blackbird – Page 2 – derrickjknight

A Conundrum 2

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We took it easy today. Prompted by today’s post from thebikinggardener I wandered around the garden to see how our Hellebores are doing.

Some way behind Geoff’s, ours are coming through.

Many primulas have so far survived the winter.

The shattered bits of cherub Jackie found in the undergrowth a couple of years ago have gained a fine coating of moss.

The remnants of honesty, hollowing ovals on stems, blends well with the weeping birch bark.

The parent viburnum Bontantense and its two children are blooming well. One joins with a leycesteria in beginning to mask Aaron’s new fencing.

Alongside the winter flowering cherry

and beneath the crab apples, a blackbird dropped down for a change of diet.

This pieris takes my mind off the fact that the grass needs cutting.

A few youthful pink cheeks survive amid those ageing, wrinkly, and skeletal ones of this hydrangea.

Finally, the conundrum. Who has dragged a clutch of eggshells from the compost heap across the New Bed? Well, we did spot a rat, hands and nose pressed to the pane, peering, like Tiny Tim, through our window when we ate our Christmas dinner.

Just before 4.30 p.m., we dashed out to Barton on Sea to watch the sun sink into Christchurch Bay. I did not stage the photograph of the woman kicking it back up into the sky.

A while later we dined at Lal Quilla. My choice was lamb shatkora massala; Jackie’s prawn sallee. We shared an egg paratha, mushroom rice, and sag bahji; and both drank Kingfisher.

Mastering The Technique

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Well, I’m still struggling to upload photographs. James Peacock came this morning to get fibre optic broadband under way, but BT Open Reach had not taken the last step in installation. This appears to have been done late this afternoon so James will return tomorrow.

While James was wrestling with this, I chatted to a blackbird enjoying a brunch of crab apples. This one has now mastered the technique of chipping away at the fruit without knocking it to the ground. The bird no longer attempts to swallow the meal whole, but neither does it lose it like a toddler learning to use a fork. In fact it was very like a little person, in that bits of food tended to be plastered over its beak.

Our friends Margery and Paul came to lunch and we enjoyed our usual fun conversation well into the afternoon. Jackie made a delicious spinach soup which was followed by a plentiful salad with haloumi, ham, and pork and chicken pie. After that, ham sandwiches sufficed this evening.

Alfresco Dining

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There are still plenty enough crab apples on our trees to attract blackbirds daily. This morning I watched them eating. They are quite territorial over their meal table, tending to deter unwelcome guests. They prefer to approach the fruit on the higher branches. If they do not drop them onto the plants below, they are capable of swallowing them in one go.

Later this afternoon, diverting to observe the beach huts burnished by sunset over Friars Cliff, we drove to Curry’s/PC World at Christchurch for some Christmas shopping.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla in Lymington. My choice was Purple Tiger (tiger prawns and aubergine) and Jackie chose Harayali chicken (not sure if I’ve spelled it correctly, but it is spinach based). We shared mushroom rice, tarka dal, and a paratha; and both drank Kingfisher.

Watching

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Today was pretty murky. This morning, through the window I watched blackbirds feeding on crab apples. They generally dropped the fruit onto the ground, flew down and ate them where they fell.

This afternoon and early evening was spent watching rugby on T.V.

First came Scotland (in striped shirts) v. Georgia (in red).

Wales (in red) v. South Africa (in green) was to follow.

Finally we had England (in dark blue) v. Argentina (in blue and white stripes).

Any text would be in danger of spoiling. That lets me of the hook.

Jackie collected a takeaway meal from The Raj in Old Milton for ou evening meal. She drank Hoegaarden whilst I drank Reserve des Tuguets Madiran 2014. My main meal was naga prawn with special fried rice; we shared poppadoms, pooris, paratha, and sag bahji.

The Colour Wheel

More clearing up of clippings was required this morning. On my way through the garden, I had a chat with our friendly baby blackbird. Since its father no longer, from a safe distance, follows it around he must have decided this little creature, who has known us all its brief life, can fend for itself.

The cocked head indicates a listening ear.

For Your Eyes Only, Rose of the Year 2015, has its first bloom.

According to basic colour theory, analogous colours are any three which are side by side on a 12 part colour wheel, such as yellow-green, yellow, and yellow-orange. Usually one of the three shades predominates. Complementary colours are any two which are directly opposite each other, such as red and green and red-purple and yellow-green.

I think this tiny yellow-green cricket, distinguishable from it’s grasshopper relative by the length of its pearly antennae, must have been studying this, as it perched on a red dahlia with violet-tinged petals, and yellow, orange-shaded stamens. Analogous or complimentary? Food for thought.

I became quite excited when I noticed an exotic new butterfly resting on a pink hydrangea.

It proved to be a fallen rose petal.

Margery and Paul came for a visit this afternoon. As always, we had enjoyable conversation, then made a tour of the garden. Our friends were suitably appreciative of the changes made during the last year.

Jackie and I dined this evening on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, Garner’s pickled onions, and Freshona gherkins. My lady drank Hoegaarden, and I abstained.

Come Along With Me

A north wind gusting at 25+ m.p.h. took the heat out of a gloriously sunny morning. Early on there was a distinct, or should I say, indistinct, flurry of activity around the bird table, particularly as the parent starlings were feeding themselves for a change. These shots were taken through the window because I didn’t want to startle them.

The ring-necked dove had to wait its turn,

and spent some time admiring the poppy.

A blackbird preferred to contemplate the possibility of a frog for breakfast.

Now, it is all very well for me to introduce you to close-ups of our many garden plants, such as

this newly flowering rhododendron,

or this delicate iris

but that does not give much go an idea of what it is like to amble along our reclaimed paths. So, come along with me, down

The Head Gardener’s Path, which did not exist last year;

The Shady Path, so named because it was then completely devoid of sunshine,

and which, round the bend, leads to the chimney pot at Fiveways, where five paths merge.

This side path links The Shady Path with

The Pergola Path.

The other main thoroughfare is the Agriframes Arch Path.

Anyone who followed last year’s labours will know that there are more routes in the tour, which will be resumed in a day or two. The numerous solar lights in evidence illuminate a veritable fairyland at night.

After this I took a short walk up Hordle Lane where

blackberry blossom blooms,

and buttercups ramble among ragged robins.

We had two brief shopping trips, either side of ‘Bargain Hunt’. The first was to the pharmacy in Milford to collect a prescription; the second to Ferndene Farm Shop for three bags of compost and, of course, while we were there, half a dozen verbena plants. I am assured that we needed them, and who am I to argue?

This evening’s dinner comprised a pork rib rack marinaded in barbecue sauce; roasted peppers and onions, boiled rice, and green beans.(I refuse to use the abbreviated abomination BBQ, but you can tell it is getting to me when you know I almost typed barbeque). I drank more of the cabernet sauvignon, and Jackie drank Hoegaarden.

A Game Of Peep-Bo

As I put out the bin bags at dawn this morning, the smoking fire further East down Christchurch Road revealed itself to be a blazing sun emerging to presage the splendid day we were to enjoy.

A little later, a crouching figure was seen to dart across to my desk and scamper back again. This was Flo, having risen surprisingly early to commandeer my camera for the next hour or so.

She must have got the bug yesterday for she was to produce some even more successful pictures of our garden birds.

Here is a selection of her work:

A thrush on the rooftop projected its shadow into the ether. How this shot was achieved will be revealed tomorrow, for the benefit of those who haven’t worked it out.

She captured house sparrows, both female

and male.

The collared dove had found a new perch.

Flo interrupted a jay’s breakfast, but it carried on regardless.

A female greenfinch continued with hers

while her consort launched himself from the feeder.

A blackbird ignored the spider’s web beneath it.

Starlings are notoriously greedy beasts. Alone they must wait their turn at the trough.

An inquisitive robin removed its head from the feeder, straightened up, and engaged in a game of peep-bo.

Finally a jackdaw snaffled two peanuts

and, of course, flew off at the sight of the camera.

When the Canon SX700 HS was returned to me I took a hobble down the garden and a few yards into Downton Lane.

Our honesty is now in flower,

as is the epimedium

and the skimmia at the entrance to the back drive.

The lane itself has a profusion of

primroses,

celandines,

cowslips,

daisies,

and grape hyacinths.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb chicken jalfrezi (recipe), boiled egg curry, egg fried rice (recipe), and paratas. Jackie, Ian, and I drank Kingfisher; Becky drank rose; and Flo, J2O.

Yellow Ticket

The storm, having filled the deepest ditches, and extended the pools on the fields and the roads, had desisted this morning when we began the day with a shopping trip to Tesco. This supermarket, like all the other home-grown ones, is feeling the squeeze from the Germans, Lidl and Aldi. There were notices everywhere announcing cheaper brands.

By midday the dull weather had evaporated into clear blue sunlit skies. After lunch I walked up Hordle Lane, right into Sky End Lane, left into Vicarage Lane, and left again, returning home back along Hordle Lane. I was lucky, for the rain set in soon afterwards.

Discarded detritus now floated in ochre waters of the ditches which I photographed with my back to the warming sun.

Pools glinted on the lanes and reflected the trees and skies above. A jogger ran past the paddock in which the ponies chomped on their fodder. Later he returned in the opposite direction, possibly eventually passing a woman and her exotic looking dog glowing in the sunlight, and casting long shadows.

Some vehicles sped through the pools on the tarmac, sending up showers of water; others slowed and sprayed a little.

On Vicarage Lane, which enjoyed numerous reflective puddles, I engaged in conversation with a friendly woman tending her garden. She had noticed me attempting to photograph small birds in her trees. We didn’t know what they were, but they were attracted by nuts she had hung up for her visiting tits, siskins, and a solitary woodpecker.

Blackbirds scurried in the hedgerows.

At the corner of Vicarage and Hordle Lanes, lies the Parish Church of All Saints, Hordle. Shafts of gleaming sunlight illuminated the sleepy resting place of former parishioners.

Jackie’s matured liver and bacon casserole was enhanced by the discrete taste of fresh mushrooms and peppers for tonight’s dinner. They were accompanied by prime mashed potato, and crisp cabbage, carrots and cauliflower, then followed by Tesco’s finest Belgian chocolate choux buns. Our dessert was purchased this morning at half price. Such is the UK’s obsession with ‘best before’, ‘use by’, and ‘sell by’ dates, that supermarkets cannot sell goods beyond whichever of these phrases appears the most relevant. Neither, for fear of lawsuits for food poisoning, are they able to give them away. They therefore do the next best thing and reduce the price. Our buns bore the legend ‘use by’ today. Had we purchased them later in the day, they would probably have been even cheaper. In this particular outlet you can recognise reduced items by their yellow ticket.

We each drank the same beverage as yesterday.

Decorating Day 2

For some reason best known to themselves Flo and her family take a perverse delight in occupying my chair on their visits. This reached its pinnacle on March 31st 2013. On that occasion Matthew’s Oddie joined in on the act. He was often the sole occupant but the post ‘Whose Chair Is It Anyway’ describes how this did give him logistical problems. When I came downstairs this morning I found that the chair had been festooned with decorations. Since our granddaughter goes to bed much later than we do, there can only have been one culprit.
I reversed my Hordle Cliff top walk this morning. In Shorefield Country Park, where the tilt of trees adjacent to the footpath to the sea demonstrated their vulnerability to the ocean breezes, blackbirds scurried in the hedges and foraged on the lawns.
A lone kite surfer sped skimming over the surface of The Solent, the horizon of which bore a silver lining.
On Downton Lane the MacDonald’s balloon had floated under the bridge and become snagged further along the stream. A few feeble blackberries in the hedgerows were continuing their attempt to ripen.
Decorating the house continued throughout the day. By the evening my study area, through the arch in which could be seen the Christmas tree in the sitting room, was looking quite festive. The colour combination of Flo’s leaves and the warming pan was particularly inspired.
The kitchen carried its own bunting, and also benefited from the lighting on the wisteria arbour outside.
Further projects will not be fully ready for publication until tomorrow.
This evening we dined on the rest of the plentiful Happy Wok meal. Jackie drank Stella, Flo chose water, and I began a splendid bottle of Reserve des Tuguets Madiran 2010.

Owling With Attitude

The blackbird still sits on her nest. Peering through shrubs at a safe distance, sometimes her bright little eyes are visible to the viewer, sometimes her upturned tail.

Today’s task for me was to clear one bed of brambles and other unwelcome growth. Simple enough for a day’s work. I thought. In fact the wild blackberry bushes were the least of my problems.
As I began to feel my way into the undergrowth I came across a number of previously unseen plants. One was a heavily-budded passion flower which had become entwined in a hebe, and, of course brambles. The necessary disentanglement was a most delicate operation. Having carried out the surgery I gave it a leg-up by means of netting attached to a metal post set in concrete that Jackie had found elsewhere in the garden. Another such climber had clung to the weeping branches of the birch tree, but had many stems trailing in and out of the bed grasping at anything in its path. Further similar treatment was required. This time the netting was strung between two wooden stakes.
Two types of tree that are abundantly self-seeded in this garden are hawthorn and bay. There was one of each in this bed, their roots, as always, taking shelter among those of other plants; in this case the weeping birch and some lilies that have not yet flowered.

I had no chance of reaching them unless I removed the wooden bed head nailed to the tree. No doubt this once had a decorative purpose of sorts. I couldn’t prise it off. Once the rust had been scoured off the nailhead it turned out to be a screw, so dilapidated as to be bereft of a slot. I tried to make one with the trusty hacksaw. I couldn’t get it deep enough.
Then along came Superwoman, who saw that if we removed the rickety slats and the other end, we could leave the post where it was. D’oh!
That is what we did. I dug out the offending trees and replaced the rest of the bed head. Two of the joints had by now disintegrated, so nails will have to be used, when I have bought some of sufficient length. In order that it does have a decorative function, I optimistically fed a passion flower stem through the secure bit.
Jackie speaks of the June gap, which is that unproductive time between the finishing of the spring flowers and before the arrival of those of the summer. The planting here has been so well planned that there is no such hiatus.

I took a break after lunch and photographed water lily, philadelphus, roses, petunias, diasca, pelargonium, begonia, poppies, verbascum, rodgersia, and clematises which are just a few of those we currently have flowering.

Our blackbird is still awaiting the emergence of her chicks. Not so the owl in my friend Hari’s tree. Her two are about three weeks old, and able to reach the ground, but do need to be returned to their Mum. If I am able to photograph our fledglings I am confident that my pictures would not be as striking as the one Hari e-mailed me today. She believes the creature was displaying a mind of its own when it stared back at its rescuer. I rather like her term for a baby owl, especially one with attitude, which has provided today’s title.
This evening’s meal was Jackie’s beef and mushroom pie with mashed carrots, swede, and potatoes; and crisp cauliflower and broccoli. Tiramisu ice cream was to follow. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the tempranillo.
If you have a shop that can sell you ready prepared pastry and have saved enough beef casserole (recipe) you, too could make the pie. Simply drain off the sauce from the casserole and use it as gravy; roll out the pastry, insert the filling into it, and bake it in the oven for about half an hour on 200. The chef, when pressed for her timing, said: ‘Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t time it, I just stood and looked at it until it was the right brownness’. I don’t expect she did this for the whole time, but I think that gives you the idea.