Today I joined The Head Gardener in the continuation of the clearance of the Unidentified Fir Bed. This meant tackling it from the Phantom Path side. Once freed from the rampant, choking, vinca, shrubs such as hebes had to be cut down to compensate for the legginess that had developed. The unnamed tree itself now revealed the base of its trunk for the first time.
In order to promote healthier growth, Jackie cut back a splendid ornamental grass, some of which has been placed in the vase which is an old chimney pot.
Opening out a bed to this extent is quite scary. It is our intention to retain a sense of surprise each time one turns a corner in our garden. This means it would be best not to be able to see right through certain beds to whatever lies beyond. It is an act of faith that, after regrowth and new planting, The Unidentified Fir Bed will regain its height.
The recent rains have given some of the rose blooms such as
this Love Knot,
or Mamma Mia, a motley appearance.
Schoolgirl, however, retains the bejewelled freshness of youth.
This afternoon we left the garden to its own devices and drove to the bank in New Milton and thence to Ray and Daphne’s to deliver prints of the photographs I had been unable to e-mail. At least one reason for this failure was that I had the wrong e-mail address.
Jackie produced an excellent meal of chicken in black bean sauce and egg fried rice of which the chef at Royal China would no doubt be proud. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the cabernet sauvignon.
There is, perhaps, nothing more chastening than when you insist on using chopsticks and your dining companion asks: ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to use a spoon?’, and you know that it would be. On this occasion I eventually succumbed and used my spoon. We then decided to have a Post House Pud, which long-term readers will understand consists of meringue nests topped with whatever is available. This time it was rhubarb crumble flavoured yoghurt. I had used the spoon pictured above, but still had my fork, which I considered adequate for extracting the yoghurt from its pot. ‘Now you haven’t got a spoon’, said Jackie, getting up and placing one beside me. Somewhat absent-mindedly I continued to start my dessert with the fork. ‘That’s a fork’, she said.
