gaura – derrickjknight

Behind Every Great Man…..

This morning I e-mailed a drawing to a fellow blogger as an offering to illustrate one of his posts.

While I sat in the car waiting for Jackie to emerge from Tesco with a fortnight’s shopping that I would load into our vehicle and into the kitchen at home I finished reading

Lent to us by Giles, this is a truly inspirational book charting the despair following a catastrophic turn of fortune partly brought about by physical- and mental ill-health; a loving relationship and the struggling creativity that, phoenix-like, surmounted disaster and contributed to remarkable success.

Depression, anxiety, unemployment, severe physical pain, all experienced while raising a young family are all honestly described. Sub-titled ‘A Story of Despair and Redemption’, this work is about the emotional turmoil the writers have experienced; it is also a tutorial on planning and planting a stunning garden; a journey through the seasons and the effects of sunshine, light, water, and soil. The constantly repeated cyclical patterns of each year from gloom to brightness and back again could be seen as a metaphor for the couple’s journey through life.

In his dynamic media presentation of such as BBC’s ‘Gardener’s World and in his writing Monty Don has been the public face of this partnership. Sarah, however, in their collaborations, of which this work is one, produces equally eloquent descriptive prose. I must refrain from giving away any more detail but ‘The Jewel Garden’ supports the phrase ‘behind every great man there is a great woman’.

Finally, I would suggest that anyone – TanGental, for instance – planning a garden event at any particular time of the year would do well to read this book.

After lunch I finished pruning the poplar, the chopped branches of which, supplemented by a few more of Jackie’s rose clippings, filled another bag for recycling.

I managed to knock this dahlia from its stem while wheeling the barrow of poplar cuttings. Never mind. We have an accident pot indoors.

Petunias still proliferate,

as do the ubiquitous Japanese anemones.

Today’s roses are represented by a pink carpet variety; a paler pink Generous Gardener, planted to scale the lopped cypress; and Shropshire Lad, bearing the freckles formed by raindrops.

This pink gaura is the most successful we have tried in this garden; the white begonia has always delighted.

Just one hollyhock bloom has so far resisted adding to a column of seed pods; clematis Julia Correvon has shed her colourful petal-like leaves.

At the end of the afternoon Jackie finished trimming the lawn.

This evening we dined on plentiful scrambled egg on toast.

“It Tells So Many Stories”

My early morning walk to open the back gate for Aaron displayed

various beds, yucca, evening primroses, Welsh poppies, petunias, hollyhocks, a bee using a bidens as a trapeze, phlox, agapanthus, gaura, a Large White butterfly on a verbena bonariensis, and lilies in the Rose Garden. As usual the individual images are labelled in the gallery which may be accessed by clicking any one and viewed full size by clicking the boxes underneath them then further enlarged.

Later, Nugget Junior 2nd demonstrated his prowess at darting to catch insects on the wing. We really hope he hasn’t seen off his Dad.

Before he left I printed copies for Aaron of a couple of photographs I took of him last week.

He really likes this portrait, as do I. “It tells so many stories”, he said. Most of my pictures of him go into an album which he could use, should he ever have the need, to advertise his work as A.P. Maintenance. This one will be framed and hung on his wall.

Our friends, Barbara and Adrian Chapman, sent as an e-mail attachment a copy of this well composed and executed oil painting by Adrian, based on one of my photographs and a Google street view. I particularly like his use of colour and the turn of the neck of the foreground pony, and am honoured to have provided the inspiration.

This afternoon I offered a certain amount of assistance to Jackie with the general garden maintenance. My tasks were dead-heading, pruning under instruction, and cutting up material for the compost bin.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s sumptuous savoury rice; spicy pork paprika; and pork ribs in barbecue sauce, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Squinzano.

Ali Baba

When I walked down the garden to open the back gate for Aaron this morning the early sun peeped over the eastern fence, its light licking

the jeweling of last night’s rain still glittering on the plants. The bees were working away. Wedding Day festooning the Agriframes Arch approved of the Penny Lane bouquet adorning another. As usual galleries can be accessed by clicking on any image each of which may be viewed full size with a click in its box at bottom right; further enlargement will then also be possible.

Readers may remember that the territorial arrangement arrived at last year between Nugget and his rival, Muggle, was that the mutual boundary was the first hawthorn tree along the back drive. I therefore think that it was

Muggle I met along the back drive, providing me with “Where’s Muggle?” (1) and (2).

Among his other tasks this morning Aaron added more paving to his path linking Dead End to the patio.

One of the presents we had given Danni for her birthday was a large Ali Baba planter. These were being sold at Redcliffe Garden Centre. They were half price with a further reduction if you bought two. This had the Head Gardener thinking that she also needed one. We bought two.

This afternoon she potted up hers. Rocks and bricks covered in fleece provided the necessary drainage; the contents of two grow bags came next, and were followed by those of two and a half 50 litre compost bags. Then came the main permanent feature of the gaura with its small delicate pink and white blooms surrounded by pelargoniums, petunias, and other trailing plants which will extend to where the Head Gardener is indicating. Finally watering was required. The final picture gives the view of the pot enjoyed by anyone sitting on the white seat cleared yesterday in the Weeping Birch Bed.

Later, taking a bundle of black refuse bags and a letter delivered to our house, we visited Elizabeth and enjoyed a pleasant hour or so of socially distanced conversation in her garden.

On Bull Hill, donkeys and ponies favoured differing fodder. The smaller animals, of course, prefer prickly provender.

Our dining fare this evening consisted of piquant two varieties of pasta cheese; crispy bacon; roast potatoes, and mixed vegetables, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

A Tattooed Jet-skier

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Yesterday, Jackie, having set a border with transplanted heucheras some weeks ago, thinned out the other plants in the small bed to the left of the rose garden entrance. As Aaron said, this increased the sense of space.

One of Aaron’s tasks this morning was to prune the plants over the arch to the front garden;

another was to fix spikes to the top of the Westbrook Arbour to prevent perching pigeons pooing onto the bench beneath.

Late this morning Jackie drove me out with the intention of photographing the New Forest Marathon. Unfortunately, because of road closures, and my inability to walk far enough along the paths that would lead to the runners, we abandoned the idea and went home to lunch, after which an amble round the garden was possible.

We still have a number of lively clematises, like this Polish Spirit in the Dragon Bed alongside the Shady Path,

and this Hagley Hybrid in the Rose Garden,

where is also to be found glorious Gloriana,

pink-cheeked Mum in a Million,

and Rhapsody in Blue harmonising with verbena bonariensis.

Peach Delight still stretches over the Oval Bed,

where nasturtiums echo rudbeckia,

itself found in the Palm Bed,

also home to helenium

and echinacea.

Bees swarmed blushing sedums

and Japanese anemones;

a wasp sought saxifrage.

Perhaps a spider’s spinning a modest veil for Florence sculpture.

Gauras have proved difficult to grow here. An exception is this one swaying in the Weeping Birch Bed.

This fuchsia curtains Elizabeth’s Bed from the Rose Garden.

In the late afternoon we visited Mudeford Quay which thronged with visitors, Many of whom were enjoying themselves catching crabs, although they snared more seaweed. The secret, which enabled one group to fill buckets with the unfortunate creatures before tossing them back into the water, seemed to be the bacon bait, which, to my mind, would have been better served flavouring a sausage casserole.

Taking advantage of the low tide, one dog walker wandered along the sandbank, passing the Isle of Wight, and retracing his steps.

Just as I was about to leave, a tattooed jet skier sprayed into sight and navigated his way between the port and starboard buoys.

Early this evening, Jackie rushed in for the camera, rushed out with it, and returned with a backlit image of the heuchera I had photographed this morning.

This evening the three of us dined on Jackie’s splendid pork paprika; wild rice; crunchy carrots, and our own runner beans, followed by her sublime bread and butter pudding. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while my sister and I finished the Fleurie.

High Street Gallery

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This afternoon Jackie drove Elizabeth and me to Lyndhurst so that my sister could replenish her cabinet at the Antiques Centre. This gave me the opportunity to perch on a bench alongside the high street where I was able to watch the world going by, and, of course photographing visitors galore. This selection of photographs is virtually random. Although each bears a title in the gallery

You will see in each shot what catches your own eye or imagination. I will just highlight the sequence where a couple of dog walkers approach Paws in the Forest from one direction, and pass a little girl, coming down the hill with her mother, and enjoying an ice cream , some of which drips onto her forearm.

This evening the three of us dined on Jackie’s splendid sausage casserole; swede mash; crunchy carrots, and firm cauliflower. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and Elizabeth and I drank Mendoza Parra Alta Malbec 2017

“Look. That Man’s Taking Photographs”

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Leaving their van in our front drive

and their slip-on shoes outside the door,

Barry and Owen, who are New Forest Chimney Sweeping & Repairs, having first serviced Mistletoe Cottage next door, provided us with their trademark clean and efficient job.

A dust sheet is laid down;

face-masks making father, Barry, and son, Owen, sound like Star Wars stormtroopers are applied;

a shield is fitted into place, and the soot vacuumed out, leaving the room spotless. As you can see, there was no need to cover furniture. The job was completed and the equipment cleared away in about an hour. If you need a chimney sweep look no further than http://www.findachimneysweep.co.uk/sweeps/new-forest-1-cg-7641-qualified/?area=&service=

This afternoon we met Elizabeth at Lavender Farm at Landford, where we wandered around, enjoyed refreshments, and purchased a few plants.

Beside the car park lies a very long greenhouse on the inside of the glass windows of which tiny trail-blazing cartographers have etched uncharted territory.

Apart from the many plants laid out for sale, there are a number of more formal herbaceous borders;

various climbing roses;

splendid displays such as these salvias placed in a bed in the midst of a brick path. Jackie, in red, investigates plants for sale in the background of the first view, while Elizabeth approaches in the second.

Glorious gladioli abound. This example is embraced by one of the many metal sculptures.

Potted banana trees have been reduced in price.

Unusually this elderly gaura stands guardsman erect.

There is a large freely planted area through which it is possible to wander,

take photographs,

or run around among the lavender.

Many visitors come to spend a pleasant time seated at table with friends, tea, coffee, and cakes.

A spectacularly colourful coleus

sat in a shiny bright blue pot close to our table. A sparrow walked around it. The background blackboard already advertised Christmas lunch.

Elizabeth couldn’t eat all her scone, which was broken up and tossed on the decking for the little bird and its companions.

Some of the dining areas were under cover, such as one sheltered by a thick transparent plastic material. As I passed this, a mother, exclaiming “Look. That man’s taking photographs”, brought her daughter to peer through it. She was amused at the result.

Before Elizabeth returned home, the three of us dined on Jackie’s superb spicy lamb jalfrezi with fried onion rice, followed by chocolate eclairs and vanilla ice cream. Jackie drank Hoegaarden; Elizabeth, alcohol free Becks; and I finished the Fleurie.

Compassion Recovered

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Apart from the collapse of the Compassion rose arch, the recent storms have treated us with respect.

The clematis and solanum have remained attached to the dead tree.

Orange crocosmia still stands at the potting shed entrance to the Rose Garden,

while yellow and orange thrive harmoniously in the Dragon Bed.

Clematis Duchess of Albany drapes herself over the arbour in the Rose Garden

Where Penny Lane parades her maturity;

and others such as For Your Eyes Only

and Festive Jewel are reliving their youth.

Fuchsia Delta’s Sarah spreads along the side of the triangular bed now beside the greenhouse.

Light pink Japanese anemones reach the lower branches of the red maple;

darker pink ones are quite prolific,

while white ones enliven the

West Bed with its New Zealand hebe, its leicesteria,

and its dahlias.

Close by we have fuchsia Mrs Popple.

One clematis climbing the gazebo blends well with geraniums in a hanging basket;

another basket contains deep blue lobelia and an orange begonia.

Purple petunias and more lobelias populate the Back Drive barrier tubs.

The gaura in the Weeping Birch Bed is thriving.

The views across the Kitchen Bed;

from beside the weeping birch,

and along the Shady Bed from the Dragon Bed corner remain colourful.

Bees, like this one in a geranium palmatum continue working hard;

flies, such as this one crawling over Priscilla, are in abundance.

Yellow rudbeckia are at their best. Here are some in Margery’s Bed.

This morning was spent generally tidying up, one of Aaron’s tasks being to refurbish the fallen arch.

He then,

assisted by Jackie,

recovered the Compassion rose and tied it back in place.

This afternoon we visited Willows garden at Pilley. On the grounds that we couldn’t stand the competition, I will report on that tomorrow.

This evening we dined on fish pie, ratatouille, carrots and broccoli, with which we both drank Bergerac blanc sec 2016.

What’s This Beetle?

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Supplementing this morning’s work on ‘A Knight’s Tale’ were my posts ‘Auntie Gwen’ and ‘One For Rebeckah’,

from which this photograph was included.

This afternoon the weather was dry, overcast, and humid, with the sun sometimes sneaking a peek at what I was up to. This was watering, dead-heading, and a little weeding.

I then experienced considerable difficulty in loading new photographs into WordPress.

Pollen-dusted bees favoured the pink and purple hebes;

Deep red Bishop of Llandaff dahlias nod to the lilies in the New Bed. (See Head Gardener’s comment below – we don’t know the name of the dahlia, but it’s not the Bishop)

We live in hope that this gaura, a plant with which we have so far been unsuccessful, will flourish in the Weeping Birch Bed.

On the other hand, Jackie has had great success with what we call ‘Pineapple’ plants, prised up from paving and placed in the Kitchen Bed.

Early this evening the sun reemerged and shed new light on the garden, bringing, incidentally, a cessation to loading problems. Maybe this was because the Head Gardener had returned and there was no further reason to sulk.

A glow was lent to echinaceas

and to phlox in the palm bed;

to the crocosmias, like this Lucifer;

to a much wider range of day lilies than we remember having;

and to various clematises,

including this one in which the Head Gardener can justifiably take great pride. As long-term readers will know, what is now the Rose Garden, was, three years ago, a concrete-bound, overgrown kitchen garden of sorts. This is where this raggedy specimen started life. Jackie lifted the wizened little plant, placed it in a pot adopted by the front garden trellis, and returned it to its roots in its birthplace.

Inherited wild strawberries are bearing fruit for the first time.

As I passed the sweetly scented lilies in the New Bed, an iridescent green glint in the centre of one of the blooms flashed enticingly. Does anyone have any idea as to the beetle’s identity?

Miss Coleoptera on Twitter offers this suggestion: ‘Probably a Cetonia aurata or a Protaetia’. Uma offers this, in his comment below: ‘To me that looks like a Bombardier Beetle. Or perhaps the fellow is an oil beetle’. Google images confirms Cetonia aurata, which Oglach, below, has named as a chafer beetle..

If I had any sense I wouldn’t struggle when there’s a blip in the system. I’d just ignore it until it went away.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious lamb jalfrezi and savoury rice topped with an omelette. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Georges DuBoeuf Fleurie 2016.

Boldre Bridge

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At 16 degrees, our incredibly mild period continues. It was therefore strange today to begin the winter clearing whilst we continue to enjoy blooms from spring and summer. We did so in rather desultory fashion.

It is difficult to think of winter when you can admire

roses Margaret Merrill, Penny Lane, Mamma Mia, and especially Summer Time;

or fuchsias, geraniums, dahlias, gauras and poppies, one of which harbours a hoverfly; and many more.

With the sun shining, we set off for brunch at The Friars Cliff Cafe. Unfortunately this was in everyone else’s minds. The car park at Steamer Point was crammed full, and shoals of humanity floundered on the beach. There was no doubt the cafe would be full to bursting like me after the Olympics breakfast. We therefore turned back and aimed for Calshot. We hadn’t travelled very far before the sky clouded over. It didn’t look very conducive to photography, so we brunched at Otter Nurseries. Only when I had chosen a liver casserole did Jackie tell me that was what she had planned for this evening. She happily did a rethink.

The walls at Otter contain some rather well-executed paintings for sale. One of these was Boldre Bridge. We wondered why we hadn’t seen the bridge, and realised that would be because we had always driven over it. So we went to look for it. I passed through a five-barred gate and descended a bank to find something approximating the painter’s vantage point.

I was intrigued to notice that the architect had made it possible to feature the Christian fish symbol. The five-spanned bridge, which dates from at least the 18th century is listed under the Planning (Listed Buildings and Conservation Areas) 1990, as amended, for its architectural or historic interest.

A tree had fallen across the river, on which autumn leaves floated over reflections of broken, reeds, and still grey sky.

Just before we drove on, the sun began to light up the foliage on Rodlease Lane.

En route to Sway, I wandered into the forest, taking advantage of the light streaming through the trees, and exchanging greetings with a family of riders.

As I ventured further in, attracted by pinpoints of light in the distance, I was rewarded by this dramatic view across the moorland featuring

a single dwelling in an idyllic setting.

Driving through Hordle on our return, Jackie spotted a cautionary notice for any witches inclined to take to the skies tomorrow night, and a cry for help from an underground prison.

Jackie’s rethink for tonight’s meal involved lemon-flavoured chicken Kiev, French fries, and baked beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Reserve des Tuguets madiran 2012.

The Playground Bully

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On another balmy morning I began a tour of the gardens at the front of the house, where

fuchsia Delta’s Sarah blends with the pink Japanese anemones framed by white ones and Michaelmas daisies;

and myrtle

and solanum continue flowering.

Outside the kitchen window, spritely spring poppies emerge alongside ripened sedum,

not far from sprawling autumn crocuses flanked by gauras and geraniums.

This tiny white fuchsia adds variety to the Rose Garden,

and honeysuckle hangs on in there.

Pink is a frequently encountered colour.

The still prolific dahlias Bishop of Llandaff are a richer red, still attracting the bees in their New Bed playground. This whacking great bee bulldozed a smaller boy from this flower with a thumping thud. (I am indebted to Barrie Haynes for correcting the sex of the bullied bee – it is a girl: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drone_(bee)

He sloped off to another flower. Comparison of the bees against the similarly sized stamens will demonstrate what a big bully we have.

This evening we dined on beefburgers, mashed potato and swede, and cauliflower cheese. I drank Doom Bar.