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In today’s gardening division of labour my contribution was weeding the back drive, while Jackie continued planting, weeding, and watering.
My main focus was on the bed alongside the new fence.
This involved clambering between dead stumps and the fencing and digging out stubborn brambles and sticky Willies. I had not anticipated needing to use a fork on all this, but, most unusually for April, there has been so little rain that the ground is rock hard. Consequently I didn’t get very far. For those readers interested in the scale of things this drive is 75 yards long and the width of a terraced house plot.
Jackie filled the Rose Garden urns – one on the brick pillar we have just rebuilt – with compost
in readiness for these lilies bought from the Hordle Post Office a couple of days ago.
Other plantings in the Oval and Elizabeth’s Beds and the Rose Garden are mostly represented by labels.
In this corner of the Palm Bed we have tulips; a yellow Japanese maple that clearly needs the pruning treatment;
and a pink rhododendron just coming into bud.
A yellow tree peony competes with the latter over which will be the first in full bloom.
Daffodils, honesty, and hellebores continue to thrive.
This cream verbascum stands on the Back Drive bed,
and this clematis Montana spills over the front garden wall,
behind which a yellow potentilla is flowering. Can you guess what, when I put the first of these pictures of it up on the screen, got me rushing out there?
This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, Garner’s pickled onions, and Tesco’s gherkins. I drank Doom Bar beer.
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This morning we continued tidying the garden.
The lovely daffodils occupying this old ginger jar have such long, slender, stems that they are unable to support their heavy heads in the garden. Jackie has therefore trimmed and rehoused them.
Here are some more tulips. The white ones are ‘Diamond Jubilee’.
Here are current views across the Cryptomeria Bed;
Margery’s Bed;
and the Weeping Birch Bed;
the pieris on the grass patch;
and an owl for Pauline.
Here are some daffodils from the front garden that have not been posted before;
and others with delicate salmon-pink trumpets. Jackie considers their yellow companions to be interlopers,
much like the white fritillary.
For the first time this year we took drinks in the rose garden before dinner. I hope it is not too long before Laurie and Clif can do the same on their patio. The clouds behind the weeping birch had a silver lining.
Our dinner this evening consisted of haddock fillets on a bed of spinach; creamy swede and potato mash; crunchy carrots and broccoli; and piquant cauliflower cheese. This was followed by rhubarb pie and custard. Jackie drank Côtes de Gascogne Cuvée Royale 2015 and I drank more of the merlot.
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This morning we continued Spring clearing in the garden. My task was dead heading the hydrangeas.
One of Jackie’s was to clean out the Waterboy’s pond. He nodded his approval.
The Head Gardener was extremely excited about her corydalis flexuosa ‘China Blue’ which is apparently hard to grow.
Another euphorbia is flowering in the front garden,
where the winter flowering cherry has blushed continuously since September.
Sitting on the Castle Bench when I had finished my gardening I engaged in a game of peep-bo with a collared dove in a shrub that has become a tree. This creature kept lowering its head out of sight, then popping up briefly.
At least, that is what I thought I was playing. But, hang on a minute. What was this?
Do you see?
Yes. There were two. I had been playing gooseberry.
Sussed.
This afternoon we went for a drive in the forest.
The Shirley Holms corner beyond Sway is still pretty waterlogged.
These young ponies found a dry patch to have a lie down;
although my attention prompted the larger one, looking almost as awkward as I would, to rise to its feet.
As I returned to the car, two pigeons took off into the skies.
Primroses decorated the bank of a stream by the roadside at Sandy Down,
where horses in a field chewed hay,
and snake’s head fritillaries shared berths with daffodils and more primrose.
Steff’s Kitchen is attached to Fairweather’s Garden Centre in Beaulieu. We took coffee and water there, where a magnificent magnolia stellata shed confetti over the tables and the grounds.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s beef, peppers, mushrooms and onions cooked in a rich red wine sauce and served with new potatoes, carrots, and Yorkshire pudding. I drank more of the shiraz.
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Aaron, Jackie, and I continued tidying up the garden this morning.
Daffodils still glow all over;
the new generation of honesty crops up everywhere;
and the Anemone albas are spreading nicely in the Weeping Birch Bed.
Jackie has weeded around and cleaned the little cistern pond, thus revealing the frogs and Jattie’s sculpture.
The lamp glowing in the sunlight is one of the snake’s head fritillaries Jackie has added to those already shining in the Cryptomeria Bed.
A peacock butterfly tried in vain to look invisible on the gravel of the Heligan Path which joins
the south end of the Brick Path.
Bees continue to plunder the pulmonaria.
I had a fairly lengthy conversation with a young collared dove taking advantage of Aaron’s fencing.
Wood pigeons
and sparrows were far too busy gathering nesting material to chat.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious lamb jalfrezi and special fried rice; followed by apple pie and custard.. She drank sparkling water and I drank Cimarosa limited edition Shiraz 2014.
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Today began dark, wet, and windy. Thinking we would be unable to do much more in the garden we transported the results of yesterday’s crab apple pruning to Efford Recycling Centre.
As is the Head Gardener’s wont, she bought two more fibreglass faux terra cotta plant pots from the sales area.
The sun did put in brief appearance this afternoon, so I was able to present a snapshot of the first official day of Spring.
Jackie has also started buying plants, like these violas,
and these snake’s head fritillaries just plonked in an urn for the moment.
Both are visible in this shot of the kitchen bed.
These camellias shed their confetti-like petals on the Dead End Path.
Others are visible on either side of the decking in this view beyond Margery’s Bed;
more in the Palm Bed;
and beside the Head Gardener’s walk which also displays cyclamens.
These two were buried in darkness when we arrived three years ago. Now they are able to flower,
being visible from across the Dragon Bed.
Figures lining the walk include dragons and a cherub.
There are, of course, hellebores and daffodils everywhere;
and pulmonaria, such as these clambering over a brick boundary.
A small mahonia planted last year is thriving along the back drive,
where a periwinkle has been stencilled on our neighbours’ wall.
A little bit of luck is essential to a successful photoshoot. As I was focussing on the garden it was appropriate that mine today should be blooming.
I was unhappy with my first shot at the epimediums, so I went back out to make some more efforts.
Then came my first ‘little bit o’ bloomin’ luck’. A bee had decided it was now warm and dry enough to flit from bloom to bloom.
As I clicked away at this insect, I received a second stroke. More clicking above my head alerted me to the fact that a pair of long-tailed tits were using the weeping birch branches as trapezes.
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Before settling down to an afternoon of vicarious rugby on the television, I wandered round the garden and picked a virtual bunch of varieties of daffodil.
Here it is.
The Six Nations rugby matches were Scotland v. Italy at Murrayfield; France v. Wales in Paris televised by BBC; and finally Ireland v. England in Dublin on ITV.
As is my normal practice, I won’t reveal the results of these games, but I cannot remain totally silent about the second match, certainly the longest and most bizarre I have ever seen. A rugby match lasts 80 minutes. In certain situations it may continue until a natural stoppage after full time. This would normally be no more than 2 or 3 minutes. The first 79 minutes of this contest were most unmemorable. There then followed 21 further minutes, including struggles a few metres from one try line, a certain number of offences, a sending off, some replacements, and perhaps a cheeky bit of cheating involving a team doctor. That will probably never be forgotten.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabiata with mange toutes and rocket salad, followed by tiramisu. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I abstained because I had drunk a bottle of Doom Bar whilst watching the rugby.
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This morning’s dawn promised a better day than forecast.
And so it proved, at least for the first hour or so. I took an early ramble round the garden on which more light was cast than yesterday. This brought forth an open-mouthed gape from a bespectacled gentleman atop the skeletal honesty in the Weeping Birch Bed.
Camellias and hellebores were nicely backlit in some areas.
Here is the view from Fiveways;
bergenia, daffodils, and hellebores in a corner of the Dead End Path;
and more hellebores, alliums, and vincas.
Jackie is particularly delighted with the daphne odora Aureomarginata that she put in last year. It is apparently quite a fussy plant.
When shopping at Lidl this morning, Jackie had spotted that the supermarket was selling very reasonably priced wheelbarrows. She drove me back there to buy one. After this we travelled on to Friars Cliff for me to post, into one of the beach huts, the prints I had made of photographs taken of two little girls on the beach on 24th February.
On one side of Christchurch Road stretches a number of extensive fields which, at this time of the year are occupied by hundreds of ewes and lambs. On the other, in front of a farmhouse, is a much smaller rectangular enclosure, not much more than a fold, really. We have always thought of that as the nursery for very newborn lambs before their decanting across the road. Today we saw confirmation of this.
The most recent arrivals and their mothers could be seen through the fencing bars. The rolled folds in the babies’ skin demonstrated their newness. Already, just like the grown sheep, they were stamped with identification numbers.
Even so young, some of the lambs were as inquisitive as the ewes,
whereas others and their mothers were not quite so sure.
As we arrived, a farmer drove a large tractor and long trailer from the farmyard, around a bend in the road, and through an open gate into the field opposite. He proceeded to unload his cargo of ewes and their lambs,
which were very soon suckling fit to fill out those rolls of skin.
The farmer was very gentle with his charges, even when offering a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘giving it some welly’, as he encouraged a reluctant little one to join its patiently waiting mother.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s pasta arrabbiata, sugar snap peas, and rocket salad, followed by tiramisu. I drank more of the Fleurie and the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden.
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It is perhaps no bad thing that the sun went AWOL today. This is because we spent the morning on spring clearance, and in the afternoon there wasn’t much light shone on what still needs to be done. Nevertheless I wandered around to capture images of the current state of play.
Here we have the result of Aaron’s work on the back drive. In the second picture daffodils and vincas are thriving.
Daffodils and camellias appear in most of the views, like this one that sculptured Florence looks upon,
and these from different sides of the Palm Bed.
Hellebores, such as these in the Kitchen Bed are also ubiquitous.
The Head Gardener’s Walk adds cyclamens to the mix.
We’ll get around to the Cryptomeria
and Weeping Birch Beds soon.
Jackie has spent some time clearing out the hanging baskets and pots
and tidying the patio.
The previously scarcely-existent front garden has bedded in well, euphorbias standing sentinel,
and daffodils, primulas, and hellebores adding colour.
The Monday Pie of our childhoods followed the Sunday roast meal. This was the left-over beef or lamb minced up in a Spong and turned into cottage or shepherd’s pie. Jackie has her own version. I know it isn’t Monday, but then her roast dinners are not confined to Sundays, and we enjoyed roast lamb yesterday. Her pie, on which we dined this evening, consists of the meat coated in gravy, wrapped in tin foil, and heated through very slowly in the oven. This renders it superbly succulent. The dish is topped with roast potatoes and mushrooms. Today it was served with sage and onion stuffing, carrots, cabbage, and green beans. With this, Jackie drank Hoegaarden. My choice was Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2014.
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This morning we carried bags of rubble from the fireplace work, neatly stacked by Barry and Owen, to the Efford Recycling Centre. In the car, of course. It is a sign of the times that what we could previously have placed in the dump’s large skip free of charge today cost us £12.50. One more public service commercialised by outsourcing to a private company. It seems that less and less is covered by our Council tax rates.
Afterwards we headed into the forest and investigated Horseshoe Bottom. This idyllic bowl is frequented by dog walkers and basking ponies.
As we prepared to leave the car, a large black dog, complete with owner, bounded up the ridge surrounding the vehicles. As soon as it reached the grass, the animal crouched for a crap. The owner, hands firmly in his jacket pockets, turned his back and set off across the lovely terrain. The dog, now relieved, joined him. It was only as I stepped over the ridge that I realised that there was a row of similar turds requiring negotiation. Clearly numerous eager hounds had sought similar immediate convenience.
In order to spare my readers’ sensitivities, I have not photographed the fresher excreta, but this shot shows a sun bleached deposit and a discarded snack packet.
One particular pair of ponies stayed together, moving to a safe distance at the sight of my camera lens.
A grey,
and a representative of a miniature breed kept their own individual company.
I was some distance from the first couple when they lurched awkwardly to the ground to lie in the sun and scratch their backs.
It was then that I noticed Jackie had left the car and was setting off gingerly down the slope.
She kept her eyes on the crows,
but steadfastly ignored a pony’s request to have its tummy tickled.
I wondered where she was off to.
She had decided to investigate what she thought was a stream at the bottom of the slope. It turned out contain fresh grass and a small pool. She thought the must be a winterbourne, which only fills after wet weather. Some areas are drying out now.
Bright sunshine set the gorse a-glowing.
Towards midday a number of ponies sat down and dozed.
On the outskirts of Burley, a pair of chestnuts bringing up the tail, a string of others queued patiently outside a house from which, they no doubt knew, a householder would soon emerge with lunch.
At Holmsley we diverted to:
An engraved map shows the location of the commemorated institutions.
The sensitively designed memorial contains a number of dedicated benches where visitors can reflect in peace,
and affixed to the railings are individual and group plaques of remembrance. That of Captain Darrell R. Lindsey stands alongside one for other members of the USAAF.
For anyone who does not quite understand today’s title, ‘the pond’ is an affectionate name for the Atlantic Ocean which lies between USA and UK.
It was perhaps appropriate that Jackie noticed a bird of prey circling overhead.
The gorse pictured above is one reminder that Susan Hill’s “yellow season” has arrived. Daffodils decorating the verges such as those along Beckley Common Road is another.
This evening we dined on roast lamb, Yorkshire pudding, tasty gravy, new potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and green beans, followed by apricot lattice flan. I finished the shiraz while Jackie drank sparkling water. Milford on sea still has a greengrocers. The quality of today’s vegetables shows the freshness of the shop’s produce.
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Today, I wandered around the garden contemplating spring clearing, and investigating what’s come up.
There are many different primulas;
borage;
pulmonaria;
snowdrops
and hellebores galore;
daffodils such as February Gold and Têtes-à-Têtes;
crocuses;
irises;
and cyclamen.
Views across the garden reveal most of these plants, and what needs to be done. Here we stand on the Brick Path to the left of the Heligan one.
The Phantom Path runs alongside Margery’s Bed.
This is the Palm Bed;
and this the Heligan Path winding between the Cryptomeria and Weeping Birch Beds.
This afternoon Jackie lopped the branches off the Christmas tree and filled an orange bag with those and the campaniflora clematis cuttings.
Roast lamb served with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, crunchy carrots, cauliflower and green beans was Jackie’s meal this evening. I had some, too. This was followed by lemon meringue pie and cream. I drank Vacqueras cru des Côtes du Rhône 2015.
