Tag: daffodils

The Greenhouse Path

Every year we are invaded by small white onion flowers which bear clusters of up to 24 tiny bulbs which are very difficult to eradicate.

Jackie has set about these menaces with a vengeance.

Every brick or slab beneath which they have hidden themselves she has lifted in order to remove each tiny offspring.

Having completed the work on the brick circle around the urn on the site of the old well, she turned her attention to the Greenhouse Path which she finished today.

In addition to photographing her work in progress she also focussed on a few flowers.

Our various camellias are still going strong;

She has dead-headed the daffodils that are past their best, but there are many varieties with different time-scales.

Some violas have been included in pots with other planting; a few stand alone.

Blue wood anemones; a white Leucojum ‘Spring Snowflakes’ with green tips; mauve hellebores; and an ornamental owl surrounded by new clematis shoots, complete her gallery.

Elizabeth dropped in this afternoon for a cup of tea and convivial chat.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie; carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, runner beans, and gravy, with which I drank more of the Rioja.

Here Comes Spring

This morning I deleted from my iPhotos all the images from

and from

The garden today is Springlike.

Having taken in the general scene from our upstairs windows, I wandered around delighting in some individual blooms. Each of these images bears a title in the gallery.

This afternoon I watched the Women’s Six Nations rugby match between England and Italy.

Our dinner this evening consisted of roast duck and chicken pieces; boiled new potatoes; firm carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, with which I finished the Kimbao wine.

Yellow Lane

Today was still cold yet brightly sunny.

On my recent poles practice perambulation I passed

a pretty primrose bank outside No. 19 Downton Lane, and repeated the trip with camera this morning. This was the first time I had managed the camera round my neck while clutching poles, and consequently requires somewhat awkward manoeuvring.

On my return I also photographed lesser celandines and daffodils,

including our own in the raised bed at the lane entrance to our Back Drive built by Martin to deter drivers from flattening the flowers we attempted to grow there before.

Continuing my attempt to reduce the number of pictures in my iPhotos while continuing to publish new ones, I retained only one image from

I have retained none of the iPhotos pictures from

I spent the afternoon on https://derrickjknight.com/2025/03/18/the-cunning-man/

This evening we dined on thick crust pepperoni pizza with fresh salad with which I drank Reserva Privada Chilean Malbec 2023

Some Squirrel Survivors

This afternoon I wandered around the garden with my camera.

Each of these images bears a title in the gallery. It will be seen that some of the tulips have survived the stealthily stealing squirrel.

Afterwards I sat down with ‘The Cunning Man’.

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork; crisp Yorkshire pudding; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; tender broccoli stems and runner beans, with meaty gravy, with which I drank more of the Malbec.

Shirt Sleeves Sunshine

This morning, accompanied by returning birdsong, I took a trip round the garden, occupied by numerous flying insects like these

bees drawn to euphorbia.

Martin’s tireless efforts of cutting back shrubbery, trimming and training roses throughout the winter have opened up

views throughout the garden.

Quite apart from their having no right to be in bloom this early these on the patio have survived all that the elements have thrown at them during the last few days;

these Lilac Wonders in the Palm Bed are better protected.

Numerous daffodils flourish,

as do forget-me-nots, wallflowers, and our first bluebells.

A range of camellias continue to carpet the ground beneath them.

It was definitely warm enough for shirt sleeves – and for me.

This afternoon, while Dillon was passing his driving test, I watched the Women’s Six Nations rugby matches between Scotland and France and between England and Wales.

Becky came home with Dillon and we all dined on another of Jackie’s cottage pies, carrots, runner beans, and broccoli stems, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Sangiovese & Syrah Toscana.

This evening we all dined on (another of Jackie’s cottage pies, carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli stems, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Sangovese/Syrah red wine) Merril’s comment exposes why the section in brackets was added.

Spring Drizzle

Once again I stayed inside with Vanity Fair, until a lull in the drizzle outside led me to photograph the signs of life.

Many of the new shoots, moss, blooms, in or out of season, and even a fresh white feather, bore jewels of nurturing precipitation. Clicking on any image will access the gallery in which each photo bears a title.

This evening Jackie and I dined on chicken Kiev, chips, and peas, with which she drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I drank La Petite Pierre vin rouge 2022.

Somewhat Shamefaced

A member of the Britannia Thai staff having left a message on Ian’s answerphone to say that they had found my lens cap, I collected it this afternoon.

Jackie drove me via Angel Lane, like many others bearing the deposits of last night’s overnight rain, now desisted, but, as we discovered, also leaving the

moorland more waterlogged and many trees in standing water providing temporary accommodation for mallards.

Primroses like those along Royden Lane, and daffodils along Church Lane with its ancient mossy verges lined our route to Pilley,

where ponies enjoyed foraging on the green where a brisk breeze dried their hair,

and damp donkeys disrupted the traffic along Jordans Lane.

We have all been wondering why I have not received the results of my DNA test allegedly registered with Ancestry on 4th January .

This afternoon Becky and Flo decided to investigate, and discovered that I misinformed all my blogging friends on the above highlighted post by boasting that I had successfully registered when in fact all I had done was register an account with Ancestry DNA and my spit has not been registered. It has, however, been stored somewhere and from today, since the ladies have made a better job than I, it has been activated; the results should be communicated by e-mail in about two months time.

I now feel somewhat shamefaced for bragging about my prowess.

This evening we all dined on moist roast chicken, crisp roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding; crunchy carrots, firm Brussels sprouts; and tender runner beans, with tasty gravy. Jackie drank Western Cape Sauvignon Blanc 2023, and I drank Mighty Murray shiraz.

A Bridge For Tootlepedal

Soon after lunch on this cold-sunshine day I walked around the garden and photographed

a few flowers, namely daffodils and a cluster of blue wood anemones.

Afterwards, stopping at Gregg’s bakers for Jackie to replenish the sweet trolley. While waiting outside, through the car windscreen, the laundrette window, and some reflections, I was entranced by

a rather noble hooded face.

On our journey north the roads and terrain, their waters replenished by two more days and nights of heavy precipitation, were as saturated as ever, but I chose not to focus directly on them on this occasion.

A tyre swing above the rippling and swollen River Avon was now swinging underwater with the force of the current sweeping from the

bubbling Woodgreen millstream, alongside which

a soft toy lounged on a bench and a stump creature reared its head.

As I rounded the broken corner of the bridge wall into which someone had crashed,

Jackie was herself photographing the river encroaching upon the car park; the bridge for Tootlepedal; and me on the bridge watching

the rippling waters.

Ponies, dogs, and walkers basked on Woodgreen, where a glorious magnolia spread in the garden of a thatched cottage. The last pair of ponies in this gallery were depicted by Jackie.

Trees against the clouds at Hale included those sporting their usual crops of mistletoe.

Ferns flourished on a bank cropped by soggy donkeys. While I was photographing these I heard the clopping of hooves further down the road , and turned to see

these berugged horses being led to their paddock beside the ford.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s beef and onion or chicken pies, according to choice; boiled potatoes, tender runner beans, and carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli al dente. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Reserva Privada Chilean Malbec 2022.

Not Yet March

Before the rain returned for the day, a walk round the garden this grey, finger nipping, morning revealed

a good selection of camellias in a range of pinks;

plenty of flourishing lichen;

many still flowering snowdrops;

fallen leaves supported by Angel’s Wings;

dancing daffodils;

sheltered cyclamen;

mossy logs;

some hellebore heads held high;

even a bee clinging to clematis Cirrhosa Freckles.

Soon after 2 p.m. when we drove to Walkford for niece Jane’s 40th birthday party at Shelly and Ron’s, essential headlights bejewelled golden droplets in waves thrown up by other vehicles splashing through the increasing puddles, still more swollen by the incessant deluge on our return three hours later. We enjoyed a range of sandwiches, quiches, and other plentiful snacks; and a birthday cake made by Shelly. We enjoyed catching up with the various family members. A variety of beers and wines was on offer. No further sustenance was required later.

Becky’s Biology Lesson

Despite the dreary drizzle-day and thanks to Martin’s weeks of clearance work in the beds there is now no corner of the garden not

brightened by snowdrops and more.

As usual clicking on any image will access the gallery, each item of which can be enlarged and bears a title; some also bearing bumble bees which yesterday had sped freely around the garden. Today, motionless, they cling to a number of plants from which they had sought sustenance then. When I mentioned this to Becky she explained that these insects, not having skeletons, contain fluid beneath their flesh which in cold weather coagulates causing a state of somnolence until liquifying once more on warming up.

Ian returned from Southbourne last night, in time to shop with Becky today for our dinner this this evening. They returned with 6 rib eye steaks; chips, and peas, which Becky cooked to perfection, according to individual choices; with M & S rice and bread and butter puddings to follow. I drank more of the Côtes du Rhône Villages