bronze fennel – derrickjknight

Do Not Climb

This morning, while the Head Gardener continued her autumn clearances, I followed in her wake, collecting, chopping, and composting clippings. The exercise was most delightful when focussed on the Pond Bed, savouring the liquorice flavour released from the statuesque bronze fennel and listening to the tinkling trickle of the water feature. Small birds are beginning to tweet again; pigeons continually exchange melodic love-notes; a biplane droned overhead. Tramping over crunching gravel on the back drive was less harmonious.

The bronze fennel is a very prolific self-seeder, so after lunch I cut down and composted much more of it. The pelargoniums in the second picture are in a hanging basket, which is why they stand above the much taller plant. The bed still contains

other pelargoniums, dahlias, and chrysanthemums.

Nearby, in the Wisteria Bed, these pink roses are blooming again.

Keeping with the pink, we have fuchsias Display and Garden News.

Super Elfin, red, Penny Lane, white roses, and clematis Dr Ruppel still scale the Gothic arch.

Fortunately these everlasting sweet peas are almost finished for this year, because many of the stems were bound to the fennel I removed from the Weeping Birch Bed.

More dahlias thrive in the New Bed.

It is now the larger Cabbage White butterflies that have taken the place of the Small Whites on the verbena bonariensis.

Paul Clarke dropped in for a pleasant chat and to return borrowed books while driving a sleeping Margery back from Bournemouth this afternoon.

Later, we took a drive into the forest, where Jackie visited Hockey’s Farm Shop, while

I photographed an old farm cart that isn’t going anywhere.

The stream at Ogdens North is now dry enough for me to step across quite easily. The pony in the last two of these pictures was so keen to make my acquaintance that I had to back away sharply to photograph the persistent creature which abandoned my face for he sparse grass underfoot.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty liver and bacon casserole; al dente carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli; with tender runner beans. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Calvet Prestige Bordeaux 2018.

Raindrops And Humidity

This drizzle-wet morning gave way to the hot, humid-wet afternoon on which I carried out a dead-heading exercise.

For those worried about our robin family, Jackie’s internet research has revealed that in summer the missing small birds abandon gardens for woods where a plethora of readily attainable food abounds. They can be expected to return when it takes less effort to follow gardeners around than to forage the fields and forest.

In the meantime we have butterflies like the Small Whites that sup from the verbena bonariensis.

The still bejewelled Deep Secret; the apricot Mamma Mia; and red Love Knot are examples of the Rose Garden Roses, while

along the Shady Path the red climber also retains raindrops.

Yellow rudbeckia Goldsturm and rich red crocosmia Lucifer grace the Palm Bed;

an intriguing gladiolus whose label has been eaten by slugs is propped up in the Oval Bed;

Yellow kniphofias need no support in the Cryptomeria Bed;

in other locations we have more lilies;

bronze fennel and sweet peas,

Japanese anemones and pelargoniums,

and dazzling dahlias.

Later this afternoon I made a minor contribution to Jackie’s extensive watering project. One lesson I have had to learn is that water from the skies does not reach plants in pots.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s cheese-topped classic cottage pie, carrots, and mange touts with tasty beef gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Rioja.

Redundant

The Head Gardener has renamed what I have been calling the Kitchen Bed because it runs alongside that room. It has become

the Pond Bed because it sprawls across a sunken pond filled in by our predecessors. At the western corner stands the frog pond created from an old cistern; at the eastern end

the Waterboy fountain. The Waterboy was found in bits in the undergrowth at the far end of the garden. Now he provides drinking water for thirsty birds, and a backdrop for

diurnal poppies.

Some of the bronze fennel in the first picture is flanked by the now ubiquitous Erigeron.

The Head Gardener, during her husbandry today, produced all the photographs in this post. We have images of

camassia,

bluebells;

a hyacinth,

lithodora,

and clematis of similar hue.

Blue solanum spreads over this arch spanning the Brick Path.

heuchera leaves,

aquilegias or columbines,

and rhododendrons, in various shades of red.

Tulips, especially

Queen of the Night, continue to attract.

Honesty and a New Zealand flax

can be seen sharing a berth beyond the Weeping Birch Bed.

Daffodils,

including those named after a Pheasant’s Eye, continue happily to bloom,

as do the various colours of cyclamen.

Orange Flash marigolds accompany lilac diasica.

Comfrey and

geraniums hang well together.

This hydrangea now spins a fine web.

Spirea Pink Ice has responded well to nurturing,

as have all the pelargonium cuttings in the greenhouse.

Just how much food can this rapacious blackbird carry off?

While Jackie was tidying the pots on the decking she was aware of Nugget’s presence, but not sure where he was.

She therefore moved a container exposing a collection of luscious worms.

It took her robin familiar about twenty seconds to alight. “Where’s Nugget?” (71)

and “Where’s Nugget?” (72). Bigification will probably be essential for these puzzles, but the second is rather easier.

Were it not for the fact that I carry out the task of uploading all these pictures and putting the post together with the explanatory text, I would probably be redundant by now.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy hot paprika pork, boiled potatoes, and broccoli, with which she drank Tsing Tao and I finished the Bordeaux.

The Oval Bed Today

The earlier third of the day was overcast but warm.

On my way through the garden to set out on a walk down

Downton Lane

I photographed several newly opened tulips,

one of which bore a sleepy bee.

Even 30 m.p.h. on our eponymous winding lane is probably too fast at any time, yet it seems necessary to reinforce the limit with plenty of notices along the way.

Prolific primroses,

golden dandelions,

dancing daffodils,

and buttery celandines bear out Susan Hill’s view of spring as ‘the yellow season’ expressed in ‘The Magic Apple Tree’.

Along with hardy white daisies

and rambling purple vinca, they decorate the burgeoning verges,

while bristling blackthorn

adorns the hedgerows.

A felled tree hosts ageing tree fungus.

The downward stretch of Downton Lane is a mostly manageable gently sloping descent.

I turned back at the steepest bend

and made my way home.

A pair of friendly cyclists, two abreast, had at least crossed to the other side as they passed me but I did wonder whether I should carry an estate agent’s snazzy measuring device to ensure a safe distance in these self-isolating times.

On 27th March Jackie had begun revamping the Oval Bed which she photographed.

Later this afternoon she produced images of her finished work.

She also photographed these leaves of crocosmia and day lilies,

and aroused bronze fennel setting off to soar above prize primroses and primulas.

This evening we dined on roasted sausages and new potatoes served on a bed of fried onions; a soft melange of cabbage and leeks; tender runner beans; and crunchy carrots with tasty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Benguela Bay Shiraz 2018.

Jackie’s having to add a little oil to the sausages because they held no fat reminded us of the gristly and cereal-filled apologies that had put us off bangers for life when we were young. Walls offerings were the anathema of our childhood. It was in France that I first experienced sausages with sufficient meat content.

Six Trains

This post by Linda at shoreacres, https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/32382/posts/2281944455 took me back this morning to my 1940s childhood.

Linda has eloquently described steam railways in America.

From 1947 to 1954 the magical – to us children at least – The Devon Belle steamed past our kitchen window in Raynes Park on its way from Waterloo station to the West Country. Details of the train and its history can be found in http://railway.g3w1.com/The_Devon_Belle/devon_belle.htm

I was intrigued to read that the author of this piece lived in Raynes Park until he was three and a half, and has memories similar to mine, although I was 5 years old in the inaugural year.

My entire childhood from the age of two in1944 to 1960 was spent in the maisonette at 29a Stanton Road, alongside which ran the railway path. The family ate in the kitchen where we could watch the trains. Chris and I would collect the numbers of those driven by electricity at any time during the day. But our favourite was https://youtu.be/XPpqD3GUmSA

This was, of course, because of the steam engines, but also the Pullman carriages which gave us something else to collect. Each of these first class cars bore a different name, usually of a woman.

When eating we were not expected to wolf down our food, leave the table, and get on with whatever else in which we had been engrossed. No, we had to wait for six trains to go by before we were permitted to “get down”.

When I open the back gate for Aaron on a Sunday morning this involves a walk down the gravelled back drive.

Beyond the gate on the south side we have a range of wallflowers and valerian;

on the opposite side there is currently a heap of the redundant griselina stumps, and more yellow wallflowers.

The dark patch of soil a bit further along, beside another stump and a spray of libertia, consists of spent compost from Jackie’s pots. This is being used to fill the holes left by the removal of the overgrown hedging.

Further still, a clump of Johnson’s Blue geraniums is found beside erigeron and bronze fennel.

This afternoon Jackie drove us into the forest for a brief journey before the rain set in.

Forest Road Burley was the venue for an equine mothers and babies group, only occasionally divided by the traffic with which they played havoc. Observant readers may spot the foal featured in ‘Aquatic Surface Cover’ of May 8th.

A young man with a video camera also stopped to film the scene. We enjoyed pleasant conversation.

For this evening’s dinner the Culinary Queen roasted duck breasts in plum sauce and served them with mushroom wild rice with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Carmenere.

P.S. Our friend Barrie Haynes has made this comment on my Facebook page: ‘Unfortunately, the Devon Belle was not a commercial success. The Observation Cars had to be turned on the locomotive turntable at Ilfracombe and the station was badly sited for the town. I believe the Pullman observation cars were later used in Scotland and I think at least one of them is still with us. Because there were no water troughs on the Southern, engines were normally changed at Wilton.’

“I’m Sure I Can’t Allow That”

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I dozed through the early parts of the day. At 4. p.m. Jackie set me up on Mum’s perching stool at a vantage point beside the bricked-in well, and I emerged, blinking, into strong sunlight to the sweet, sonorous, symphonies of vibrant birdsong.

While she continued to labour away in the sweltering heat, I perched and photographed what met my eye. When she caught me standing unaided and shifting the stool to give me a better angle down the Brick Path, she exclaimed: “I’m sure I can’t allow that.”

My choice of this evening’s ready prepared meals was suitably bland cod mornay with mashed potato and peas.

Umbrellas And Multi-Ocular Devices

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Early on this grey, overcast, morning, Jackie drove us to Lymington and back to buy a birthday present.

Upon leaving the house I decided I had not published enough photographs of the front garden. I therefore focussed on these lilies flanking bronze fennel flowers;

fuchsia Sir Matt Busby suspended over the front porch;

orange nasturtiums potted in front of the garage door;

a purple clematis soaring both them;

white solanum adorning the trellis;

lobelia and petunias cascading over a hanging basket;

and this pink and blue lace cap hydrangea spreading across the right hand corner.

It being market day in Lymington I hoped to have further fun with the camera. No sooner had we emerged from the shop, which must be nameless at the moment, and I brought out the camera, than the rain came down and umbrellas went up. Nevertheless, I persisted, and photographed

a rail of Summery women’s tops;

an abundance of bulbous green and golden melons;

glistening nectarines;

metal bowls of oleaginous olives;

loaves of rustic Mediterranean bread;

the stall of a gentleman demonstrating veg cutters the colour of which made up for a lack of oranges;

and decorative sandals, the display of which now seemed somewhat optimistic.

Here are some of the umbrellas,

not forgetting the lady who had forgotten hers.

Reading glasses may now be obtained without prescription, and are cheaply available on market stalls.

Jackie has collections all over the house and garden. Naturally she inspected these specs,

and bought £5’s worth of what Becky calls her mother’s multi-ocular devices. The idea is that wearing two pairs gives you twice the strength of magnification. Four is overdoing it a bit.

This afternoon I watched the women’s Wimbledon tennis final on TV.

For this evening’s dinner, Jackie produced steak and onion pie, new potatoes, crispy breaded mushrooms, crunchy carrots, and fresh spring greens. We had drunk respectively Hoegaarden and Banks’s Amber bitter on the patio beforehand. I had some of mine left over to drink with the meal. Jackie hadn’t. But then, her bottles are smaller than mine.

The Head Gardener’s Hod Carrier

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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.