gates – derrickjknight

A Ship In A Bottle

Some 100 yards or so to the east along Christchurch From our house lies the entrance to a series of quarry pits. Our friend Giles has learned that three of the pits have been filled with water and converted to bird sanctuaries. In recent months a series of gates into the woodland have appeared. I imagined that these may provide access to the waters. This morning I walked along to investigate. Each one of the gates bears a digital padlock on the inside.

The last two of these images show the dried ditch. Remaining enticed by views beyond the gates, I returned home thinking that further research would be in order.

A bonus was that I met and enjoyed a lengthy conversation with our next door neighbours, Laraine and David, from whom we have been largely in Covid-induced isolation for too many months.

Jackie continued work in the garden and later photographed the Brick Path which has become quite slippery. The first of these shots shows a completed section; the second, work in progress; and the third what was still to be done.

From later afternoon until early this evening, The Head Gardener continued her task to completion among the essential shade.

These three scenes comprise the southern, central, and northern, sections of the thoroughfare, which I photographed.

After lunch I had previously toured with my camera.

Slightly left of centre in this picture we see a rather spindly Jacqueline du Pré rose which was being choked by Japanese anemones. Jackie removed the invaders and bagged them up for the stack of garden refuse destined for the dump. I carried them across to join the others, and

photographed them while I was at it. These, containing material too woody for compost, have all been packed in the last fortnight.

Hydrangeas and hanging baskets need frequent watering during this hot weather which now warrants a government Amber heat warning.

Phlox of various hues are really flourishing; Rhapsody in Blue flowers again.

One day lily has penetrated the aluminium latticework of a bench on the lawn. Rather like a ship in a bottle it would have been neatly folded to facilitate entry before its sails were unfurled.

Before settling down to drinks in the Rose Garden, Jackie photographed a ladybird, perched higher than either of us, waiting for a sunflower to open.

We dined on flavoursome liver and bacon; boiled potatoes; cauliflower and carrots al dente; and tender cabbage, with which Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I finished the Shiraz.

More Bastides

Having received no response from the estate agent, I decided to print off, sign, and post the document to the French solicitor complete with the errors. There are only so many times I am prepared to point out mistakes. This meant popping over to Shelly and Ron’s for my signature to be witnessed. Ron performed the task; I e-mailed scanned copies of each signed page to the agent; then posted the original to the solicitor.

the //about-france.com website claims that ‘the “Bastide” towns of southwest France are a growing tourist attraction, and comprise one of the largest collections of well-preserved mediaeval townscapes to be found anywhere in Europe.’ In yesterday’s post I featured

Beaumont 4 9.03

Beaumont-du-Perigord, being a fine example.

Unfortunately I cannot be certain which was the next such town I visited with Maggie and Mike in September 2003, but I think it was Monpazier, founded by the English to keep out the French in 1285. It was to change hands between these two nations several times in the following few decades.

The main feature of a bastide is the central square surrounded by colonnaded arches now housing shops, such as wine merchants and toy suppliers. I enjoyed seeing baskets of diabolos, such as those brought back from holiday by my maternal grandparents.

Colourful market stalls fill the square which is

surrounded by grids of streets linked by narrow alleys or ruelles.

Weathered walls, iron gates, and tended gardens invite attention.

Maggie and Mike 9.03

When we passed a church which had recently held a wedding, my friends thought it would be a good wheeze to pretend it was theirs.

I drank more of the Malbec with our evening meal consisting of Jackie’s chicken chow mein and Tesco’s won tons. Mrs Knight enjoyed her food , and did not imbibe.

Recycling In Practice

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When we purchased these two pairs of cast iron gates as part of our haul from the Efford Recycling Centre on 3rd October 2015, we had an idea that they might come in useful one day. All we needed was the inspiration to come up with an idea. Accordingly, two years on, Jackie became inspired. It should, she thought, be within AP Maintenance’s Aaron’s capabilities to create an arbour over the new bench in the West Bed.

Today he proved he was up to the job. Carefully placing the gates so that their ornamentation was symmetrically opposite, Aaron fixed two of them to metal supports

that he had driven into the soil.

They were then ready to receive the ridge pieces;

after the application of which designer and craftsman could relax and enjoy their creation. Because the upper frames are heavier than the lower ones a couple more supports will be added.

A cobbler is a meat dish of lamb, goat, or beef with a topping of scones. This evening Jackie served up the lamb version accompanied by new potatoes, broccoli, and manges touts (no, WordPress, not manages tools), with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Ribera del Duero.

Up And Down The Lane

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Late this afternoon, the dull skies cleared and we enjoyed a warm and sunny day. Naturally, we took a drive into the forest.

A young man and his dog walking along Holmsley Passage,

set off onto the moors;

a couple of cyclists, passing a group relaxing on a gate crossed the junction of the road with the disused railway line that is now a footpath;

and a group of hikers, relieved of their backpacks, took a rest on the grass.

I have featured Honey Lane in Burley a couple of times before, but had never covered the whole length until today. This is because the serpentine, steeply undulating, ancient road is so pitted with often water-filled holes that you really need a 4 x 4 to negotiate it.

Jackie parked the Modus beside this gateway to a field,

and waited for me to wander down the lane and back.

The age of this thoroughfare is indicated by the high bank of hedgerows mounted by gnarled old trees.

Todays photographs are reproduced in the order in which I made them, thus replicating the ramble. Soon a troop of ponies came into view.

The tree to the right of the above picture is beginning to be carpeted by autumn leaves

waiting for the leading grey to rest its hooves.

Another wandered along behind.

This chestnut seemed rather scarred.

Cattlegrids are meant to deter hoofed animals from crossing them. Not so these two ponies foraging in someone’s garden. They clattered across the bars as I passed.

Here are more gnarled roots atop the bank,

up which some home owners have set steps to reach their gardens.

Here comes another scarred pony,

soon to be passed by a happy cyclist towing a trailer.

This wooden kissing gate was rather intriguing.

The ponies had other things on their minds.

A couple of cyclists passed the next animal,

which continued on towards me.

This tree reminded me of Jabba the Hutt.

Sunlight pierced the foliage in parts.

How, I wondered, had this very tall tree taken this circuitous route before ascending to the light above.

A blaze of yellow leaves enlivened this garden.

Sunlight dappled the shed of Orchard Farm,

and pierced a deep stygian bank.

Here is another gate to a field.

Can you spot the squirrel?

Nearing the Burley Street end of the lane

I mounted the next rise, turned, and

retraced my steps, catching sight of cyclists in the distance.

They soon sped down towards me, the first two, with cheery greetings, too fast for my lens;

their companions paused for a pleasant chat.

I spotted a few more colourful leaves.

A friendly woman walking her dog commented on what a pleasant evening it was,

and, with sunlight spanning a nearby tree, I was soon beside the Modus once more, and we set off for home.

On Holmsley Road a splendid stag seemed confused about crossing.

It had seen the approaching vehicle, turned,

and was soon back on the verge and disappearing into the forest.

Those of a tender disposition may wish to skip what we had for dinner.

This was Jackie’s superb liver and bacon casserole, leek and cauliflower cheese, roast parsnips, new potatoes, cabbage, and carrots. I finished the malbec.