clematis Comtesse de Bouchard

Mad Max

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It was finger-tingling cold when Jackie continued her winter planting on this sun-bright morning and I photographed some still lingering blooms.

Outside the kitchen door pelargoniums, petunias, and erigeron vie for space.

More pelargoniums,

some with autumnal plumage, as in this urn shared with verbenas, continue to spread their colour around.

Rozanne geraniums add splashes of blue

palely reflected by clematis Comtesse de Bouchard

just about thriving on the gazebo

along with the winter flowering Cirrhosa.

There are still hardy fuchsias

I may not yet have featured.

This maple on the grass had been cut down when we arrived three years ago. We are encouraging it to come back to life.

Honesty seeds are masquerading as Pauline’s light catchers.

They are seen here in the Cryptomeria Bed.

The roses to the right of the tree rise over the Oval Bed. As can be seen, there are more to come.

Hot Lips salvia,

varieties of nasturtium,

and even of antirrhinum, still bloom.

On such a day a late afternoon forest drive was essential.

A pony in a field off South Sway Lane was more interested in the grass than in Sway Tower.

Opposite Longsdale View, where gorse blooms among the bracken,

the Isle of Wight is visible across the moors.

Along the stretch of Highland Water just outside Brockenhurst,

where stumps stand like ancient tombstones on one bank,

the deciduous trees

now wear their temporary autumn plumage;

the banks are becoming waterlogged

enough for arboreal reflections.

It was here that I was introduced to Mad Max, who had no fear of freezing his nether regions.

The forest road between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu displayed trees resplendent

with the last of their glowing golds

and burnished browns;

falling fast

to carpet the floor.

As we approached Beaulieu, a pair of backlit ponies prompted Jackie to park the car on the verge and me to wander back to photograph them. Maybe it was something I said,

for, in turn,

they turned tail,

and crossed the road,

to join companions enjoying greener grass.

The portions of our meal at The Raj two nights ago were so generous that we couldn’t eat it all and brought some home.. Jackie added samosas and onion bahjis for this evening’s repast, with which I finished the malbec.

Checking Out The Venue

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Late this morning sunlight burst onto the canna lily given to us by Helen Keenan.

The garden beyond was alive with the buzzing of bees

and fluttering butterflies like this Small White three quarters of the way up the lines of a hanging basket

or this Comma hiding in the shadows.

The dahlia in the first picture is one of those

supported by the white pedestal in the patio.

Dappled starlight seemed to brighten the Stable Door.

Marguerites, petunias, and bidens continue to bloom on the edge of the Dragon Bed;

deep violet petunias spill from the Iron Urn;

while pale pink striped ones accompany similar hued geraniums on the

Cryptomeria Bed also sporting Hot Lips salvias.

More dahlias continue to bloom alongside the Dead End Path,

and in the New Bed.

A Canna lily lifts its flaming torch over the Palm Bed;

Blue Ming Marvellous campanula once more lives up to its punning name in the Rose Garden;

New Zealand flax, rudbeckia, and the remains of a crocosmia Lucifer still provide a sinuous sweep in the Palm Bed;

and clematis Comtesse de Bouchard flounces once more over the gazebo.

Sedum, fuchsias

and asters parade along the herbaceous border.

An orange begonia hangs before the Weeping Birch, the leaves of which appear to confirm that summer really is thinking about departing.

This afternoon we drove out to the other Downton, near Salisbury in Wiltshire, in order to checkout the route to the venues for Rachel and Gareth’s wedding on Saturday. The service is to be held at Timberley Lane, Redlynch, which was our first stop. From there we travelled to Barford Park Farm, where the reception is booked.

Cattle grazed in the field

on one side of the entrance drive.

The fields on the opposite side of Barford Lane basked in the warm sunshine. What a shame that the forecast for this area on the wedding day is continual rain.

Driving through:

on our way home, we noticed that the village public telephone box has now been converted to a book exchange.

Naturally we rummaged for romantic novels.

Jackie all but made off with her favourite find.

The cricket season has ended, but ponies still carry out groundsmen’s duties on the outfield at Nomansland.

We stopped for a drink at The Green Dragon, Brook, then continued on home.

This evening we dined on smoked haddock, piquant cauliflower cheese, crunchy carrots, new potatoes, and runner beans. I drank more of the malbec.

Hues Of Blue

On this day, with temperatures around 30 degrees, according to the meteorologists, because of a shift in the jet stream, we are enjoying ‘Spanish weather’.

In case any of my commenters have missed Becky’s observation on yesterday’s post, this is what she added to it this morning: ‘Wow. What lovely followers you have, Dad. x’

A small red rose standing in a tub by our front door, and requiring more space, will eventually be transplanted to the rose garden. Taking her first outing since her knee operation, Jackie drove me to the surgery at Milford on Sea, for me to hand in a repeat prescription request. We met Giles in the car park, and had a short conversation. Feeling confident enough to return home without an escort, my chauffeuse, dropped me near the Beach House hotel, and I walked back by the cliff top/Shorefield route. Whilst I was enjoying myself, Jackie continued to Tesco’s for a shop, and watered the hanging baskets on her return, thus saving me that latter task.

Thistles and convolvulus twinkled in the hedgerows.

Sunlight glistened on The Solent’s various hues of blue,

its passing vessels, and their wake.

You would need to wander down this cliff path to encounter the dog this woman was walking by the breakwater.

I am not really up to descending to the water’s edge, so was unable to warn the fairly numerous swimmers risking a skewering by the WW2 hazards.

Elsewhere sun-tans were sought.

By late afternoon, many of the baskets needed a further soaking. I rendered minimal assistance with this.

A hoverfly, sheltered by a higher bloom in full sun, flanked by budding guards, investigated the flower of clematis Comtesse de Bouchard.

This evening we dined on fillet steak on a bed of onions, garlic, peppers, and mushrooms; chips; and runner beans; followed by mixed fruit crumble and custard. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, whilst I imbibed Louis de Camponac cabernet sauvignon 2014.