dawn – derrickjknight

33 Hours From Dawn To Sunset

The gales were back in force today, with 50 m.p.h. winds and driving rain – so much so that it was hard to remember

yesterday’s dawn

when we set off for a forest drive in headlights-gloom at 3 p.m.

Some 30 minutes later brief glimpses of blue sky and white cloud ripped indigo canopies above

the rippling reflections of waterlogged roadside verges along St Leonards Road.

where damp ponies

listlessly trudged

past the ruins of the 13th century granary barn that once served Beaulieu Abbey.

Sunset was visible at East Boldre just after 4 p.m. Later the rains hammered down once more.

This evening we all dined on chicken pieces marinaded in mango piri-piri sauce and Jackie’s savoury vegetable rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Côtes du Rhône. Everyone else abstained.

Flamboyant

As so often, this morning, the few minutes during which I sought my camera, was sufficient to turn

the gorgeously glowing lambent flames of the dawn skies

into pale pastel pinks and indigos.

Later, Martin, lighting a bonfire in a rusty wheelbarrow, no longer fit for purpose, now serving as an incinerator

stood between the flickering kindling and the flamboyant foliage of creeping Virginia vine,

stoking the open furnace with

a week’s clippings.

Becky brought Flo, Dillon, and Ellie back from Eastbourne this afternoon, stayed a while, then returned to her own home.

This evening we dined on a Red Chilli takeaway meal with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cariñena Monte Plogar Gran Reserva 2016. The young couple ate later.

No Room For Me In A Car

Dawn opened a pink and indigo awning over our Old Post House this morning.

Later, we drove to Shelly and Ron’s home in Glenville Road, Walkford where the three Rivett sisters and their spouses gathered for the annual laying of the tribute wreath for the ladies’ mother in Hinton Woodland Burial Ground.

After mulled wine and nibbles I walked with Ron along Glenville Road and turned left to the

drive to the burial ground where a recently downed tree had been hauled to the verge.

The others passed us and arrived at

Mum’s plot first.

We gathered together to pay our respects.

I could not manage to walk all the way back, and it amused my sisters-in-law to announce that there would be no room for me in a car. Fortunately they were only joking, and I just had to

retrace my steps to the car park.

Back at Glenville Road Shelly produced a splendid meal of succulent beef stew; creamy mashed potato and swede; tender green beans, firm cauliflower and broccoli, followed by a mixed fruit crumble and cream or custard according to preference. Red and white wines were imbibed, and after coffee we enjoyed conversation on a wide range of topics.

Needless to say no further sustenance was required when we returned home.

Cutting Out The Middle Man?

Early this morning, Jackie photographed the first welcoming dawn we have experienced for a while.

The sunshine lived up to its promise as I wandered around photographing clumps of cheerful snowdrops; bunches of daffodils including tete-a-tetes; bright cyclamen; a variety of abundant hellebores which retained raindrops; and prolific shrubs such as camellias and viburnum. To make room for these images I have begun thinning out some 35,000 photographs in my Mac photo collection.

While I was enjoying myself drafting this post Jackie worked to unblock the shower drain. This afternoon we visited Streets in Brockenhurst to buy cleaning materials, and returned by a slightly circuitous route.

Much of the forest, like this area near Woodfidley, is still waterlogged. Reflective pools bear fallen trees. Still-standing oaks dip mossy toes into clear, still, surface water.

We stopped again at East End to photograph a pony busy trimming a prickly hedge.

Across the road two somewhat battle-scarred bays stood beside East Boldre allotments land. A notice informed visitors that the ponies inside were meant to be there and asked that they should not be fed. Was this, I wondered, a method of cutting out the compost middle man?

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie served with tasty gravy; flavoursome broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and carrots. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Barossa Valley Shiraz 2017.

Clear Water

Pink sky streaks sent me out in the bright, chill, morning with my camera,

and perhaps led me to the hues of gladiolus, Dr Ruppel, Mamma Mia, Lady Emma Hamilton, this particular climbing rose, pelargonium, and carpet rose.

High up in the copper beech I think it was a blackbird serenading.

We took an early drive into the forest, and, enabling me to wander around the banks of Ibsley Water, Jackie parked her modus near the ford.

Angled sunlight cast long reflections on the rippling surface and penetrated the clear water to the shingle bed.

The gnarled oaks beneath Rockford Sand Pit have almost shed their foliate canopies.

While Jackie sat in the car an inquisitive jackdaw eavesdropped on her

animated conversation with a friendly robin. Our red-breasted friends do seem to be lingering in the woodlands.

Elizabeth visited us this evening and stayed for dinner which consisted of Jackie’s wholesome shepherd’s pie; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and cauliflower, with meaty gravy, followed by apple and gooseberry crumble and custard. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and my sister and I drank Adam Mason South African Merlot 2019.

They Left Their Mark

We have an old saw that states “Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight, red sky in the morning shepherd’s warning”. This certainly rang true today. Jackie had only a few minutes to photograph a

rosy pink dawn. Afterwards there was barely a tinge left for Florence sculpture’s portrait.

On this decidedly dank, dismal, day, Aaron, Mark, and Steve lopped two trees and removed another,

leaving their initials on the stump.

In a little more than half a day, the A.P. Maintenance team carried out this task, leaving the garden as if they had never been here except for

the neatly piled debris on the back drive. Because Aaron’s van is still in hospital they could not remove all this until it is back on the road.

This process is well choreographed, each man knowing his specific tasks.

Mark wielded the chain saw, first from the shed roof, then whilst climbing the trees.

Because the first holly seriously threatened the shed it was cut down and shaved to the level of the initialled image above.

Aaron received Mark’s cut branches, sometimes catching them from him as they were tossed down;

he and Steve gathered them together

and toted them down the garden to the neatly stacked piles.

The second holly and a sweet smelling bay tree were left standing but considerably reduced in height.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata with minced beef, followed by unusually spicy custard tart which, had she remembered to include the extra prepared ingredient, would have been pumpkin pie, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.

John’s Bedroom

The moon still shone brightly as Jackie went out to photograph

the pastel pink dawn

as it tinted the roof tiles over the gabled bedroom that harboured John Corden on his recent visit.

Although we had suffered a little more damage such as fallen pots, supports, and owls on the decking,

the camellias continue to proliferate.

These views along and beyond the Head Gardener’s Walk show snowdrops, bergenias, camellias, and primulas,

another row of which, happily hindered by Nugget,

Jackie planted this morning. The labels lying on the soil are marking lily and gladiolus bulbs also inserted therein.

“Where’s Nugget?” (66).

The Assistant Photographer produced all these photographs, including this lovely composition of

cyclamens, vinca, and cherub sculpture.

This evening for dinner, Jackie produced baked gammon; piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; and sautéed leeks mixed with chopped cabbage. I finished the Squinzano and Jackie abstained.

Comparatively Unscathed

Jackie produced a few photographs of dawn this morning.

Although the skies would darken with rain squalls and the windspeed increase at intervals after lunch the morning was brighter and the speed 45 m.p.h.

I toured the garden investigating what turned out to be very little damage.

The patio planters in front of the French windows were unscathed;

a few pots, like this one on the Kitchen Path,

and this beneath the clematis Cirrhosa Freckles, had toppled;

a few slender branches had been ripped from the copper beech and the weeping birch;

the already disintegrating rose arch had lost a piece of its top;

the back drive gate had shed some of its screen;

empty compost bags had been blown about a bit;

but many areas, such as the Shady Path were unscathed.

Nugget’s Wisteria Arbour was intact. “Where’s Nugget?” (67)

This afternoon the weather alternated between dark sleet showers and bursts of sunshine during which

darting blue tits took what opportunities they could to grab a peck

between those squabbling sparrow trapeze artists swinging on the swaying feeders

from which they spilled more than they consumed.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata plentifully packed with peppers, mushrooms, onions and garlic. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Rearing Hellebores

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The first clear sky at dawn for some time promised a sunny day which was appreciated by the garden, especially the winter flowering cherry that has been blooming for seven months now.

Sunshine, shadows, and birdsong returned to the garden paths.

Cryptomeria and eucalyptus trees from the antipodes brightened considerably.

Some of the hellebores even reared their heads.

Bright yellow mahonia blended with paler daffodils.

Although those nearer the soil were a little mud-spattered, primulas that had drooped a little now stood proud.

This afternoon Margery and Paul paid a visit as congenial as ever.

Afterwards Jackie drove me to catch the last post at Everton Post Office and on into the forest. Much of the terrain was still waterlogged, but the ford at Brockenhurst was dry.

This evening we dined on the second half of the smaller of Jackie’s splendid beef pies; served with crisp carrots and Brussels sprouts; and sautéed potatoes, peppers, and onions. I drank Serabel Lirac 2015.

“Google It”

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Soon after 8 a.m. pink fingers groped along the light grey clouds over Downton

while the sun itself remained largely out of sight behind trees. Slowly the sky brightened, but that was the last glimpse of the sun, and rain set in at noon.

This morning I finished writing the Christmas cards, and posted them on the way to lunch at Helen and Bills home at Poulner, where we were joined by Shelly and Ron.

A hold up on Ringwood Road turned out to have been caused by an injured deer seated on the verge, and attended by a couple beside a stationary car with its hazard lights flashing.

Crow Lane crows

On the corner of Crow Lane a murder of the birds perched in a tree.

Ron, Shelly, Jackie, Derrick, Bill

Helen took this photograph of the rest of us tucking into her intriguing pork roasted with fruit including oranges and prunes; roast potatoes and parsnips, asparagus, runner beans, cauliflower, and carrots with red onions. The excellent fare was enhanced by very tasty gravy.

During the meal, crackers were pulled with a certain amount of trepidation; the contents being investigated with both interest and glee.

We had been greeted with warm punch on arrival and red and white wines were consumed with the dinner. A remarkably light steamed ginger pudding and soft, firm, raspberry mousse were the desserts.

We continued with animated conversation. In order to demonstrate that we are very firmly established in the 21st century, whenever we were either at a loss for, or in disagreement about a fact or opinion, someone was bound to say “Google it”.