crocosmia – derrickjknight

Picnicking

Even at 8.30 this morning garden watering was shirt-soaking weather without having gone anywhere near the sprinkler.

I also produced a few photographs. Jackie said I made life difficult for myself with the camera slung round my neck. As usual, the gallery can be accessed by clicking on any image, each of which may be enlarged. This may be useful to find the camouflaged bee in the last picture.

Later, we set off for a picnic lunch. I should have known that the cattle drinking from the stream crossed by Holmsley Passage would have been inquisitive enough to

leave by the time I extricated myself from the car, and proceed to block the road.

The usual string of ponies did the same with considerably more effect than the bovines. Jackie considered that the traffic problem had been exacerbated by “old man in the road”. Well, it was a little difficult for me to round the obstacles to meet up with my Chauffeuse who had moved on ahead.

Outside Hyde CE Primary School a donkey foal stopped during feeding time for a scratch while waiting to be enrolled into ‘The Family in the Forest’.

Eventually we found a shady car park in Godshill Wood. We hadn’t bought chairs and there were no benches, so we could not emulate other, better prepared, picnickers and stayed in the open-windowed car watching

a trio of ponies clustered together for protection against the myriad of flies they had diverted from our lunch.

Another equine pair took direct shelter beneath the trees.

Occasionally a combination of the carelessly parked grey car and the cluster of ponies presented drivers with difficulty. One young lady left her car and proceeded to push a pony in an attempt to shift the group. She was pushed in turn, declared that the pony was either too hot or too grumpy, and returned her transport which threw up dust as it sped off into the distance.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

Shifting Light

This morning my gardening occupations combined dead heading and making photographs.

These roses Summer Wine and Altissimo, both coming again, were too high for me to reach with hand secateurs, and I couldn’t be bothered to fetch the steps.

Bigifying will probably be necessary to appreciate these bees on bidens, on Japanese anemones, and coming to land on crocosmia. Just click on any image to access the gallery and enlarge further with clicks on the ‘view full size’ box underneath and again if required. The bees swarming the Japanese anemones must be welcoming the plants’ early blooming.

Crocosmia blend well with other plants such as these bell-like alliums and the Japanese maple with its fingers singed by recent violent winds.

From beside this latter crocosmia I was able, through the maple, to view the petunias and pelargoniums featured alongside the kitchen wall.

We haven’t identified all the clematises in the garden. The first of this triptych above, for example, is a Lidl unnamed purchase; we do know that it is Niobe who shares the arch with the fuchsia, Chequerboard; the Head Gardener was determined to track down ‘clematis viticella purpurea plena elegans’, which took her some time, because when we arrived seven years ago this then weakly specimen was ailing in the rubble jungle that we eventually turned into the Rose Garden – it was fostered out in another bed until we returned it to its native soil, and has taken three years to reach the top of its supporting beam.

One of these yellow evening primrose blooms has survived the night well; this phantom hydrangea is also a survivor – it is the plant after which the eponymous path is named – first planted on one side of the Phantom Path it was really rather poorly for its first two years, until Aaron moved it into Margery’s Bed where it has enjoyed more light. We hope it will soon be in the shape in which we bought it.

Hemerocallis still thrive and we also have stargazer lilies in the main garden.

Four hours later, in mid afternoon I set out once more with my camera, giving me shifted lighting conditions.

A bee did its best to weigh down a verbena bonariensis.

Niobe could now sunbathe, and the clematis at the barrier between the garden and the back drive enjoyed light and shade;

the freckled lilies kept out of the direct sunlight;

sweet peas and hollyhocks could take it stronger.

My lens found the white flowers the best beneficiaries: sweet scented petunias, powerfully aromatic phlox, a clutch of dahlias, different Japanese anemones and the phantom hydrangea sheltered in shade this morning.

This evening we dined on prawn fish cakes, peas, and fresh crispy bread and butter with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Carles from a second bottle.

Unashamedly Odious

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Once hailed as ‘one of Hampshire’s loveliest gardens’ we last visited Apple Court Garden, under its previous ownership in the spring of 2014. Elizabeth had also viewed it before then. Today it was open under the NGS (National Gardens Scheme) which raises money for charity. The three of us went along to be profoundly disappointed. Certainly we have endured a very dry summer, but that was no reason for the general air of decay and lack of care, especially as the entrance fee and prices of rather sad plants for sale were high.

My camera worked hard to find things of beauty to photograph.

Jackie and Elizabeth studied the plants for sale, on the way to the entrance hut.

Such colour as there was on this stretch – or anywhere else for that matter, appeared in scattered spots, like this spiderwort tradescantia,

or this attractive two-tone crocosmia.

Elizabeth having paid our £5 a head entrance fee we scoured the beds for interest. Here Jackie contemplates the parched earth.

The distant agapanthuses looked well enough;

This bright phormium sent up reddish feathered foliage;

a decorative Turk’s Head lily swayed to

Joe Pye Weed is attractive to bees. We noticed none in the garden.

A modicum of interest was engendered by the emergence of other visitors in the gaps between the beech hedges.

At least, we imagined, the water lilies

and the carp in the Japanese garden would sparkle. Sadly the once clear water was too murky for the lens to penetrate to any depth; spiders’ webs festooned the wooden screen;

the surrounding path had become overgrown and the gravel so sparse as to offer raised circular stones as booby traps.

Comparisons are odious – so the old saying goes. Well, in our view this is no longer a lovely garden. A glance at the last two images in the post highlighted in the first paragraph above will show the difference in the carp’s pool. Our own garden, containing far more colour per square metre, is about a quarter of a mile from Apple Court. I am unashamed in making these two comparisons.

This evening Jackie produced, for the three of us, succulent roast lamb; perfectly crisp roast potatoes; Yorkshire pudding; runner beans from the garden with crunchy carrots and soft mange touts; and onion gravy so thick as to require a spoon for serving. Jackie having drunk her Hoegaarden on the patio beforehand, abstained from alcohol, while Elizabeth and I drank Castillero del Diablo reserva Merlot 2017.

Waiting For The Dilation

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A wander round the garden this morning yielded

spears of crocosmia, tulips, and daffodils piercing the soil;

Crocuses

crocuses opened further;

Primulas and snowdrops

and varieties of primula.

Daphne odorata

Daphne Odorata remains wary of the possibility of a cold spell.

The winter flowering clematis Cirrhosa now cascades down the gazebo,

while, in the Rose Garden, Winchester Cathedral has bloomed for several months; Mum in a Million and Festive Jewel are in bud;

Spring sculpture

and the sun shines on “Spring”

This afternoon Jackie drove me to Lymington Hospital and back, for my eye appointment. I received efficient treatment, the nurse being rather more friendly than the consultant, but it is not his bedside manner that I suppose one looks to. After the nurse’s checks, she administered drops intended to dilate my eyes. They were effective, and, according to Jackie, gave me a sexy air. On hearing this, the gentleman sitting next to me asked her to look at his.

The consultant advised me that the laser treatment to my left eye was, as I thought, required. Apparently another cataract is forming in the right eye. I was asked if I wanted it done. No advice was given. I declined. I now await a date for the operation to the left eye.

Further administrative confusion occurred, in that a handwritten notice on the wall advised that, as stated in the appointment letter, we may have further checks carried out after the examination in order to save repeated visits. These could take three hours. Neither my nor anyone else’s letter carried such information. However this didn’t happen.

Waiting for the dilation to take effect gave me sufficient time to finish ‘The Locked Room’, being the third short novel in Paul Auster’s New York Trilogy. In the penultimate chapter the author suggests that all three of these works are the same story. He also uses the word ‘absurd’ on a number of occasions. It is. We are lulled, in this final episode, into thinking we might be reading something that makes sense. The writing flows with excellent descriptions and presents a plausible situation involving apparently real people and their relationships. A childhood friendship, for example, is beautifully told. There is, as usual, no ultimate clarity as nonsense finally prevails. Not that I could follow, anyway.

Tom Burns’s illustrations were, however, a delight, true to the text to the end.

For our dinner The Culinary Queen produced succulent pigs in blankets; sublime sage and onion stuffed roast chicken; firm Yorkshire pudding; creamy mashed potato; toothsome manges touts; and tender runner beans. Good gravy, too. With this, I drank Wolf’s Leap merlot 2016.

Compassion Recovered

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Apart from the collapse of the Compassion rose arch, the recent storms have treated us with respect.

The clematis and solanum have remained attached to the dead tree.

Orange crocosmia still stands at the potting shed entrance to the Rose Garden,

while yellow and orange thrive harmoniously in the Dragon Bed.

Clematis Duchess of Albany drapes herself over the arbour in the Rose Garden

Where Penny Lane parades her maturity;

and others such as For Your Eyes Only

and Festive Jewel are reliving their youth.

Fuchsia Delta’s Sarah spreads along the side of the triangular bed now beside the greenhouse.

Light pink Japanese anemones reach the lower branches of the red maple;

darker pink ones are quite prolific,

while white ones enliven the

West Bed with its New Zealand hebe, its leicesteria,

and its dahlias.

Close by we have fuchsia Mrs Popple.

One clematis climbing the gazebo blends well with geraniums in a hanging basket;

another basket contains deep blue lobelia and an orange begonia.

Purple petunias and more lobelias populate the Back Drive barrier tubs.

The gaura in the Weeping Birch Bed is thriving.

The views across the Kitchen Bed;

from beside the weeping birch,

and along the Shady Bed from the Dragon Bed corner remain colourful.

Bees, like this one in a geranium palmatum continue working hard;

flies, such as this one crawling over Priscilla, are in abundance.

Yellow rudbeckia are at their best. Here are some in Margery’s Bed.

This morning was spent generally tidying up, one of Aaron’s tasks being to refurbish the fallen arch.

He then,

assisted by Jackie,

recovered the Compassion rose and tied it back in place.

This afternoon we visited Willows garden at Pilley. On the grounds that we couldn’t stand the competition, I will report on that tomorrow.

This evening we dined on fish pie, ratatouille, carrots and broccoli, with which we both drank Bergerac blanc sec 2016.

Destruction

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Yesterday afternoon, Jackie had been in the garden for some considerable time. This in itself was not exactly unusual, but I did think I should go out and ask whether she knew that it was raining. “Not in my greenhouse, it isn’t”.

Entering the construction myself, I saw her point, or rather her viewpoints.

When the sun emerged this morning from the previously leaden skies, I sat in the greenhouse with my camera.

A number of the photographs contain confusing reflections. Although I will allow viewers to work out most of these for themselves, I think it only fair that I should point out that the house in the first shot is not really on the other side of the

Dragon Bed,

from another corner of which the view leads across the garden past the gazebo and the bottle brush plant.

Crocosmias,

nicotiana,

day lilies and buddleia, among others, are all in view.

These two baskets hang over the Head Gardener’s Walk.

Jackie is particularly pleased that her orange cone is visible from her hide,

while, turning just a few yards to her right her eyes wander across the Kitchen Bed to the patio;

or the clematis festooning the Agriframes Arch.

After lunch we dumped the contents of two more orange bags of clippings into the container bins at Efford Recycling Centre, then went on a drive around the forest.

At Thorney Hill we encountered a string of ponies seeking shade under trees on the edge of their field.

Only one wore a fly protection mask, although

others could have done with something similar, and

an apparent biter had earned a muzzle.

By the roadside at Avon a burnt-out car, having charred the nearby fencing,

bore a Council Refuse Disposal notice.

It seemed to us that the vehicle had already suffered destruction.

This evening Jackie produced, pork slices cooked in piri-piri sauce; marvellous mushroom, onion, and egg rice; and tender runner beans. She drank Blue Moon, and I drank a 2015 Bordeaux.

A Little Short Of Perfection

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After three days of cloud and rain, this one was hot and humid. Too much so for making a start on restoring our plants to their best condition.

The sun did, however, cast friendly light upon such as these heucheras and leaves of barren crocosmias.

Those crocosmias my not have bloomed this year, but many have.

During last week’s storms the container of our aptly named Tumbler tomatoes was blown down, smashing another underneath. It has recovered reasonably well.

The hydrangeas have probably fared best in the wet weather.

Roses such as Mamma Mia

and Special Anniversary have become rather spotty.

The New Guinea impatiens plants have thrived,

as have various cosmoses, like those adorning Florence.

Canna lilies stand proud in the Palm Bed.

Various delicate penstemons, like this one with a lodger, also remain upright,

while the stems of this unusual antique pink foxglove has stooped a little.

The clematis Marie Boisselot still climbs her obelisk.

The begonias and geraniums are doing well, but we have a lot of dead heading to catch up on.

As will be seen the garden is currently a little short of perfection.

This evening we dined on pork and apple sausages with strips of pork belly, fried mushrooms and onions, crisp cabbage and carrots, and mashed potatoes. I drank Meszaros Pal Kekfrankos 2013, while Jackie chose fruit jiuce.

Lurking In The Shade

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Today Aaron and Robin levelled out the soil flanking the new fence and cleared away our last items of debris in preparation for building a log store.

The rubbish included the buried bath, now in its last resting place on the Back Drive, before removal to the dump.

I finished reading Barrie Haynes novelette ‘Walking in the Sea’ this morning. The illustrator is Barrie’s young granddaughter whose cover appeared on https://derrickjknight.com/2016/08/05/deadheading/

The blurb accurately describes the essence of this scurrilous romp which would probably, perhaps slightly Bowdlerised, provide the basis of a good TV detective series plot. Written almost entirely in the present tense, with direct, uncomplicated, and amusing prose, the book carries the reader along, keeping its essential secrets to the end. It was certainly easier reading than Jane Austen, its humour requiring rather less work.

I have occasionally mentioned our ongoing battle against invading brambles. This is what happens if we relax for week.

This time I reached over the fence with the long loppers in order to stem the flow at the lowest possible level.

On my way back down the garden I spied The Head Gardener lurking in the shade beside the Dragon’s Bed.

There are two types of crocosmia in this bed. The yellow one did not flower at all last year.

Drowsy bees clambered in and out of the cosmoses.

Here is Florence’s view past the hanging geraniums to Compassion rose climbing across the Dead End Path;

whilst beside the Phantom Path to the left, Margery’s hollyhocks soar aloft.

There are several clumps of Rudbeckia. This one is in the Palm Bed.

At the corner of the Cryptomeria Bed, ornamental grass; petunias, lobelia, and geraniums in hanging baskets; nicotiana; and buddleia stand in line.

We enjoyed a drink in the Rose Garden where Jackie operated the sprinkler, and

a fuchsia leads us past phlox and through the arch beside the hollyhocks featured above.

Jackie’s dinner this evening consisted of pork medallions baked in mustard and brown sugar topped with almond flakes; courgette, tomato and onion gratin; crisp carrots and green beans; boiled new potatoes; and tasty gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Becks and I drank sparkling water.

Gardening With A Camera

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Photographing while gardening is a hazardous business. I blame the camera’s unforgiving eye. My entertainment this morning was tidying up the Rose Garden with dead-heading and sweeping back into the beds the mulch bark that our avian friends daily toss onto the paving; and clearing up the Head Gardener’s clipping piles.

I was at risk of exposing bits I’d missed, like these few scraps of bark in this shot of crocosmia torches burning alongside the Rose Garden path;

revealing tasks I hadn’t yet carried out, like the clippings in this view through the gazebo;

or incurring the displeasure of the Head Gardener for leaving a blue bucket in this view from the circular concrete of what we think is the site of an old well.

This afternoon we continued with our usual garden maintenance activities, mine, of course, including the new camera, with which I am beginning to capture elusive insects in flight.

Small White butterflies are never still;

and bees, like this one aiming for a crocosmia, are apt to dart from one plant to another.

Included among the many varieties of fuchsia we have

Chequerboard,

Hawkshead,

and Army Nurse, this one sharing an urn with trailing lobelia.

There is also variety in the Rose Garden, provided by different types of flower, such as lilies, geraniums, petunias, penstemons, heucheras and honeysuckle, in addition to the crocosmias mentioned earlier.

Crême de la crême,

and Winchester Cathedral are among the white scented varieties of rose;

Mamma Mia is here reflected in one of the mirrors placed for that purpose.

This evening we dined at Lymington’s Lal Qilla, where, despite their being very crowded, we received our usual warm welcome, friendly, efficient service, and excellent food. My choice was king prawn Ceylon; Jackie’s was chicken sag; and we shared mushroom rice, egg paratha, and Tarka dal. We both drank Kingfisher.

With the promise of an interesting sunset on our return, we diverted to Milford on Sea. In the second shot the sky is reflected in the Modus’s roof.

Job Done

Because our neighbours are on holiday we were able to make an early start on burning branches and foliage. With the two fires approach we had made considerable progress by lunchtime.
This afternoon, I felt like a change, so Jackie drove me to Milford on Sea in order for me to investigate further the Nature Reserve Trevor had guided me to on the 13th. I had speculated that if I continued along this path instead of rejoining the coast road, it would take me to the woodland walk at the far end of Shorefield Country Park. Wonder of wonders, it did. I must be finding my bearings.
At the entrance to the footpath stands a memorial bench to Clifford Charles. A single fresh yellow rose tied to this signals that someone still remembers the man.
The footpath through this area runs roughly alongside a stream, across which a number of bridges lead to various houses, one group of which surrounds a lake, with a warning of deep water in which they are reflected.
Some of the residences bear solar panels in their roofs. These structures are intended to reduce energy consumption from the national grid, by harvesting that of sunlight. I believe most of these are supplied with the aid of a government grant, because the cost of fitting them means that it would take many years for householders to profit from their investment if they paid for them themselves.
I didn’t really see any wild life, although I heard a number of birds. I did wonder, however, what creature might have made a burrow I noticed beside an old tree stump.
Other walkers availed themselves of the footpath, including a couple with what the woman called a ‘very bouncy’ terrier as she restrained him while I passed and they continued on their way in the opposite direction. Crocosmia were growing at the junction where she had heaved on an outstretched lead whilst her dog tugged on the other end.
Even in this beautiful, well-maintined spot people dump their rubbish.
At two points along the stream, makeshift swings have been attached to trees, so that dangling over the water adds a little excitement to a standard childhood pleasure. As I neared Shorefield, I heard two young cyclists speculating about where they were. I was able to tell them, and was rather amused to point out to them a sign, just ahead of them, asking people not to cycle. They were rather nonplussed at this, and, I think, unconvinced by my observation that there was no sign from their direction so they could ignore this one. I do hope they didn’t push their bikes all the way back.
When I returned home by way of Shorefield, I got the fires going again. Having burned almost all the debris, I sat on a metal frame, possibly part of what, on the house inventory had been laughingly called an ‘unassembled greenhouse’, imagining I would clear up the final soggy bits of vegetation that now lined twenty yards or so of the back drive, tomorrow, The head gardener arrived and asked if she should get me a rake. None of the possible polite phrases I might have used to decline the offer seemed particularly appropriate. To be fair, Jackie did bring two rakes, and scraped up her fair share. This all went onto the fires. We then cut and pulled up many of the brambles that still flourished there, and added added those. Just before sunset the job was done.
Dinner was an interesting medley. We enjoyed brisket of beef marinaded in barbecue sauce, baked beans, and bubble and squeak with a fried egg on top. Profiteroles were for dessert. I drank a splendid Castillo San Lorenzo rioja reserva 2008, and Jackie was also impressed with her Franziskaner Weissbier which has apparently been brewed by monks in Munich since 1363. Clearly the secret of longevity.