clematis montana – Page 2

Wet Paint

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED. THE LAST PAIR ACCESS A GALLERY THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Today I scanned a few more colour negatives from the Summer of 1986.

The first is Sam in the garden of our home at Gracedale Road.

This is where this picture of him and Jessica was taken.

I cannot definitely locate the sites of the holiday photos.

These of Matthew guiding Sam up a mountain

and exploring the summit, was in North Wales.

The full meadow would have been in the same part of the country as the following phone-box sequence; possibly North Devon. Modern farming, and the increase in motorways have put such meadows in jeopardy. It was Dame Miriam Rothschild who led the move to revive them with her wildflower seed mix (http://www.ohllimited.co.uk/the-ashton-estate/wildflower-seed-mix/). The Head Gardener tells me that this woman was in the habit of flinging them out of the window of her Rolls Royce.

Now, what would the average person do when faced with a ‘Wet Paint’ sign on a bright shiny surface?

I’m sure you know, and would not be surprised to discover that Jessica was no exception.

Jessica and Louisa and phonebox Summer 1986

Neither was she averse to introducing our daughter, Louisa, to risky ventures.

On this occasion she was pleased to demonstrate that she had no paint on her fingers.

Sadly these telephone boxes have, in the countryside, largely fallen into disuse, and, like their companion red pillar boxes, rarely bear a coat of fresh paint.

This evening, Becky, Ian, Jackie, and I enjoyed our usual excellent food and hospitality at Lymington’s Lal Quilla. I chose prawn dansak and shared special fried rice and egg paratha with Jackie, whose main meal was prawn dupiaza. The four of us shared onion bahjis. Becky drank red wine and the rest of us, Kingfisher.

PS. See TanGental’s comment below, with its link to the recycling of telephone boxes.

Before The Wedding

Before setting off to Lyndhurst for Danni and Andy’s wedding, we took a short tour round the garden.

Cynthia Jobin‘s question on yesterday’s post had alerted us to the similarities between cow parsley and hemlock. After extensive research The Head Gardener was able to pronounce that we did not have poison and could indeed make soup with our crop.

We have now discovered that the boy in the four seasons statuary represents summer.

Two clematis Montanas are now giving the dead Snake Bark maple a new lease of life.

We attended the aforementioned wedding, had lots of lovely food and a certain amount of beer and wine. I will report on it tomorrow.

Before The Thunderstorm

AS ALWAYS, CLICKING ON THE IMAGES WILL ENLARGE THEM. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

For the best part of the day there were two consistencies in the weather: it was very warm and it was dry. This meant the overnight rain soon evaporated. The sun, however, vied for dominance with the clouds.

Stopping on the way to buy a necessary sack barrow from Milford Supplies, we drove to Molly’s Den in search of two more stone urns for the rose garden. We were successful and installed them into position.

We also bought a red-painted wrought iron planter.

Early on, in the front garden,

tulips’ in-built umbrellas protected their stamens.

Bees preferred the pollen from the clematis Montana. If you can’t spot this insect filling its thigh sacs, you may choose to enlarge the image,

or opt for this one instead.

Pearly drops slipped from aquilegias.

The viburnum plicatum had benefited from the warmth and the rain.

Two years ago, outside the utility room door, stood the stump of a wisteria that had clearly been heavily pruned, we imagine to make way for the plumbing for the en-suite bathroom above. It has responded to nurturing the first year, and training the next, to produce a fine drapery which should increase even more next year.

Another stump, this time on the grass patch, has recovered to produce a pieris that now shows signs of feeling crowded by the Castle Bench.

Offspring of the erigeron, outside the French windows to the sitting room, have been adopted by various other parts of the garden.

Just before the thunderstorm hit at 4.30, after Jackie had planted up the urns, I joined her for cold drinks and a rest in the rose garden.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s prize chicken jalfrezi, now nicely maturing; meat samosas, egg fried rice, onion bhajis, and parathas. I drank more of the Cotes du Rhone, while The Cook abstained.

Particularly Partial To A Love Knot

Today will apparently be the last warm and sunny day for a week, so, naturally it was spent pottering in the garden.

At the front two crab apple trees are blossoming,

and the saxifrages and other plants are beginning to decorate the stone edging which we hope they will soon festoon. Between the daffodils and the red tulips can be seen interesting ones that have yet to reveal their hues. We thinned out, and separated the libertia, one of which can be seen beside the drainpipe. Another cherry is blooming at top right.

Raised pots are employed to give height (and enable us to see the flowers, such as these violas filling a hanging basket, from our sitting room whilst still seated).

The back path between the Brick Path and North Breeze affords an interesting perspective on the Castle Bench. In the distance at top left can be seen the new leaves on the beech tree. There is always a possibility that a colourful bin for collecting up weeds will find its way into the picture. I prefer to leave them as found. It is, of course, a working garden.

Tulips are still emerging on the back drive.

One busy Small White butterfly dashed from honesty to honesty. It was difficult to keep tabs on it. Can you?

Here are three more angles on the clematis Montana arch employed yesterday.

These statuesque euphorbias were widespread throughout the garden. We have thinned them out a bit.

While we sat in the rose garden, I noticed that we were already suffering an invasion of greenfly. They are particularly partial to a Love Knot bud. We set about them with a spray.

This evening we dined at Lymington’s Lal Quilla. We both drank Kingfisher and shared egg fried rice, egg paratha, and onion bhaji. My main meal was king prawn Ceylon; Jackie’s was chicken Haryali. We enjoyed the usual excellent quality food and warm and friendly service.

Down The Lane

This morning I wandered through the garden, down Downton Lane and into Roger’s field and back.

The red Japanese maple is now coming into leaf, and we may soon have to refill the Waterboy’s shell.

The clematis Montana, retrained eighteen months ago, now festoons the dead tree;

and different, delicate, tulips are bursting into life.

Dandelions currently claim the lane’s verges,

where, soon, cow parsley will swamp primulas.

On this ivy leaf, I think, is a hoverfly masquerading as a wasp.

I exchanged waves with the friendly farmer as, attracting the usual avian entourage,

he drove up and down fertilising his field, with a backdrop of Christchurch Bay.

The oak trees are producing plumage. In the bottom right of this picture can be seen another amenable gentleman,

one of the staff of Transform Paving, working on the drive of number 23.

After lunch, I rendered token assistance to The Head Gardener in replenishing and redistributing soil, then cut the grass. The bed here demonstrates the soil rejuvenation process. To the left, clog clay soil has been removed and placed where it doesn’t matter much, then replaced by all-purpose compost. That to the right is, as yet, untreated. Anyone with a better knowledge than mine will recognise a self-seeded mimulus from last year in the left-hand section. They obviously do well there. That is why the wheelbarrow contains more of these plants, to be inserted tomorrow.

For the whole time we sat in the rose garden with our pre-dinner Hoegaarden and cabernet sauvignon, a big fat wood pigeon warbled his contribution to our conversation. Or perhaps he was simply calling to his mate.

There was plenty of last night’s menu for us to come back for more this evening.

Confusion For Flora And Fauna

Jackie continued with general garden maintenance today.

Here she applies anti-vine weevil solution to all her many heucheras.

As became clear last year, there is no defined boundary between us and the empty North Breeze next door. In particular, that at the front is concocted from self seeded trees, rotting planks of wood, and what I take to be one of the pre-Everest window frames from our house. The glass panes have long since become estranged from their lead. Some have remained intact, but others have broken and found their way into the thin layer of soil in which a few weeds have managed to survive. This earth has been laid on top of gravel, thus narrowing the path that led round the house.

My task was to remove this soil in order to expose the shingle, thus widening the path. This was easier said than done. That is because the strip was full of tree roots, rubble, concrete, bramble, and ivy. I just dug it over. Moving it can wait.

A view from the south west corner of the patio shows the condition of our neighbour’s back garden, and some of the panels we have set in place to keep the triffids at bay.

We continue to enjoy such warm, sunny, weather as to become somewhat confusing to flora and fauna alike.

The clematis Montana clothing the large dead tree alongside the new bed is blooming again.

The owl in the dead snake bark maple, especially having experienced the bright super moon throughout the night, just cannot get to sleep.

Antirrhinums are growing alongside sedums.

Butterflies and bees like these in

cosmos and

kniphofia must be convinced we are still enjoying summer.

The asters, however, know what the season is.

This evening we dined on fillet steak; a moist melange of mushrooms, leaks, onions, and peppers; and crisp carrots, green beans, and new potatoes. I drank Via di Cavallo Chianti 2014. Jackie had already enjoyed her Hoegaarden in the rose garden.

Magnus V. Kings Grantham

As yet unacquainted with Robert Frost, last night I read Paul Muldoon’s introduction to the Folio Society’s selection of his poems. I must admit I found it difficult, and hope I will get on better with the poetry. Whilst I have been unable to render much help in the garden, Jackie has continued with her sterling work. Among other tasks, she has created two more beds where the log pile once lay. Separated by a boundary formed from a tree root and bricks, the one at the rear is an as yet inchoate shrubbery, and that in the foreground, filled with flowers. The clematis Montana, emanating from beneath the poorly-looking, bright yellow-leaved tree, has been trained, with the aid of a branch pruned from another, to form an arch between that and the dead trunk, down which it now cascades. The tub in the left foreground of the first picture is destined to be adorned with a pot of flowers. To its left is a retrained fuchsia, yet to bloom. The weak morning light, filtered by cloud cover, is kinder to the photographer of white petals, obviating burning out the detail. Yesterday’s prints are contained in my photograph album spanning the period from December 1994 to August 1995. Today, I scanned another batch, this time from January ’95, recording a rugby match between Magnus, Newark; and Kings, Grantham schools.

Sam, the Magnus captain, to our left of the referee, faces his opponent at the kick-off.

Here, Sam’s great friend, Lewis Cove makes the ball available with scant regard for his own safety. Lewis was as recklessly rampant, putting his body on the line all over the field, as was his Leicester and England namesake, Lewis Moody. Five years later, our Lewis was coaching in South Africa, and Sam was captaining Wadham College, Oxford.

Sometimes it is best to shut your eyes and hope for the best.

The referee pulled a muscle;

a replacement pointed the finger; the game continued

under new direction, and Sam went foraging in a ruck.

With the ball on its way, forwards are poised for the line-out leap.

At half-time there was the usual tactical talk.

Kings Grantham’s scrum seems to have collapsed.

Someone has obviously screwed up here.

Finally, Sam is prepared for a leap, as I was in Jessica’s 1982 photo.

Elizabeth had this last print in a folder of my pictures that she ‘borrowed’ for an album she made for Mum’s 80th birthday. She has only kept it for 12 years. She brought the whole selection back this evening, so we had to feed her. That was fair and reasonable really.

The meal consisted of roast lamb, parsnips, potatoes, and vegetables; crisp cauliflower and cabbage; and onion and red wine gravy, followed by pineapple syrup sponge and custard. Elizabeth and I finished the rioja.

I must be getting rather blasé about this blogging lark. WordPress have sent me a happy anniversary notice, celebrating my third. I had forgotten.

The Task Ahead Of Me

A.P. Maintenance have done a grand job on the back drive. The section in the foreground, abutting the road, is to be concreted next weekend.

The clematis Montana is now spreading down the dead trunk.

More rhododendrons are in bloom.

Yellow flowers, like those now appearing on tree peonies, attract insects, such as this iridescent-winged fly.

Today I finished reading ‘To Kill A Mocking Bird’, Harper Lee’s masterpiece from 1960. So many people have responded to yesterday’s post saying that it is one of their favourite books, and even more that it is on their reading list, that I will not give details here. Instead I will describe its impact. Set in 1935, this is a tale told through the eyes of a little girl from the ages of four to eight. It can be seen as an insightful piece of character building based on keen observation and a knowledge of what childhood was like. It also deals in a sensitive way with a profound social issue that was still relevant in 1960. For good measure there is a side-issue of a mystery beautifully solved at the end.

The writing is fluid. It has a gentle pace that picks up fast as the story unfolds. Characterisation and descriptions of small-town life are perfectly credible.

I did not want to put it down, and therefore consumed it in two sessions, one of several hours.

If it’s on your list, read it. If you intend to return to it, do so.

I probably won’t, because I’ll never manage to open many of my unread books. As I popped my Folio Society edition, that is enhanced by the fine pen and ink sketches of Aafke Brouwer, back onto it’s shelf, I was reminded of the task ahead of me.

The eight volumes on the left are some of my Heron Books set of the works of D.H. Lawrence from 1969, a reasonably produced cheap illustrated edition within the budget of a young family man. I have read most of them, which is more than can be said of the John le Carre quintet. I have read The Night Manager, but don’t remember much about it. ‘Our Game’, hasn’t even been removed from its cling film wrapping. The Aladdin I bought because of Errol le Cain’s illustrations. The next four I haven’t opened. I may have read ‘A Very Long Way From Here’, which I think was aimed at teenagers, although I was much older. Of the rest, only Doris Lessing’s ‘The Fifth Child’, and the two by Andrea Levy have been read. ‘Small Island’ describes the disappointing experience of early Jamaican immigrants to England; and ‘Fruit of the Lemon’, the, equally disillusioning visit of a descendent to the island from which her family originated. If you like ‘To Kill a Mocking Bird’, you will like these. Doris Leslie’s ‘Peridot Flight’ is part of my Auntie Ivy’s collection, given to me when she moved into a care home at the end of her life. Maybe I’ll read that before my days are over. Maybe I won’t.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious sausage casserole (recipe), mashed potato, with crisp carrots, cabbage, and runner beans, followed by profiteroles. I drank Alexis Lichine cute exceptionnelle, Bordeaux superieur 2013, and Jackie imbibed Hoegaarden Belgian beer best before 15.08.16.

Perhaps I Am Ready For A Bus Pass

When we arrived in Downton last year, the garden was so overgrown that, by the time we began to tidy up some of the shrubbery, many blooms had died off and we didn’t know what we were working on. We did, however, leave enough in the ground to give them chance to display their wares this year.

One such is this shrub that we have not been able to identify. Any suggestions would be gratefully appreciated. (Jackie has now discovered that this is a lonicera tatarica – Tartarian honeysuckle – from Siberia)

Our small yellow poppies have now come out to play with their orange companions.

The weaver has completed the erigeron carpet outside the patio doors.

The clematis Montana we retrained last year up the tall dead tree trunk, has thrived and begun to bloom.

I have been advised against gardening until my stitches are removed on 5th May. This means that the head gardener has to continue for another week without an under-gardener. One of the many tasks she is working her way through is defining the edges of what we magnanimously call the lawn. This is what the currently untidied section looked like this morning:

and this is the corner she has trimmed:

The task involves defining the edge with a spade, forming a small trench by tossing up some of the stubborn soil, and moving self seeded plants, such as the Japanese anemones, to other areas which need them.

Jackie was spending the afternoon with her sisters in Christchurch, and my knee was improved enough for me to think I might manage the half mile walk up Downton Lane. She therefore drove me to the green at Milford on Sea, where I intended to sit for a while and return by bus to the bottom of the lane. On the edge of the green is a lock-up somewhat overgrown with ivy. I photographed the whole scene in colour, in order to show the pink blossom in the background. However, inspired by iosatel.wordpress.com, I then produced a black and white image that that inspirational photographer in the obvious and hidden series would no doubt have given a suitably cryptic title.

After this, an inspection of the bus timetable revealed that there was one due in two minutes, and thereafter not another for two hours. I took the earlier transport. Never having used this local facility before, I had no freedom pass, and therefore had to pay for the short journey which would normally have taken no time at all. Perhaps I should apply for a free service.

I managed the walk and noticed that the oaks stretching across the lane to meet the opposite pines are now coming into leaf.

This evening we had a surprise visit from our friend Anne who lives in Athens. We all dined at Lal Quilla, and had an enjoyable time catching up with each other. Jackie and I drank Kingfisher. Anne’s choice was the house white wine.

Rabbits And A Slow Worm

The wind still raged after a stormy night. I walked down to the Spar shop and back for strawberry jam to accompany scones for the visit of Michael, Heidi, Emily and Alice. They didn’t have any so I settled for blackcurrant.

Choppy breakers on the Solent, a good mile away, could be seen from Downton Lane, where plants

such as periwinkle, even in the shelter of the hedgerow, quivered precariously before the blasts.

Droplets from the otherwise uninspired fountains in Shorefield Country Park sparkled in the occasional bright sunlight as they were blown across the disturbance of the surface of the pool.
According to the poet Alfred Noyes, Kew, which ‘isn’t far from London’, is worth a visit at lilac time. We are quite a way from London,

but we have a few lilacs in the garden, as well as various clematis, most of which are entwined among trees and other shrubs. One such is the montana shown here.
Jackie put on a splendid lunch for us and our visitors. Broccoli and Stilton soup was followed by pizza and garlic bread, before an array of cold meats, cheeses and various salad ingredients.

Michael, Heidi, and the girls accompanied me on a walk to the beach.

A slow worm slithering across the tarmac on the path to the rookery caused some consternation. It looked so much like a snake.
After descending the steps from the cliff top we continued along the shingle to the Hordle Cliff car park where Jackie met us. Heidi joined Jackie on the return in the car and the rest of us walked back.

Like the rooks, battling against the buffeting wind, we struggled to maintain our line. Guess who took the pictures.

Alice stopped on the way back to photograph rabbits scuttling about among the static caravans in the country park.

When she got home she e-mailed me some of her pictures:
After a quick cup of tea and scones I accompanied Michael and his family to New Milton railway station where we deposited Emily on a train for her journey back to Nottingham to rejoin her university. The rest of us then returned for more tea at our leisure before my son, daughter-in-law and younger granddaughter set off back to Sanderstead.
I had forgotten to give Michael his belated birthday present, so telephoned him and he returned to collect it and continued on his way.
This evening the remainder of the super soup sufficed for our supper.