice to accompany the chicken with which I drank more of the Malbec, then settled down to watch the Football World Cup Quarter Final match between England and France

A Home Visit

Jackie is not one to spend a day in bed through illness. Her cold has now developed into a severe chest infection. This morning the productive cough continued and she had a throbbing headache – itself a rarity.

It was clear to me that a home visit was required. Once through the system I managed to convince receptive others of that. A quick phone call from a GP resulted in a speedy visit from two paramedics attached to the surgery; a thorough examination by them; an immediate phone call back to the GP; a prescription sent directly to the Milford Pharmacy for antibiotics and steroids which Elizabeth collected for us within a couple of hours, bringing with them a bunch of flowers.

Jackie was able to come down to sit in her chair for the afternoon. She even went to sleep in it – a first.

I did find time for a quick dash around the garden with my camera, where

the copper beech

and the Japanese maples are fast shedding leaves;

rose hips, especially if I haven’t been able to reach them for dead heading, add their own seasonal colour;

shadows stretch across surfaces like that of the orange shed;

primroses have forgotten the month;

the winter flowering clematis Cirrhosa Freckles is well aware that we are in December;

and this viburnum is not sure.

Our blackbirds are tucking into the crab apples. This one enjoyed pecking at the fruit beneath the leaf at its feet until it saw me and sneaked off into the shrubbery with it.

This evening we dined on my sausages in red wine, with cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, and boiled potatoes chopped by Flo with which I drank Mendoza Malbec 2020, Dillon and Flo drank elderflower cordial, and Jackie abstained.

First Frost Of The Year

After the overnight frost we scraped ice of the the car windows soon after 11 a.m. and ventured out into the cold forest’s sunlit chill.

A five barred gate cast its shadows among golden brown autumn leaves, some of which brushed my head on their descent to the verge of

South Sway Road.

Wootton moorland’s milk-white mantle was streaked with silver

coating leaves, ferns, and grasses.

A pointillist’s brush had stippled the still lingering leaves.

Although traces of ice still continued to cloud the surfaces of neighbouring potholes the rippling stream at Wootton Bridge freely flowed.

This evening we enjoyed second helpings of yesterday’s Red Chilli takeaway.

The Garden Plays With Light

I have just discovered that the apparently random line of text that now appears beneath the heading of my posts – “Do you have favourite place to visit? Where is it?” is today’s gem – is my today’s prompt. I ask you?

On another cold yet bright and frost free day, while Jackie, Flo and Dillon purchased a Christmas tree from Ferndene Farm Shop, I enjoyed couple of walks around the garden. There was just a small window of light between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. when the sun sent its beams from high enough in the sky to cast glitter and shadows across our plot. My second foray was undertaken after I had allowed time for solar movement.

Shadows of geraniums and window frames were cast on the kitchen curtains.

Chair backs left their prints across the various paths,

along which Phoebus picked his way;

a sunlit leaf nestled beside a lichen coated twig criss-crossed by the spokes of a wooden bench;

the owl perched on the Westbrook Arbour glowed above backlit golden leaves,

like those lingering on the

Weeping Birch.

This evening we dined on Red Chilli’s excellent takeaway fare. My choice was Naga Chilli Chicken, special fried rice, onion bahji, and peshwari naan with which I drank more of Gran Selone. The others may report on their own choices, should they feel so inclined.

On this, another day of rest and recuperation while recovering from a heavy cold, I finished reading

which, according to Studs Terkel in his excellent introduction, “Dorothy Parker, at the time of its publication in 1939, called ‘the greatest American novel I have ever read’ “. Like Terkel, who has surely read many more, I would concur.

The Folio Society produced this fine edition to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the original publication. Without giving away too much of the story I can say that this is the tale of myriads of farming families driven from their rented lands by the Dust Bowl drought and the owners of their farms which could no longer provide their living. Terkel cites the 1988 drought as a repetition of the earlier natural disaster. And here we are again facing the consequences of worldwide similar events.

Firstly, this is a gripping tale focussed on the flight of one family and those they encounter along the way to the promised land of California. The prose is of the quality that was to win the author the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1962. The narrative flows along with intermittent lyrical notes. Speech is given in the vernacular which is natural and uncomplicated.

Steinbeck uses straightforward language to describe landscape, events, atmosphere, and character to a degree that takes us right there with him. We see, hear, touch, and taste, with all the protagonists; and empathise with their feelings.

We are reminded how shared adversity can both bring people together and divide them; we see generosity in that adversity and we see how fear of difference can turn to hate and violence.

The division and mistrust between the haves and have-nots reflects today’s chasms. If you have not yet read this novel I would urge you to do so. There are many lessons therein for all of us.

Terkel was an inspired choice of introducer because his prose is commensurate with that of Steinbeck. He places the work in history and in the writer’s oeuvre.

Bonnie Christensen’s muscular illustrations are, as can be seen by the pages in which they are set (except for the full page one), faithful to the text:

The diagonals crossing the front cover continue across the spine to the back board. The design is based on the artist’s frontispiece above.

My header picture is Dorothea Lange’s Migrant Mother, from a California migrant workers’ camp in 1936.

This evening I dined on more of the chilli con carne while the others, except for Ellie, enjoyed beef burgers and chips. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Gran Selone.