daisies – derrickjknight

Down To The Lakes At Iris Time

After an uneventful forest drive when no-one was about,

Jackie and I brunched at the Lakeview Café beside Orchard Lakes.

Before we ate, I walked around the pair of manmade lakes circled by banks of buttercups, daisies, and dandelions, bordered by hedges hosting may blossom; with scattered lifebelts placed in case someone fell in, the water was the fixed focus of attention of carefully socially distanced silently reflecting elderly gentlemen gazing into the depths in hopes of a tug at their periodically adjusted line or a tell-tale surface ripple signalling a flailing finny catch.

It may be lilac time at Kew, but here it is the time for yellow flag irises.

With the rest of the family all out for the day, and having seen our brunch, no-one will be surprised that Jackie and I enjoyed small amounts of left-overs this evening – mine our takeaway curry, and Jackie oven fish and chips – with which she drank more of the Zesty and I drank Moerbei Testarosso Sangiovese 2020

Garden Flowers

This afternoon I watched the Women’s Six Nations rugby matches between England and France and between Wales and Italy. I lost a bet on the first game, the penalty being that I have buy a curry.

During the half time break in that contest I photographed a few flowers in the garden. Each image is entitled in the gallery. They include Welsh poppies, daisies, tulips Lilac Wonder, rhododendron buds, Camass,hellebores, euphorbia, wallflowers, heuchera leaves, and libertia.

Later I converted the last two posts of May 2014 from Classic to Block edits and changed their categories to Garden:

‘Last One To The Chimney Pot’s A Sissy’

Over The Fence

This evening we all dined on pizzas and fresh salad, with which I did not imbibe because I had drunk Doom Bar while watching the rugby.

Grooming

This afternoon I finally managed to post completed forms to Mum’s Bank and to the Premium Bonds Centre in order to release funds for distribution to the legatees.

I popped them into the normally decorated box on Pilley Hill. No doubt the anonymous knitter is between tribute designs.

Buttercups and daisies carpet the bank behind the letter box.

Apple blossom blooms beside the lake,

which bears water buttercups and reflections.

Ponies, including a pair mutually grooming, occupied Bull Hill. Note that flies, on this heavily overcast, warmer, day have begun to descend on these creatures.

One cow alongside Beaulieu Road admired its reflection while across the road another undertook its own lonely grooming.

A group of ponies disturbing the traffic at East Boldre included one animal clearly too short to keep out of mud when entering a pool.

This evening Jackie produced a superb roast pork meal including crunchy crackling; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; tasty sage and onion stuffing; firm cauliflower, broccoli and carrots; tender cauliflower leaves; meaty gravy, and Bramley apple sauce, with which she drank Hoegaarden, I drank Calvet Prestige Bordeaux 2020, and Flo drank water. Creamy rice pudding was to follow.

Spot The Ball

After a Tesco shop this afternoon Jackie drove me into the forest.

Along Holmsley Road we had plenty of time to watch the ponies inside an elongated Emlor Polo horse box as the driver executed an impressive reverse.

Daises covered the lumpy terrain of Mill Lane with its reflecting pools; its gorse enhanced woodland; and its decaying fallen tree limbs.

The grassland levelled out enabled these family groups to play cricket with a tennis racket and ball. Enlarging these shots will enable readers to enter the Spot the Ball competition exemplified by the last three images. Give yourselves extra points for spotting number two.

This lane forms a T junction with Lyndhurst Road, the verges of which one of our familiar groups of ponies kept tidy until they became bored and decided to wind up the traffic.

From Lyndhurst Road we turned into Forest Road where water buttercups pierce the layers of pondweed in a pool; mossy fallen branches make their way to merging with the soil beneath;

and ponies crop the grass beside a forded stream

which an escorted little boy investigates with a fishing net.

This evening we dined on oven fish and chips, mushy peas, pickled onion and cucumbers, with which the three older members of the household drank Picpoul de Pinet white wine 2020.

Setting Up For The Day

What do you do when you wake up with no internet on the first day of a gloriously sunny bank holiday weekend? And you don’t get it back until 5 p.m?

Speaking for ourselves, we were in the car soon after 8 a.m, beginning with a trip to Milford on Sea Pharmacy.

A blue clematis on the front garden trellis accompanies pink rosebuds.

Thrift, buttercups, and daisies line both sides of the coast road and the cliff edges,

which have suffered further erosion, as demonstrated by the barriers round the steps to the shore.

Jackie parked beside a marigold lined wall in De La Warr Road for me to photograph the thrift.

We anticipated that Mudeford Quay would be flooded with visitors today, but continued our journey to there hoping to be ahead of most of them.

Already, camper vans and many other vehicles were parked and arriving in steady streams.

Various groups were setting up for the day.

A trio of girls still had room to practise cartwheels.

While I was taking these photographs, Jackie couldn’t park, so had to keep moving. When she spotted me and slowed down for me to rejoin her, she was called “a fucking mad cow” by a following driver. It was perhaps a good thing that I didn’t hear this.

Afterwards we visited Ferndene Farm Shop to buy compost and more plants.

This afternoon I read enough of ‘Nicholas Nickleby’ to scan the next ten of Charles Keeping’s illustrations. I could do this off-line, but could neither write the captions nor put them into WordPress. That will have to wait until tomorrow.

This evening we dined on tangy basil-flavoured lasagne and plentiful fresh salad, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

Further Along Forest Road

Today there was still a chill in the air, which became more overcast with sunny periods as it went on.

After lunch we drove into the forest. As so often on a dull day we thought we may not find much of photographic interest, until the sun and

our little group of equine friends found beside the stream at the junction of Chapel Lane and Forest Road took pity on us.

The rippling stream bore reflections;

The trees through which the assorted ponies could be viewed bore moss and lichen;

the ground underfoot bore celandines, dandelions, violets, and daisies.

More reflections and water crowfoot (buttercups) adorned the pool further along Forest Road, beyond which

I gazed across the layered landscape.

This evening we enjoyed breaded mushrooms with Jackie’s hot and spicy pasta arrabbiata and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I partook of Mendoza El Tesoro Red Blend 2019.

The Ploughed Field

On another sunny but cold day of clear cerulean skies I walked further along Roger Cobb’s footpath and back.

While traversing the garden into Downton Lane I paused to photograph species tulips Lilac Wonder, forget-me-nots, and daffodils vying for space in the Palm Bed.

These three cyclists left the required amount of space as they skirted round me on the lane

where cow parsley,

bluebells, daisies,

and dandelions dominate the verges.

The fence beside number 21’s driveway bears careful, considerate, Easter greetings.

Residents of houses on Christchurch Road can now contemplate the crops to be sown in

the field I saw being ploughed from through the hedge of Honeylake Wood a few days ago.

Sawtoothed tractor tracks made tough travelling on parts of the footpath.

At the edge of the field alongside the wood I met two more neighbours I had never seen before. They had not taken this walk since coming here 20 years ago.

The couple had emerged from the kissing gate leading to the footpath between the wood and the field. We chatted for a while at a safe distance from each other until

they went on ahead of me back the way I had come.

More cow parsley,

and stitchwort lined the footpath back to Downton Lane.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie; crunchy carrots and cauliflower with tender cabbage. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Fleurie.

The Oval Bed Today

The earlier third of the day was overcast but warm.

On my way through the garden to set out on a walk down

Downton Lane

I photographed several newly opened tulips,

one of which bore a sleepy bee.

Even 30 m.p.h. on our eponymous winding lane is probably too fast at any time, yet it seems necessary to reinforce the limit with plenty of notices along the way.

Prolific primroses,

golden dandelions,

dancing daffodils,

and buttery celandines bear out Susan Hill’s view of spring as ‘the yellow season’ expressed in ‘The Magic Apple Tree’.

Along with hardy white daisies

and rambling purple vinca, they decorate the burgeoning verges,

while bristling blackthorn

adorns the hedgerows.

A felled tree hosts ageing tree fungus.

The downward stretch of Downton Lane is a mostly manageable gently sloping descent.

I turned back at the steepest bend

and made my way home.

A pair of friendly cyclists, two abreast, had at least crossed to the other side as they passed me but I did wonder whether I should carry an estate agent’s snazzy measuring device to ensure a safe distance in these self-isolating times.

On 27th March Jackie had begun revamping the Oval Bed which she photographed.

Later this afternoon she produced images of her finished work.

She also photographed these leaves of crocosmia and day lilies,

and aroused bronze fennel setting off to soar above prize primroses and primulas.

This evening we dined on roasted sausages and new potatoes served on a bed of fried onions; a soft melange of cabbage and leeks; tender runner beans; and crunchy carrots with tasty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Benguela Bay Shiraz 2018.

Jackie’s having to add a little oil to the sausages because they held no fat reminded us of the gristly and cereal-filled apologies that had put us off bangers for life when we were young. Walls offerings were the anathema of our childhood. It was in France that I first experienced sausages with sufficient meat content.

In The Soup

It is not unusual for us to be held up at Brockenhurst’s railway level crossing. This morning, on the way to visit Mum, was no exception. I had ample opportunity to photograph some roadside dandelions.

As we approached Woodpeckers Care Home we noticed a crocodile of preschool children with a number of adult attendants walking purposefully along Sway Road. When they stopped and were escorted across the road we realised that their destination was the same as ours. Here was another example of the thoughtful care that has gone into this provider. These little ones were to be joined by a number of junior schoolchildren who spent their time dashing round the path encircling a small lawn. We, and any resident able and interested to watch from their window, were able to watch this exuberant activity. The staff members told me that, every Friday, the children visit the home for community activities, sometimes engaging directly with the residents. This would be admirable reminiscence therapy.

I then related a similar activity I initiated in my Southwark Social Services office in about 1973. Our building was an old Town Hall used for several different purposes. One was an elderly persons’ lunch club. On one particular day a distressed mother had abandoned three children in our waiting room. How were we to look after them while we traced their mother? An idea came to me. I suggested the lunch club members were asked for volunteers to child sit. There was much competition for the honour. Three able women took care of the children until they were eventually returned to their mother.

The next day our helpers came knocking to ask if we had any more youngsters needing care.

Mum was looking well and settled today. She was pleased to say that the papers had all been signed to confirm her permanent stay.

Honeysuckle climbs a trellis opposite the front door;

despite their similarity to forget-me-nots, these little blue flowers beside a later flowering tulip, are brunnera; daisies speckle the sward beside the ditch just outside the entrance gate.

Grazing ponies graced the moorland on the approach to Hatchet Pond, where

little white flowers crept over the water and a woman wandered with a mobile phone.

At East Boldre I photographed ponies and gorse on the moor, where the trees are all now in leaf.

I crossed the road to take the close-up of the gorse. Note that I have mounted the slight slope leading with the right, recently operated, leg. This is not yet a good idea, as the knee was quick to point out.

The Assistant Photographer was on hand to catch me in the act.

On the waterlogged corner with St Leonards Road we spotted a bay pony with its nose in the soup.

This evening we dined on lemon chicken; potatoes roasted with leaks; remarkably tasty carrots; and firm cauliflower and broccoli with which I finished the Merlot Syrah and Jackie drank Hoegaarden.

Expect Equine Visitors

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN A GROUP TO ACCESS ITS GALLERY, INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS OF WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE BY SCROLLING DOWN AND CHECKING BOX AT BOTTOM RIGHT

With yesterday’s snow now but a memory, today held a real promise of spring.

The Culinary Queen made us a picnic lunch,

half of which we consumed in Whitemoor Pool car park, which, in common with all other such New Forest facilities offers a really rocky ride from the road, riddled as it is with murky pothole pools. Ponies had been there before us.

On our way to the moors, we had enjoyed the drive along Lower Sandy Down where primroses, daisies, and crocuses thrust through the cropped sward on the shadow-striated banks of its clear, flowing, stream. One garden contained a huge fallen tree.

Just outside Brockenhurst, I hoped the stains streaking the backs of the legs of a runner towing his dog was mud thrown up by his trainers from the soggy terrain.

As opined by Jackie, if you live in a New Forest village you must expect equine visitors to you garden or any patch of grass outside. So it is with Brockenhurst, where ponies basked in the welcome sunshine.

Back home, a wander around the garden with its own early afternoon shadows, made clear that our plants have all survived.

We dined this evening on Jackie’s succulent pork chops flavoured with mustard and topped with almonds; crispy roasted potatoes; crunchy carrots and broccoli; and red cabbage, peppers and onions in red wine, with which I finished the Chateauneuf.