erigeron – Page 3 – derrickjknight

Late Summer Blooms

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While Jackie, weeded, watered, and planted, my main gardening task today was extensive dead-heading. If anyone spots any heads I’ve missed in the following photographs, I’ll thank you for not mentioning it.

We have many petunias. These, with geraniums and erigeron, grace the sitting room wall.

These, in a basket hanging over the shady path, blend well with a dangling fuchsia and lobelia above;

accompany begonias,

like these above the Dragon Bed,

or are planted in beds.

Dahlias, such as Bishop of Lllandaff,

and some I can’t identify are cropping up everywhere.

This last trio grace the West Bed alongside the Dead End Path.

A furry bee is cleverly camouflaged by the red and yellow one.

Other bees explore a carpet rose

and a salvia,

two varieties of which are potted at the corner of the Kitchen Bed.

These chrysanthemums speak to the phlox behind.

I have no idea how many geraniums fill this stone urn nearby. Last autumn they were all little broken stems that the Head Gardener stuck in soil and nurtured through the winter.

Hibiscuses and Japanese anemones such as these on opposite sides of the Brick Path are typical of late summer blooms.

Another happy juxtaposition is that of the penstemons and Festive Jewel in the Rose Garden.

The climbing fuchsia Lady in Black, against the pink hydrangea backdrop, has begun its ascent up the new arch beside the greenhouse;

while the White clematis climbing the obelisk in the Kitchen Bed still flowers.

Jackie has produced her own individual signage for our paths,

and such as the Cryptomeria.

Finally, here is a view across the Palm Bed.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s lemon chicken, breaded mushrooms, boiled potatoes, crunchy carrots, and crisp spring greens. One of the advantages of being a wine drinker is that, after a tipple on the patio, I have some left for my dinner. It doesn’t seem to work like that with Hoegaarden. I drank Cimarosa, reserva privada cabernet sauvignon 2012.

I Must Not Assume There Will Be No More Surprises

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It was very rash of me to assume that I would know the entirety of the group at our meal at Lal Quilla last night, and to predict what I would eat and drink.

On our entrance the staff, with their usual warm and friendly greeting, said that someone had telephoned the night before to add two people. We didn’t know anything about that, and in any case, Ian had made the booking. He had a quiet word with Raj and we were whisked to a larger pair of tables, according to the manager so we could spread ourselves out a bit. He presented us with a bottle of Beaujolais, so I did not drink Kingfisher. After a while I received a kiss on the cheek. Elizabeth had joined us. Soon afterwards, Danni and Andy came through the door. We were nine plus Poppy after all.

Finally, as we gathered ourselves to depart, a small cake with two lighted candles advanced towards our table followed by the entire staff group who led the family in singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.

I’ve no idea why I felt rather muzzy all day. I dozed through a bit of Wimbledon tennis on TV, and managed a little weeding, watering, eradicating a few brambles, and tidying up after Jackie’s work on the rose garden. We took a rest with water on the patio from which I enjoyed

This view across the Kitchen Bed with its day lilies in the foreground and verbenas in a hanging basket beyond;

pot planted petunias and geraniums over an erigeron carpet;

and self seeded mimuluses and feverfew.

A dahlia nods to the clematis on the wisteria arbour;

pink discias, red geraniums, and yellow bidens flow over the iron urn at the entrance to the Gazebo Path;

while blazing crocosmia Lucifer leads us into the Palm Bed.

As can be seen from this Special Anniversary rose, I haven’t dead-headed the Rose Garden today.

White solanum and a bright blue clematis stream down from the dead tree at the end of the Brick Path.

This evening we dined on Mr Chan’s Hordle Chinese Take Away with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank tap water.

The moral of this post is that when I say I will report on an outing the next day, I must not assume there will be no more surprises.

Is This The Beast?

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Yesterday evening, whilst having drinks on the patio, a steady chugging overhead made me feel rather queasy. It took me back to Cumbria in the 1990s.

As we were promised several hours of rain this afternoon, Jackie spent the morning watering the garden, and I took some photographs. The rain arrived just as Jackie had finished.

I’ll write that again. Because she is going away for three days with her sisters The Head Gardener spent the morning watering the garden. Although rain was expected it does not penetrate the soil in pots and hanging baskets.

My day was largely administrative, involving contacting Environmental Health about next door, visiting the Care Home on the other side of North Breeze to discuss this; arranging for delivery of the greenhouse; and having a meeting at the bank.

I rarely focus on the happy proximity of planting that we enjoy in the garden. Today I will begin with a view that meets us as we open the kitchen door. The erigeron in the foreground has, with Jackie’s midwifery, spawned offspring all over the garden. The petunias and geraniums in the various pots sit pleasingly together, and the tall verbena bonarensis, as it does everywhere, towers aloft.

Across the other side of the patio, petunias, cosmoses, and geranium palmatums blend well with the distant spirea, The contrasting bidens, like every other one in the garden, is self seeded from last year.

We are led back along the Kitchen Bed to this corner from verbenas, geraniums, cosmoses and bidens, through day lilies and more.

Various day lilies lurk behind more suspended blue and white petunias in the Dragon Bed,

pink and white varieties of which share their berth in the herbaceous border with blue and white lobelias,

and purple ones swing on the breeze in the company of bright marigolds and geraniums at the western end of the Phantom Path.

Others produce a white theme with marguerites, with dappled blue and white examples beneath.

A pink display is provided by more petunias, geraniums, and lobelia, more of the first two in the background with the red Japanese maple, rosa glauca against the fence and palmatums in the foreground.

Here, pink diascas are backed by the strident red bottle brush plant.

When the next two poppies open they will have something to say to these phlox.

Verbena bonarensis sentinels surround this Star of India clematis,

whereas Madame Julia Correvon cartwheels across the dead prunus pissardi towards phlox and penstemon.

Petunias hanging near the Brick Path repeat the purple of another Star of India.

This vibrant potted hydrangea reflects geranium palmatums in Elizabeth’s bed containing equally powerful day lilies.

A similar hydrangea takes the eye through red geraniums to a fuchsia Magellanica, with ferns, lobelias, and verbena bonarensis joining the party.

Further along the bed a cooler note is stuck by a paler hydrangea and geranium palmatums.

Two different begonia and lobelia combinations hang over the Brick

and Heligan Paths.

Jackie is particularly pleased with these California poppies grown from seed spilling over the rocks among the grasses on the Cryptomeria Bed.

The red and white of Super Elfin rambler and neighbouring snapdragons contrast like the emblems of Lancaster and York in England’s fifteenth century Wars of the Roses.

Further along the herbaceous border one can rest among poppies, petunias, lobelias, and verbenas.

Clematis Margaret Hunt frolics among verbena bonarensis in the Back Drive barrier.

As I reached the conclusion of this tour I came upon a surprise scampering among the shrubs, pattering across the patio, and hopping under a hole scooped out of the soil under the North Breeze fence. Was this The Beast that burrows into our garded? If so it will not be alone. This prompted my call to Environmental Health. They have already been alerted to the vermin. They are interested in rats. They are only interested in mice if they are indoors. They do not do rabbits.

This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips with our own pickled onions and gherkins Jackie drank Hoegaarden.

Defying Gravity

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Today I divided my time between wandering idly around the garden hunting down piles of weeds and clippings deposited by the Head Gardener; transferring four barrowloads of compost from the south end of the garden to the ficus hole in the Dragon Bed; and, of course, making photographs. Jackie continued with her weeding, clearing, and planting.

This view from the iron urn features two paths and the yellow bottle brush plant now coming into bloom. The chimney pot on the grass patch is still to receive its portion of the contents of the plant trays to be found in abundance.

These begonias are among those still to be given a tenancy.

This splendid rhododendron flanks the Phantom Path,

and has a happy relationship with a geranium palmatum,

one of many to be found all over the garden.

Rodgersias lurch across the older section of the Brick Path,

at the south end of which can be seen the clematises and gladioli in the window boxes and the weigela on the fence beyond.

The join with the newer section of that path can be seen in the opening between two foxgloves in the New Bed.

This garden view extends from a corner of the Rose Garden featuring pink aquilegias; the rose Summer Time at the corner of the painted shed; and, halfway up on the left-hand edge,

Ballerina, who trips merrily across her stage.

The orange theme of black-eyed Susan and marigolds atop this chimney pot was determined by the finial of this obelisk. Susan should soon wrap herself around it.

This geranium sheds a tear or two.

Now that the wisteria has finished flowering, its companion red rose has taken over floral duties;

and the white rambler has now joined clematis Star of India on the arch spanning the Brick Path at the corner of the Phantom Path.

Even before we reach the Rose Garden the scent of the prolific Festive Jewel drifts into our nostrils.

Peach Abundance,

sharing this shot of the Oval Bed with a large red sky-climber and vibrant valerian, does have a delicate scent completely snuffed out by the more powerful fragrance.

Day lilies, on the other side of the bed, are now enjoying their twenty four hours of glory.

Two clematises offering their first bloom are Hagley’s Hybrid in the Rose Garden,

and Piilu against the redundant garage door.

Félicité Perpétue along the back drive has also produced its first flower;

rather further on is the one in the front garden,

which also has an abundance of foxgloves.

Bees are now somewhat busy. Here is one exploring the larger erigerons;

another sampling the aforementioned bottle brush plant;

and finally one defying gravity while sipping from a swaying heuchera.

For our dinner this evening we supplemented Mr Pink’s exceedingly good Fish and Chips with Tesco’s gherkins and Garner’s pickled onions. We both drank Cimarosa Special Edition sauvignon blanc 2015.

In The May Garden (2)

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Among his other tasks this morning, Aaron finished weeding the original section of the Brick Path,

and sprayed herbicide along the gravel of the Back Drive where an old gold iris has bloomed.

Many plants, like this pansy-like mimulus, have happily self-seeded from last year,

others like two mulleins threatening to dwarf the roses among which they have taken root, may themselves be quite content, but their neighbours are not so.

We may have left it too late to move these two giants to the rear of the Back Drive border.

Rose Gloriana is far more prolific in this, its third year in the Rose Garden,

the faded blue entrance arch to which bears creamy Madame Alfred Carriere.

Altissimo stands sentinel at the corner of The Rose Garden and Elizabeth’s Bed,

where this sturdy fuchsia suspends its delicate pink flowers.

Cheerful erigeron cascades from the wall of the New Bed that contains

this pink-striped clematis,

as healthy as this, one of Jackie’s rescued spindly little twigs, mounting the front fence.

This evening we dined on pork medallions in barbecue sauce, with crunchy carrots, broccoli, and new potatoes. I drank Parra Alta Malbec 2016. Jackie had already imbibed her Hoegaarden on the patio beforehand.

Even The Dog Knows……

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Helen and Shelly visited this morning for coffee, scones, and a trip round the garden.

Clematis Marie Boisselot against Jackie, Shelly and Helen

Unfortunately the sun disappeared during their visit. My later photographs saw better light.

This red campion is allegedly a weed, but we like it.

Roseriae de l’Hay now flaunts her flounced skirts in the Rose Garden;

larger deep orange

and small yellow poppies are flowering;

mauve lamium lines the Brick Path;

and a blue clematis climbs the gazebo.

The tour along the Back Drive reveals clusters of creamy May blossom; two varieties of iris; this year’s honesty; white libertia, red and yellow wallflowers; sculptural euphorbia; differently hued heucheras; roses rambling and bushed; daisy-like erigeron; geraniums, including Johnson’s blue; wispy bronze fennel; deep red valerian; and no doubt much that I have missed.

After lunch we transported the two large orange bags of clippings to the Dump, now known as the Efford Recycling Centre. Making up for having left empty-handed last time, we came back with two tables and a mirror for the garden. As we turned into Christchurch Road a dog on a lead was taking its own dump on the corner of the verge. While its back legs still frantically tossed up various items of herbaceous vegetation, the desperate creature was dragged away by its owner. I observed that even the dog had more idea about cleanliness than she did. My comment was made inside the car, as Jackie, who hadn’t seen the event, drove us away.

Later, while the Head Gardener continued tidying, weeding, and planting, I gave the buddleia in the Palm Bed such a severe trim as to refill one of the orange bags with the cuttings.

There was plenty left over from yesterday’s Indian takeaway for us to have second helpings this evening. I finished the Fleurie. Jackie had consumed her Hoegaarden on the patio earlier.

The Death Penalty

This morning we visited New Milton’s Birchfield Dental Practice, where Mr Hefferan relieved me of one of my choppers which was rather loose. His painless technique was a little more sophisticated than the application of my mother’s fingers many decades ago.

My Dad was a fan of the novelist Edgar Wallace. This is what prompted me to buy a second-hand copy of ‘The Flying Squad’ a good thirty or more years past. A recent exchange with Brian, LordBeariofBow, prompted me to get around to reading it. I finished doing so in the waiting room while Jackie was having her less drastic treatment.

A fairly standard early 20th century detective thriller that would seem tame if translated to today’s TV series, so often penned by women, my copy was the 1940, 13th edition of the 1926, work. Produced during the time of the Battle of Britain, this book has survived longer than would a modern counterpart. A hardback, suffering a little foxing and browning of paper, it is still quite durable. I know it has been read previously for there were one or two minor stains and the occasional crumb lodged within.

Perhaps the most memorable aspect of Wallace’s novel is it’s constant reference to the death penalty of which the villains were in fear. Had I committed murder before I was almost thirty, I could well have been hanged.

It was not until the Murder (Abolition of Death Penalty) Act 1965 that the death penalty for murder was abolished, although it was to survive in Northern Ireland until 1973. Wikipedia tells us that ‘the Act was introduced to Parliament as a private member’s bill by Sydney Silverman MP.’ It provided ‘that charges of capital murder at the time it was passed were to be treated as charges of simple murder and all sentences of death were to be commuted to sentences of life imprisonment. The legislation contained a sunset clause, which stated that the Act would expire on 31 July 1970 “unless Parliament by affirmative resolutions of both Houses otherwise determines”.^[3] This was done in 1969 and the Act was made permanent.’

On 13 August 1964, Peter Anthony Allen, at Walton Prison in Liverpool, and Gwynne Owen Evans, at Strangeways Prison in Manchester, were executed for the murder of John Alan West on 7 April that year. They were the last of such UK executions.

Perhaps better known victims of the hangman were Ruth Ellis, the last woman hanged, and Derek Bentley who had met a similar fate two years earlier.

Film, TV, and stage productions have recounted the story of Ruth Ellis who died in 1955, and Derek Bentley, the subject of a 1991 British drama film directed by Peter Medak and starring Christopher Eccleston, Paul Reynolds, Tom Courtenay and Tom Bell.

The Bentley case led to a 45-year-campaign to win him a posthumous pardon which was granted in 1993, A further campaign resulted in the quashing of his murder conviction in 1998.

The gun that killed PC Sidney Miles had been fired by Bentley’s companion, 16 year old Christopher Craig, who was too young to hang. The finding of guilt hinged on the interpretation of Bentley’s cry, ‘Let him have it’. The jury interpreted the phrase to mean ‘Kill him’. The defence view was that he meant ‘Hand over the gun’.

Those two 1950s executions stayed in the memory of this then young boy.

Late this afternoon I wandered around the garden.

When I recently photographed an insect such as this one making a bee-line for euphorbia, I described it as a wasp. I don’t think it really can be. A bee, or a hoverfly, perhaps?

I photographed this rhododendron in bud a day or two ago;

as I did this flowering cherry.

The erigerons outside the back door are recovering well from their severe haircut.

This evening we dined on shepherds’ pie, carrots and cauliflower. Jackie drank more of the Côtes de Gascoigne, and I drank Lion’s Lair Shiraz 2013.

From Autumn Leaves to Snowdrops

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Bill Edney had the unenviable task of getting those of us schoolboys at Wimbledon College who could not manage Latin through ‘O’ Level Geography after several terms without a teacher. Today I remembered a different anecdote from that told in the link highlighted above.

Sheep, I know do not like long, lush, grass. How do I know? Because Mr Edney, a bluff countryman, publicly humiliated a classmate by ridiculing him for writing in an essay that sheep “like long, lush, grass”. According to the master they most definitely do not. How were we townies to know that? This lasting intelligence prevented me from seeking ovine assistance on our patch of overgrown grass. Having no sheep, I sheared it myself.

It still looks manky at the moment, but should perk up now the air can get to it.

This exercise exposed the tortoise, removing its hibernation cover.

Close examination of this view along the Heligan Path reveals that

purple crocuses are now emerging.

These paler ones share with snowdrops the shade of hellebores in the Weeping Birch Bed.

During the morning the warm sunshine brought out insects such as bees on hellebores

and on snowdrops;

and a Red Admiral butterfly basking on laurel leaves,

seeking camouflage in autumn leaves,

and slaking its thirst on snowdrops.

This view across the Palm Bed leads to the grass patch.

Jackie spent the morning clearing and thinning areas such as the erigeron clumps by the windows to the living room. This will soon be carpeted once more with daisy-like flowers.

This evening we dined on roast lamb, Jackie’s sage and onion stuffing, sautéed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots, cauliflower, and greens. I finished the Cote du Rhone.

Out Of The Corner Of My Eye

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Apart from June, August is possibly the best time to appreciate Jackie’s planting design. I wandered around this morning with that specifically in mind.

This view from the Brick Path takes in the planting of the small triangular bed at the intersection of this path with the Gazebo one. Phlox, pansies, bidens, and violas are in evidence. The cosmoses occupy the iron urn, and the geraniums a stone one. The chimney pot on the grass patch fills in the middle distance en rout to the South end.

Looking along from the other side, we pass through the Agriframes Arch which bears a new clematis. This latter plant has taken over from the rambling rose, Wedding Day, now spent for this year, and consequently cut back by The Head Gardener.

The cosmoses in the aforementioned iron urn form the foreground of this view through the gazebo to the Rose Garden. The gazebo bears its own well-stocked hanging baskets. Nicotiana sylvestris and agapanthus can be seen on the left.

The contents of the chimney pot on the grass fill the foreground of this view past Florence, also culminating in the Rose Garden. Several hanging baskets supplement the range of blending colours.

Stepping across to the other side of the grass, we can look across Margery’s Bed with its newly planted lobelias, leading us to the Rose Garden entrance. Lilies can be seen in shade on the right, and clematis Star of India is trained around its obelisk. Hanging baskets are also in view.

Hanging branches of the Weeping Birch drape its eponymous bed beyond which we reach the Southern fence. The white gladioli glow in the distance. I’ll stop mentioning hanging baskets. You get the picture.

Again looking to the Southern boundary, beyond a stone urn supplied with begonias and geraniums, on the left of the entry arch to the Back Drive, stand a few potted tomatoes. A white solanum and purple clematis entwine the dead tree by the New Bed.

Some corners of the Rose Garden need the assistance of plants inserted for the purpose of variety, in order to give them time to begin their next flush.

This view takes advantage of the hydrangea in Elizabeth’s Bed. The erigeron at the foot of the bench is another cluster of offspring from those outside the French doors.

Before leaving the Rose Garden, I treated myself to one close-up of a bee blending into St Johns Wort.

As I’m not going to mention hanging baskets, I can’t say much about the kitchen wall, except that some of the containers are on the ground or tables that can’t be seen.

At the far end of the above view lies the patio. Here is a corner of it.

Now, why did I include this out of focus repeat of the second Brick Path view? Well, out of the corner of my right eye I saw something about to happen, panned rapidly across the scene, and made a fortuitous capture which should be visible, in focus, without enlargement. Can you spot it? There’s no shame in enlargement.

When Giles visited with Jean a couple of days ago, he brought Jackie a couple of viper’s bugloss plants. These grow tall with blue flowers which hold a great attraction for bees. Jackie planted them on the Back Drive this afternoon.

This evening we enjoyed our second sitting of Mr Chatty Man Chan’s Chinese cuisine. Jackie drank Becks and I drank Doom Bar.

Perseverance Rewarded

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Until 2.30 p.m. when Jackie drove us to Brockenhurst to collect our friend Sheila who is staying with us for a few days, she continued sterling maintenance in the garden while Aaron and Robin continued with the fencing.

The erigeron outside the French windows featured as part of yesterday’s kitchen door shot. Here is a close-up of some of them.

Walking down the back drive to open the gate for our two marvellous garden maintenance men, I admired, on the bordering beds,

snapdragons;

wallflowers and valerian;

and rose Féliticé Perpetué, now draping the dead stumps.

The heucheras in the Rose Garden provide stiff competition for the roses themselves.

Here, the geranium palmatums lead us in,

and aquilegias front Schoolgirl and Golden Showers.

Ballerina dances with honeysuckle alongside the entrance arch.

The rose Hot Chocolate in the front garden is, however, just ahead of that in the back.

Festooning the front trellis are two different depths of pink roses.

Here is a view across the Cryptomeria Bed to Elizabeth’s Bed.

The peach coloured rose photographed yesterday is further open today.

The smallest hoverfly I have ever seen landed on For Your Eyes Only.

I have striven for a long time to capture a bee in flight. Today my perseverance was rewarded.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s lemon chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, and carrots. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, I drank more of the Fleurie, and Sheila drank water.