Exploration

We had a very smooth drive this morning to Southampton General Hospital for my cystoscopy test, but then a long wait for the procedure, partly because we had arrived so early. Interesting conversations ensued with a variety of other patients.

I need to return for another exploratory procedure for a biopsy to follow in the next 2-3 weeks.

Afterwards we brunched at New Forest Emporium Café, each choosing to repeat the meals we had enjoyed on our previous visit, viz

Jackie’s cheddar cheese and tuna panini, and my Big Beauty Breakfast.

We then collected my new specs from Boots Opticians in New Milton and flopped for the afternoon.

This evening we dined on thick mushroom omelettes; chunky oven chips, and plentiful fresh salad.

Rudin

Today I finished reading this work.

Given that until 1856, when Rudin, his first novel, was produced, Turgenev had produced only a series of short stories and drama it is perhaps unsurprising that this work reads very like a play. Much of the work consists of masterful dialogue with clearly defined scenes.

Almost as if introducing Act I, Scene I, the opening paragraph demonstrates the writer’s descriptive ability: “It was a quiet summer morning. The sun was already high in a clear sky; but the fields still glistened with dew, from newly awakened hollows rose a fragrant freshness and in woodland, still damp and unrustling, there could be heard the gay sound of early birdsong. On the summit of a gentle hill, covered from top to bottom with newly blossomed rye, a small village could be seen. Towards this little village, along a narrow cross-country track, a young woman walked, in a white Muslim dress and round straw hat, carrying a parasol. A servant boy followed some distance behind her.”

There are a number of examples of the moods of weather influencing those of the characters; and of its atmosphere lifting or depressing the cast. After a sudden summer storm “The sky had almost completely cleared when Natalya went into the garden. It breathed freshness and tranquility, that gentle and happy tranquility to which the heart of man responds with a sweetly oppressive stirring of secret sympathy and indefinable longings………”

Turgenev presents people, even relatives, who, despite thinking they know each other well, do not do so at all. Indeed, Rudin probably knows himself better than anyone, in that he understands that there is a disjointedness between his intellect and his emotions. He is able to throw himself into an activity or an idea, but always to let it slip away, destined to wander the world as he aged.

Through the voices of the eponymous protagonist and the several dramatis personae we learn that Rudin is an intellectually gifted and eloquent speaker immediately able to attract people but not to retain relationships. He is able to philosophise on love but not truly to engage with it.

The translator, Richard Freeborn, has produces a useful introduction.

Penguin’s cover shows a detail of ‘On the Banks’ by Repin.

In my second year of blogging, I was producing thumbnail pieces on books included in uncategorised posts. Here is an extract from https://derrickjknight.com/2014/09/04/the-scent-bottle/ produced on the old WP Classic Editor

“This afternoon I finished reading Ivan Turgenev’s masterpiece, ‘On The Eve’. In the 1850s, when he worked on the novel, the world was about to change through Russia’s devastating war with the English and European alliance. This is a tragic love story, beautifully, sensitively, and insightfully written. The characters are well drawn, and the prose flows pleasingly. The last chapters in which the ill-fated couple Elena and Insarov spend an evening watching ‘La Traviata’ brilliantly ties up the story, for, like Verdi’s heroine, Insarov is dying of consumption.

My Folio Society edition is elegantly illustrated by Lauren Nassef.”

This is the one picture I posted then.

This evening we dined on firm fillets of duck breast; tasty gravy; boiled new potatoes; tender brassica in the form of cabbage and cauliflower leaves; crunchy carrots; and cauliflower, broccoli al dente.

Paths, Poppies; Bees, Blooms

On the morning of this cool, sunny, day to the tune of gentle birdsong and busy bees, I carried out dead heading and light weeding; Martin continued his sterling work for the whole day.

Among several other tasks, including mowing the lawn, our friend

completed the weeding of the Phantom and Brick Paths.

The three cordyline Australis trees disperse their heady scent throughout the garden where the eucalyptus and the yellow bottle brush plants are also in bloom.

Bright red poppies, attracting bees,

and gentle yellow Californian varieties are at their peak;

bottle brushes also draw the honey gatherers.

Day lilies are putting in regular appearances.

Roses are represented by two different pale pink New Dawns, the white Madame Alfred Carrière draped across the entrance to the Rose Garden, and Peach Abundance.

Here are views of the Gazebo Path, from the Cryptomeria Bed and of the Rose Garden.

This evening we dined at Rokali’s where my main course was duck Ceylon, and Jackie’s chicken sag; we shared puris and sag rice; I drank Kingfisher and Jackie drank Diet Coke. All was perfectly cooked, and well presented with excellent, friendly service.

Whisking Flies

Late this afternoon we drove into the forest.

Beside Holmsley Road we watched a foal receiving a fly whisking lesson. One day its tail will be long enough to emulate its mother.

After passing a clump of wild foxgloves on Forest Road. Later, we

encountered a pony on the tarmac which did not budge despite the traffic all the time I photographed

its companions and their foals. The pair in the first two pictures were practising the nose to tail technique enabling them to whisk each other with their tails.

This evening we dined on more of Jackie’s chicken jalfrezi and rice meal from yesterday.

Flowers On The Verges

On this much cooler, overcast, morning we visited our GP Surgery for a change of dressing on my injured hand to find that it was now well enough healed to leave it open to the air.

We continued on a drive, first along Saltgrass Lane where

swans and other shore fowl feed in the shallows at low tide

which left white weed striating the rocks.

On 29th January “rules for all types of road users [were] updated to improve the safety of people walking, cycling, and riding horses.” For anyone wishing to learn more these are detailed in https://www.gov.uk/government/news/the-highway-code-8-changes-you-need-to-know-from-29-january-2022

On many of of our local lanes the required space is very difficult to provide. On New Lane, Keyhaven it is quite impossible. We waved as we passed this courteous couple who dismounted and heaved their steeds onto the verge of this narrow passageway.

At East End it was Jackie who took us off the road into a Farm entrance driveway for me to photograph the ubiquitous cow parsley which, in my view, looks much prettier in its natural habitat than in our garden.

White and pink dog roses;

early bramble blossom;

plentiful valerian grew out of St Leonard’s medieval barn walls with accompanying earthbound elderflower bushes, are all at their peak.

Jackie photographed some honeysuckle or wild woodbine.

Some verges along St Leonard’s Road are high, ancient, banks.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s authentic chicken jalfrezi and mushroom and onion rice coloured with turmeric.

Huckleberry Finn

Two sisters came bearing birthday gifts for Jackie today; first Shelly this morning; then Elizabeth this afternoon – also bringing scones, butter, and jam.

We enjoyed convivial conversations.

Between visits I finished reading and scanning the illustrations to Mark Twain’s iconic novel.

After dining on Ashleigh’s fish and chips; Heinz baked beans; Mrs Elswoods’s pickled gherkins; and Garner’s pickled onions, I reviewed the book, of which this is the illustrated title page:

In a journey with his older friend Jim along the Mississippi River, itself a major character in the book, Huck Finn spends every effort to carry the runaway slave to freedom. Both man and boy seek freedom, peace, and comfort. Huck has been adopted by a woman wishing to convert him from his carefree lifestyle to a more traditional middle class one; the “nigger” Jim wants to own himself rather than be valued at $800 to someone else, although he feels that is where he belongs.

They take off together on a raft, meeting various adventures involving a violent village where a lethal vendetta rages, and a man of public position is able to shoot another dead; a generous, friendly family; a gang hunting runaway slaves; a commercial vessel prepared to run down their boat. On each occasion Jim was forced to hide while Huck reconnoitred the scenes.

The story is a plea for non-violence, and above all an exposure of how the negro slaves are regarded as property to be bought and sold. As such we are shown that certain attitudes have not progressed in the intervening century and a half since the original 1883 publication. There have been a number of attempts in the 20th and 21st centuries to ban the book.

Written in the vernacular of the unlettered eponymous protagonist and the tongue of his black friend, the fluid prose of the book follows the calms and the storms of the river along which they travel. “Pretty soon it darkened up and begun to thunder and lighten; so the birds was right about it. Directly it begun to rain, and it rained like all fury, too, and I never seen the wind blow so. It was one of those regular summer storms. It would get so dark that it looked all blue-black outside, and lovely; and the rain would thrash along by so thick that the tree off a little ways looked dim and spider-webby; and here would come a blast of wind that would bend the trees down and turn up the pale underside of the leaves; and then a perfect ripper of a gust would follow along and set the branches to tossing their arms as if they was just wild; and next, when it was just about the bluest and blackest – fst! it was a bright as glory and you’d have a little glimpse of treetops a-plunging about, away off yonder in the storm, hundreds of yards further than you could see before; dark as sin again in a second, and now you’d hear the thunder let go with an awful crash and then go rumbling, grumbling, tumbling down the sky towards the under side of the world, like rolling empty barrels down stairs, where it’s long stairs and they bounce a good deal, you know” also gives examples of Twain’s simile and metaphor.

Colin Ward’s knowledgeable introduction is well written and helpful.

The pages including Harry Brockway’s muscular wood engravings contain further examples of Twain’s prose.

The header picture is of the boards and spine of my Folio Society edition.

Scan

We spent the best part of this warm, sunny, day on which we would have preferred anything but, driving to Southampton General Hospital and back for me to experience the surprising discomfort despite the friendly, efficient attention of staff, of CT Scans of my bladder region prior to a cystoscopy next Saturday. Because I am still not in any pain this feels like precautionary checks.

On our return we chatted with Becky and Ian who had stayed over until early evening when they left for their own home in Southbourne.

Later in the evening we dined on the other half of Jackie’s beef and mushroom pie from two day’s ago, with freshly cooked boiled new potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli.

A Birthday Bunch

It being Jackie’s birthday today I collected a few photographs In the cool, diffused, early light.

At 5 a.m. the direct sun only reached the front garden.

For diffusion I chose a random walk around the back. Each image bears a title in the gallery.

This afternoon Helen visited bearing gifts; she was soon joined by Becky and Ian on the same errand, who accompanied Jackie and me later to dine at Rokali’s where they were as impressed as we are. My main meal was Naga Chilli lamb and special rice. We shared onion bahjis, and puris. Ian and I drank Kingfisher; Becky and Jackie drank Diet Coke.

Before going out we enjoyed a Messenger Video chat with Flo and Ellie, which was great fun.