Ramblings
This morning I cut the grass and produced a few photographs.
Individual titles appear on the galleries.
This afternoon I almost finished reading Point Counter Point by Aldous Huxley which I will feature tomorrow.
Tonight’s dinner consisted of sag bhaji and mild prawn curry starter from Forest Tandoori followed by the main event in the form of Jackie’s spicy lamb jalfrezi and aromatic pilau rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Shiraz.
This morning’s early light presented us with
glorious garden views from our upstairs windows.
At midday I accompanied Jackie on the big Tesco fortnightly shop; sat reading in the car while she did the business; unloaded the trolley into the car; emptied the purchases into the kitchen, then washed my hands.
This afternoon Jackie took the sprinkler on a whistle-stop tour of the garden, while I took my camera on another.
I pictured begonias, petunias, allium, hemerocallis, phantom hydrangea and phlox, all images of which are named in the galleries that can by accessed by clicking on any one. Each photograph can be viewed full size by clicking on the box beneath it, then further enlarged if necessary by repeated clicks.
Bees have shown themselves to be partial to these alliums.
Outside Bramshaw, on a drive to the north of the forest, we encountered ponies ignoring flies; sheep steering clear of the equine droppings; and donkeys keen to approach us in the hope of treats.
It was the Lamb Inn at Nomansland that had the honour of providing us with our first meal out since the recently partially relaxed coronavirus lockdown began.
My main meal was a tender rib eye steak with a bucket of chips and French fried onions; Jackie’s chips in a bucket were of sweet potatoes served with her haloumi burger. Mrs Knight drank Diet Coke and Carlsberg while I drank Timothy Taylor’s Landlord beer.
Naturally Jackie photographed the hanging baskets and
the sign in the outside dining area which had me wondering whether I was meant to use the letter box.
I am close to deciding on my final cut for the Everton Festival Photographic Competition. Many painful decisions are being made now, concerning which shots to leave out.
In order seriously to consider the deer having her nose scratched I have converted this image to Black and White, thus giving a sharper silhouette. This is, incidentally, quite a small crop from the original picture. Does anyone have an opinion?
Jackie has been working very hard all this week on planting and replenishment of soil.
Here she tidies what she has achieved against the kitchen wall;
this side of the patio, all of which has been repotted, leads through the Dead End Path,
Earlier plantings include this allium in the Palm Bed and clematis climbing the Wedding Day (formerly Agriframes) arch.
While I think of it, I have been calling the clematis wandering up the wisteria arbour Niobe; we now think it should be named Star of India.
It faces the bright red Chiliean Lantern tree.
Rose Altissimo stands sentinel between Elizabeth’s Bed and the
Rose Garden where Laura Ford’s yellow pigment splashes onto the heuchera border, and
Special Anniversary
nods to the numerous gloves the foxes have scattered therein.
Creamy yellow Summer Time makes its bid to support the peeling old shed;
Jacqueline du Pré plays on;
and the deep pink climber Elizabeth rediscovered races Roserie de la Haie to the skies.
The Weeping Birch Bed bursts with burgeoning blooms.
This evening we dined on chicken breasts roasted in sweet chilli sauce; creamy mashed potatoes; and ratatouille with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Garnacha Syrah.
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.
This morning Shelly and Ron visited with more presents for Jackie. We sat talking on the patio before conducting the obligatory garden tour.
The poplar, of which I featured a close-up yesterday, made a pleasing back drop to our conversation.
Also yesterday I photographed Just Joey before he had come into his full splendour, which he had done today.
Quite nearby, Flower Power, finally released from the being the Big Beast’s convenience, is demonstrating its vigour for the first time.
Shelly bent to experience the full fragrance of stripy Rosa Gallica,
sharing it’s bed with the glowing Laura Ford;
and, later, looked aloft to admire the budding Wedding Day smothering the Agriframes Arch.
Finally, Jackie proudly showed her sister that the spindly little allium she had last year transplanted from beneath a prised-up brick in the path had, emulating Hans Christian Andersen’s Ugly Duckling, developed into a beautiful swan-necked crane.
After a routine tidying session, we took a trip to Molly’s Den. Jackie has hankered for a couple of stone window boxes with which to replace the plastic ones that sat on the stone wall at the front of the house, except when they were blown down. She suggested that would be what she would like for her birthday. We began at that antiques emporium.
These two stood immediately inside the doorway. Obviously we bought them.
But, really! Two stone troughs for a birthday present! That had only ever been subterfuge on my part. While the Head Gardener went looking to make sure they were no better ones among the many other displays, I searched for something that would be a bit more of a surprise.
This vast, hangar-like, warehouse is separated into cubicles and smaller display cabinets linked by gangways like this one.
There’s not much you can’t find here; retro and vintage clothing;
furniture and furnishings;
garden tools and kitchenalia;
baskets and kettles;
bridal accoutrements;
and a rocking chair.
Now, in situ, underneath the wisteria arbour, isn’t that a more suitable present?
Needless to say, it was essential that the window boxes be potted up post haste.
This evening we joined Becky and Ian at the Crown Inn at Everton for a birthday dinner. The food, the service, and the ambience were all excellent. I enjoyed well-filled steak and kidney pudding, crisp chips, and perfectly cooked fine slivers of broccoli and carrots wrapped in a tender cabbage leaf, followed by unbelievably light and moist bread and butter pudding in creme anglaise. I drank a pint of Doom Bar followed by a glass of Delcoeur vin de l;Herault. Should any of the other three feel inclined to report on their meal, I invite them to do so in a comment.
Jackie was given a joint present from Becky, Ian, Mat, and Tess, in the form of a quite magnificent owl. I will photograph this bird when it has been placed in the garden.
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.
Jackie continues weeding, clipping, planting, and replenishing soil. This involves a certain amount of popping out to a garden centre. Today, for example, she departed for some lime and returned with, in addition, a garden tray, a parasol, and the obligatory few plants. Here she was working away on the Dragon Bed near the house end of the Brick Path a couple of days ago.
Here is a current view of the Wisteria Arbour where, accompanying the eponymous plant, can be seen a red rose and Carnaby and Star of India clematises; with bronze fennel, cerinthes and Sweet Williams in the foreground bed.
From the corner of the patio the view across the Kitchen Bed contains the white clematis Marie Boisselot reflected by libertia; alliums, pansies, and diascias bringing notes of purple and pink; and russet triangle points made up of the recently pruned maple, the distant copper beech, and the now fully blooming
Chilean Lantern tree.
Rose Peach Abundance soars over the Oval Bed,
as does Altissimo beside the potting shed.
Mum in a million,
Crown Princess Margareta,
and Schoolgirl are all flourishing in the Rose Garden
where Festive Jewel
leads the eye through For Your Eyes Only to Gloriana, with Love Knot to the left;
and a small hoverfly investigates Summer Wine peeping from its rack on the entrance arch.
The Head Gardener is wondering whether the splendid, flouncing, heucheras are now putting the roses in the shade.
My primary function has been to explore all paths and corners of the garden seeking out heaps of weeds and clippings and either chopping them up to fill the orange bags, or dumping them on the fast developing compost piles.
These contributions can crop up anywhere, especially, it seems, when I think I have finished.
This was just the first wheelbarrow load today.
Pushing it happily along the Brick Path, I discovered the next two loads. It is fun being the Head Gardener’s Hod Carrier.
Fortunately, Jackie had produced enough of her marvellous lamb jalfrezi meal yesterday for it to be reprised this evening. As usual, this offered some enhancement. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, leaving the Kingfisher to me.
AS USUAL, IMAGES MAY BE ENLARGED BY CLICKING ON THEM. REPEAT IF NECESSARY.
Given to me by Barrie earlier in the year, Neil Grant’s book ‘Village London Past & Present’, which I just finished reading, was a perfect adjunct to David Lawrence’s ‘Bright Open Spaces’.
The author’s style is both informative and entertaining, and the book is lavishly illustrated with photographs from the past and what was, to Mr Grant when published, the present. Much is made of the pace of change at a time when the Millennium Dome and the London Eye were both buildings of the future. Indeed, when studying photographs labelled ‘today’ in 1991, I found myself asking questions. Even my own ‘Streets of London’ series begun in 2004 is now history.
100 years ago, the metropolis was indeed a series of villages, and residences of, say Wimbledon or Dulwich cling to that term today. It is hard to believe that the un-idyllic Camberwell once harboured an eponymous beauty in the form of a butterfly.
Having lived and worked in various of London’s villages for most of my life, I am familiar with most of the book’s coverage. I have chosen just one area of the capital to illustrate this post and outline my connections.
Let me begin with 1966, the year when, as an Assistant Child Care Officer, I entered Social Work. My post ‘An Attachment To The Gates’ tells of what I did to the gates of Kingston’s Guildhall. For a good laugh, it is to be highly recommended.
An important town in the Middle Ages, Kingston has probably the oldest continuing market in the country. It was in August 1972 that Jackie and her friend Linda set up a stall in this market, displaying their own hand-crafted goods. I encouraged my work colleagues to admire the contents.
Sometime later in the 1970s, Matthew was seriously into fishing. It is perhaps possible that it was somewhere near this bank of the Thames, seen in about 1890, that I accompanied him on such an outing. I was somewhat relieved that we didn’t catch anything.
Kingston was also where we carried out most of our mudlarking.
Today’s heavy rain had desisted by mid-afternoon revealing
a humble white allium paying obeisance to a weigela;
bejewelled Jacqueline du Pre;
sparkling Absolutely Fabulous;
fungus breaking out on the dead tree root;
the dianthus Sweet William;
and clematis Doctor Ruppel.
Anyone having read last year’s posts may be aware of a slight difference of opinion between The Head Gardener and her serf about the wisdom of welcoming cow parsley into our garden. This year Jackie has reinforcements. Apparently these plants are now in fashion. Naturally I now offer not even token resistance.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s choice chicken jafrezi, mushroom rice, and parathas. She drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Llidl’s Bordeaux superieur 2011.
Today we toted five more canvas bags of tree cuttings to Efford Recycling Centre.
The Head Gardener was prevailed upon to bear the strain of this one as we tipped the contents into the vast container, thus allowing The Photographer to carry out his primary role.
This time we returned with a stout wooden table suitable for the garden. I understand it was there yesterday, but it was asking too much for Jackie to pass it up two days running.
After our last trip this afternoon, I attempted to make a phone call. My mobile seemed to be dead. Eventually I managed to get something onto the screen, but it was scribble. An urgent trip to Lymington’s Carphone Warehouse was in order. Two very helpful young men were staffing the shop. The immediate diagnosis was that the screen was cracked. This meant the phone could not relay information from the works. We decided upon a new instrument which would require a new contract. All went swimmingly until I was asked for my bank account number. I didn’t have it. Jackie, who had taken refuge in Costa’s for coffee and cake, had to down both in a hurry and get me home and back in the 25 minutes available before the shop closed. She made the twelve mile round trip in 20 minutes. I took out my new contract and received replacement phone.
All my contacts are lost, and I must ring O2 tomorrow to have my number transferred to the new SIM card. As its seems likely that I cracked the phone in my pocket whilst humping the bags of cuttings, Jackie brightly asked me exactly how much her dump table had cost. I’m a little calmer now than I was then.
I received a rather good surprise from The First Gallery this morning. The April exhibition, for which I had submitted the albums on the making of the garden, thinking that they would be supplementary to the main performance, is now to be focussed on our garden with painters and sculptors providing additional material. Between trips to the dump and the later thrills, I trawled my collection to gather together more photographs for prints of varying sizes. Here are a few:
View from the kitchen garden as it was on 26th July 2014;
Virginia creeper, calibrachoa and fuchsia 30th September 2015;
allium;
Mum negotiating Phantom Path 6th July 2014;
Small White butterfly on verbena bonarensis 29th September 2015;
and chair and bedhead on Weeping Birch Bed 12th March 2015.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb sausage casserole, mashed potato, and crisp cauliflower, carrots, and broccoli. Se drank sparkling water and I drank Via di Cavallo chianti 2014.
On another unseasonably mild day, I wandered around the garden with my camera, picking
allium,
daffodil,
camellias,
viburnum rhytidophyllum,
periwinkle,
and bergenia.
This afternoon we drove through the forest to Burley. On the way we stopped at a New Forest car park for a short walk with Scooby.
Ponies always gather round the parked cars because there is always a reasonable chance of hands offering titbits on the ends of arms extended from open windows. So it was today, until a family turned the tables and advanced on the ponies in great excitement.
It wasn’t long before the animals turned tail,
only to return to their habitual patch of heathland when the coast was clear.
A track, up which various walkers clambered, led down to a valley below.
Still an hour away from sunset, we were treated to some interesting skyscapes.
It was not yet 4.00 p.m. by the time we arrived in Burley, but the targeted tea rooms were closed. We therefore sought refreshment in the Burley Inn. Mine was a pint of Flack’s Double Drop.
Still not 5.00 p.m., we returned home in the dark. As we left the village and entered the less than broad, unlit roads across the forest, a stream of traffic approaching on our right, Jackie hit the brakes. Out of the dark, a black and grey pony appeared, in the Modus’s dipped headlights, ambling straight towards me on the passenger side. My chauffeuse barely had room to swerve around the beast to slip between that and the oncoming traffic.
Becky, two cars behind, was treated to a similar experience. This was our closest encounter yet.
This evening, Jackie, for our dinner, produced tender roast lamb, roast parsnips, Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, perfect carrots and Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower cheese. Apple crumble would have followed had anyone left enough room for it. Becky and Ian drank rose and I finished the El Sotillo.
Jackie and I spent the morning on an enforced feat of forestry. With the head gardener’s advice, guidance, and assistance I sawed off a myrtle branch that had been twisted by the gales, and then performed an autopsy on the snake bark maple. This latter tree has, sadly, died. We performed emergency amputations last autumn, but it failed to recover. I therefore cut down the highest branches, leaving the skeleton as a frame for climbing plants yet to be determined. I protected my left hand with a padded cycling glove purchased by Jackie in the lucky dip that is Lidl’s central aisle. With a certain amount of trepidation I teetered on the step ladders made stable with a wedge or two. It is amazing how hard this dead wood was to cut through.
The thinner limbs I chopped into combustible sections for the next bonfire. This afternoon I sawed up the thicker ones for our wood burner pile, and Jackie continued with her creative planting. After a few yards amble down the lane, I called it a day.
In the lane, a bee flitted from dandelion to dandelion as I tracked it, eventually catching it.
Wherever you look in the garden, a wide variety of alliums is to be found.
On the back drive, we are hoping recently planted antique parchment pigmented irises will thrive, thus emulating
the rather more strident valerians and wallflowers.
The Chilean lantern tree is a-whirr with leg-loaded worker bees.
How many can you spot in this shot?
And in this one? Clicking on the images will help.
This evening we dined on tangy smoked cod, creamy mashed potatoes, piquant cauliflower cheese, firm sweetcorn and peas, and crunchy carrots. We both drank Heritage de Calvet white cotes du Rhone 2014, and a good accompaniment it was.
Queuing to get on the blog this morning were:
This pink rambler that has come through the recent rains somewhat scathed;
the clematis Marie Boisselot;
more alliums, one with a sentinel spider, less than usually reluctant to be noticed. Click to spot it.
By popular request I have returned to the Streets of London Series. I scanned another dozen from April 2004, of which I offer:
Firstly Church Path, NW10, in the London Borough of Brent. St Mary’s Church, dating from 938, has featured in a number of posts, such as that of 15th February 2013, when I found its grounds ‘Surprisingly Picturesque’.
A younger, rather more splendid, church is Saint Pancras Parish Church on Euston Road, NW1. Its website describes what I have photographed, thus:
‘The church is a prominent landmark. Built by public subscription in 1818-22, it replaced the derelict Old St Pancras as Parish Church. Old St Pancras was rebuilt in Victorian times as one of the 17 subdivisions of the Ancient Parish of St Pancras. St Pancras Euston Road is Grade 1listed as a fine example of the Greek Revival style. Its external features, based on temples in ancient Athens, include an octagonal spire and an impressive front portico with 6 huge columns. On either side at the rear are our famous caryatids – statues of Greek women supporting the porches over the two entrances to the crypt. Traditional iron railings enclose the churchyard, where the annual parish picnic and other celebrations are held on the lawns.’
Midland Road NW1, was still closed at the time of the London bombings of 7th July 2005, my 63rd birthday. The whole of Euston Road, and many of the side streets around were cordoned off, and people were pouring out of the underground system, as I took my normal walk from Beauchamp Lodge in Little Venice to North Road, a mile or so behind Kings Cross station. Midland Road is now incorporated into the development area around that station. On the morning of the bombs, oblivious of what was happening, on a forced pedestrian diversion, I came across an assembled swarm of many hundreds of men in the yellow hard hats shown in this picture.
The building against which the construction workers are leaning is the British Library, at 96 Euston Road. Opened in June 1998, its Brutalist architecture, designed by Colin St John Wilson, can be seen to better effect from Ossulston Street, NW1.
The proprietors of M.S.Tyres on the corner of Roundwood Road NW10 find it necessary to batten down the hatches against the ubiquitous graffiti that decorates this area of North London. At least the windows are protected.
It doesn’t matter where you are in our capital city, it is very risky to leave your bicycle unattended. Virtually outside Baker Street tube station leans an example of the skeletal remains that litter many of our streets.
Either from familiarity with my presence, or from a desperation to feed its brood, I was able this afternoon successfully to stalk the parent starling squatting behind our kitchen facia board.. The bird, carrying sustenance, now lands on our roof, a speculative distance from the hidden nest; gingerly makes its way along the eaves; stands on the corner fidgeting and uttering sharp cries, either of warning or encouragement; then drops down and makes a dash for safety.
Watching the poor creature dithering, popping its head down, lifting it up for a quick shufti, and eventually taking the plunge, was fascinating.
The skies were overcast today, but, it seeming to be the season for awards, the sun popped into my e-mails. I have now been nominated for:
Thank you very much, rameshwarir at https://rameshwarir.wordpress.com/page/2/ for nominating me.
You have asked me these rather profound questions, which I answer as follows:
In no particular order, my nominees for the award are:
MaxReynolds: Sunrise, Sunset And Other Visions
I will not set you specific questions, but simply invite you to tell us something about yourself as you wish.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s scrumptious chicken jalfrezi with pilau rice topped off by an omelette. Kingfisher was our chosen beverage.