gull – Page 2 – derrickjknight

The Action Came To Me

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Jackie and I left Hurst Castle yesterday as we entered, crossing the bridge over the moat. What was once a deep defensive dug-out water-filled trench, now just collects a little precipitation when it rains.

We joined the crowds waiting for the ferry.

The small fleet of pleasure boats plied their way between Keyhaven and the castle. Even as one hove into view there was little movement among the visitors. Each boat only catered for twelve people, so those who were able might as well lounge around on the grass

until this arrival

had decanted its load and taken on fresh supplies.

We gained a place on the next one and were soon back at Keyhaven.

On board the ferry Jackie had learned the story of the wrecked boat that I have featured in several previous posts. It is seen here with a severe list. The owner of the vessel has apparently died. Before his demise he had sold the mooring to someone at Mudeford. The purchaser has done nothing with it.

This afternoon we drove to Lepe to meet Elizabeth, Danni, and Andy. My sister is embarking on a documentary photographic series on ‘coast’ for her camera club. I had suggested Lepe.

On a wide junction with the Exbury Road outside Beaulieu, a young pony seemed confused. It stood in the centre, not knowing which way to turn, until Jackie stopped for it.

It had been agreed that we would make our ways to the car park and find each other. A friendly gull guided us to what seemed to be the only available space. Jackie waited in the car.

As I walked along the shingle there was much activity down by the shore at this low tide. Groups gathered in the shallows and yachts were much in evidence.

A louring sky did, however, send some off to the café.

Kite surfers were undeterred.

My extended family members, Andy, Danni, and Elizabeth, were to be found on the shingle at the far end of the car park.

I had decided that, in walking back to inform Jackie, I would amble down to the shore, where the action was. A gull’s presence against the cloud curtain suggested rain was not far away.

Indeed, it wasn’t, so, swathed in towels, the action came to me;

some pausing to inspect the shallows.

Along with the entire population of the beach, we entered the café, fought for chairs, and drank our choice of hot or cold liquids.

When the sun returned we walked down to the crumbling cliffs for Elizabeth to conduct her recce. There a couple of groups dug for lug worms to use as fishing bait,

while others walked along the exposed sand spit.

Kite surfers has continued undisturbed.

A skein of geese flapped silently by above the scene.

The darkening sky had shifted enough for a pair of passing yachts to catch the sunlight.

Soon it was time to pack up the surf kites

and carry them to the transport.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendid sausage casserole, boiled potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Bardalino.

The Roadside Meadow

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Municipal planting has been one of the facilities offered by Local Authorities in these straitened times to have fallen by the wayside. In the metaphorical sense this is not true of New Forest District Council. Last autumn seeds were sown by the side of the A337 and covered with a protective netting. They have now sprung into life.

This is the location of the nearest site to our home, no more than a mile away.

We have been waiting an opportune moment to photograph the most amazing display that is currently swaying in the breeze and buzzing with bees.

For once, I cannot say any more than the plants do themselves. This array would enhance any cottage garden.

Having feasted our eyes on these floral delights, we drove on to Barton on Sea to have a look at Christchurch Bay.

The unstable cliffs sign is not new,

but it has perhaps moved inland a little more.

Only the gliding gulls can travel over the clifftop with equanimity.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s marvellous boeuf bourguignon with swede and potato mash and mange touts. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while I drank more of the Saint Emilion.

Reprising Ice Cream Selection

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Most of the beds in the garden are threaded with stepping stones placed for access. They have become rather overgrown. This morning I began opening them out, starting with

this one leading off the Dead End Path. You should be able to distinguish between the before and after photographs. There is, incidentally, no view of the garden that doesn’t include the smelly white alliums. They bring early delight to the beds, but need an enormous amount of thinning out. Not only does each plant grow on a bulb, but each single bell on the flowers contains another bulb which it drops onto the soil. Each of these grows a new allium the following year.

Regular readers will know that The Head Gardener can never resist an owl. This morning she excelled herself by buying this one with an owlet in a jumble sale.

Elizabeth came to lunch and stayed on for dinner.

Jackie drove us to Milford on Sea where Peter, at Sears Barbers gave me an excellent haircut which is visibly reflected here.

Wikipedia has this to say about the traditional red and white striped barber’s pole: ‘The red and white pole outside barber shops references a time when barbers were expected to perform bloodletting and other medical procedures to heal the sick; red represented blood and white represented bandages. “Barber surgeons” in Rome also performed teeth extraction, cupping, leeching, bloodletting, surgery and enemas. However, today’s barber poles represent little more than being a barber shop that cuts hair and does shaves.^[10] Barber poles have actually become a topic of controversy in the hairstyling business. In some states, such as Michigan in March 2012, legislation has emerged proposing that barber poles should only be permitted outside barbershops, but not traditional beauty salons. Barbers and cosmetologists have engaged in several legal battles claiming the right to use the barber pole symbol to indicate to potential customers that the business offers haircutting services. Barbers claim that they are entitled to exclusive rights to use the barber pole because of the tradition tied to the craft, whereas cosmetologists argue that they are equally capable of cutting men’s hair too (though many cosmetologists are not permitted to use razors, depending on their state’s laws).’

A couple of doors away from the barber’s is situated Polly’s Pantry Tea Rooms, first featured in ‘Portrait of a Village’ a couple of years ago.

Here are some of the home-made cakes on display.

Jackie and Elizabeth enjoyed cakes, tea, and coffee served by the delightfully friendly Julie, while they waited in this establishment for my shorn appearance. I joined them with a pot of tea. As I sat facing the window I observed a number of passing visitors examining the cakes. It seemed to me that this would make a good photograph. However I had no wish to deter prospective customers by shoving a camera in their faces. Yet I did have a couple of available models.

I sent them outside to pose.

Earlier, two little boys, noses pinned to the cabinet, had come in to choose ice creams.

As my two ladies came back inside the shop, they reprised the youngsters’ pose.

After this Jackie drove us on to Keyhaven, where the wreck has developed a lurch.

As I watched a mallard fishing, a gull homed in on it.

The duck sped off. Fortunately the gull gave up the chase.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s scrumptious cottage pie, runner beans, and carrots and Brussels sprouts cooked to such perfection that all the flavour was retained. Chocolate eclairs, cream slices and Madagascan vanilla cheesecake were the desserts from which to make a selection. Elizabeth and I drank Vacqeyras Côtes du Rhône 2015.

After a session of reminiscences Elizabeth returned home to West End.

A Pee And A Frolic With Santa

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This morning I hand delivered some local cards.

Keyhaven harbour, Isle of Wight, The Needles

We then drove to New Milton for some very last minute Christmas shopping, and on to Keyhaven

for a look at the harbour where sleek swans and male and female mallards foraged in the silt alongside each other, dripping water as they came up for air;

gulls perched on railings;

and speckled sandpipers trotted about.

On the Hurst spit could be seen silhouetted figures such as the dog hurtling past its owner to cock a leg against a post. Presumably unaware of the urination, Santa rested his bike against the pillar, and another dog game scampering by for a frolic with the first. Fulfilling his social duty, the dog’s owner toted a filled poo bag.

Mathew, Becky, and Ian, with Scooby, arrived for the Christmas holiday at intervals during the afternoon. Tess and Poppy are to follow on later. Jackie fed us on a delicious cottage pie with crisp carrots and cabbage. I drank Doom Bar, and I’m not bothered about what the others chose.

We hope that, tonight, Santa will find his way to the house. So we left some guiding lights on.

Dawn Over The Isle Of Wight

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This morning my muse woke me with a start and uttered something about catching Dawn. What had Dawn done? I wondered. And who was she, anyway? Then it dawned on me. This was an invitation to watch a pink sky over the Isle of Wight. I prised myself out of bed, staggered into some clothes, and joined Jackie who was engaged in defrosting the car windscreen.

Down Downton Lane we hurtled, and came to an abrupt halt in the nearest coastal car park. I kept my eyes open long enough to operate the camera and totter back into the car.

The single baleful eye of The Needles lighthouse gave the impression that the Loch Ness Monster had moved house, and a solitary gull was up early.

This afternoon we shopped at Odd Spot in Burley

then went on driveabout. The oaks

opposite Longmead Farm have all but lost their leaves now.

Horses in the field now wear their rugs,

and a vast snuffling sow wandered out to investigate my activities.

Our return trip took us along Rhinefield Ornamental Drive.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic liver casserole, mashed potatoes, crunchy carrots and green beans. I drank water, and Jackie didn’t.

Ever-Changing Skies

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Aaron of A.P. Maintenance has recently completed the last section of fencing, and reorganised the compost bins. Today, he and his nephew Rory took away some of the resultant rubbish. This photograph is one of the few that I was able to take today in sunshine and with a dry camera.

During the rest of the day I was in and out to the garden attempting a few photographs of plants enjoying the sunshine and the showers. Perhaps only the duck and the frog were really in their element. The rain bejewelled primulas, daffodils, camellias, clematis cirrhosa, hellebores, iris, pulmonaria, and faux poppy sat for me quite nicely.

By mid-afternoon I conceded victory to the wind which enforced such rapid changes in the skies that all this last batch of pictures were produced within minutes during which rain fell continuously. Clouds rolled rapidly across the Heavens, sometimes concealing, sometimes revealing the sun

throwing its glowing light on this holly trunk against a sludgy bank of cloud.

This evening we dined on minced beef pie, creamy mashed potato and swede, red cabbage, crunchy carrots, leeks, and onions. I finished the merlot.

A Dust Bath

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This is the second of my 7 day nature series on Facebook.

It appeared originally in https://derrickjknight.com/2014/04/29/a-fascinating-collage/

When we paid for Country Girl last week, Jackie also bought one of her favoured wrought iron candle holders for use as a planter. It has a screw fitted to adjust the height.

Today, I moved it to the gravelled concrete at the southern end of the garden. This involved moving a pile of bricks from where it now stands, and raking gravel to cover that corner. I had to evict a large number of woodlice, slugs, and, one snail.

Jackie had moved a few of the bricks earlier. Feeling the heat she must have removed her jumper, and slung it over the nearest available hanger, thus providing the Country Girl, now dubbed Florence, with a purple hair extension

The white climber is now making its way up the Agriframes Arch straddling the Brick Path.

The clump of geranium palmatums halfway down that shot draws bees so large that they weigh down the petals to which they cling whilst plundering the nectar.

Those plants are at the corner of the Dead End Path, alongside which a large philadelphus is in bloom.

Other plants attracting bees include poppies (this one also has a beetle)

and linaria.

Bees have shaken off so much pollen in the poppy that much smaller insects avail themselves of the bowl for a dust bath.

What, now, is this nosey creature entering the foxglove?

It’s a mosquito making a bee seem comparatively harmless.

My afternoon tasks including gathering up The Head Gardener’s weeding and clippings, and dead-heading roses, mostly in the Rose Garden where a few clematises like this

Hagley’s Hybrid have been incorporated for variety.

For our dinner this evening Jackie produced a stupendous beef stew with new potatoes. So tasty was this that when offered a choice of more stew, sticky toffee pudding, or more stew and sticky toffee pudding, I opted for more stew. That way, I reasoned, I could eat more. Jackie drank Peroni, and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2014, except for the glassful I knocked over the table, which was a shame.

The Beachcomber

I began dead-heading roses this morning.

This afternoon Jackie drove us to Barton on Sea via Milford on Sea. We stopped off at Milford for Sheila to buy a stamp for New Zealand and maybe some wool from the shop that was also a Post Office. The Post Office had been permanently closed a fortnight ago and the wool shop was closed for lunch.

We had more success at Barton, because the Beachcomber Café was fully open for business, and we spent a pleasant time in their garden overlooking the sea.

The gate in a low fence at one end of the plot is now nailed up. This prevents wanderers venturing past the valerian and irises and dropping off the end of the crumbling cliff;

something I all but did, not realising the sward would so abruptly disappear, the first time I photographed the paragliders who were out in force today.

I had been so engrossed in striding across the grass to get near the gliders that I almost walked off the edge. The cyclist in this picture has his black labrador running alongside him.

Today the fliers floated past the café.

This one was joined by birds in the air and by a plane high above them.

The dog-friendly café caters for people of all ages; children in buggies; older people in wheelchairs, with walking aids, and post-operative crutches.

The usual avian hordes scavenging for scraps included an imperious gull,

ravenous starlings,

and spritely sparrows.

The cake on the grass was tossed there by one of the customers. Jackie picked it up and placed it on the plate to encourage a photo opportunity. The last of the starlings was, we think, a juvenile. Perhaps that is why it was content to attempt to feed off an empty plate.

Our plates this evening were far from empty. They contained Jackie’s superb sausage casserole, creamy mashed potatoes, and crisp carrots, cauliflower, and runner beans, followed by sponge cake or rice pudding or both. She drank Hoegaarden, I drank Gilbert and Gaillard Chateauneuf du Pape 2014, and Sheila drank sparkling water.

Pirates Of The Caribbean

Aaron finished painting the landing doors this rainy morning, whilst I, through the medium of scanning further colour slides from March 2004, took a virtual trip to sunny Barbados.

Beginning with a continuation of my perambulations along the sheltered coastline in the vicinity of Port St Charles,

there was a fling of what I think we decided were some kind of sandpiper.

The golden shoreline blended well with the blue sea, over which a solitary gull flew low.

Penetrating the sands, levitating, long-dead, lizard-like limbs defied gravity.

The bridge at top left of the second and third of these pictures is one that Sam had navigated when he arrived in Barbados a few days earlier. I wish I could remember what the factory was. Perhaps a cane sugar plant?

On a sailing trip on one of the race organisers’ yachts, we observed a shipload of piratical tourists. I rather hoped that all those in the water before the black flag set off for the open sea, had been picked up to enjoy the rest of their trip.

Jackie, over dinner, observed that the onions in the savoury rice that accompanied her delicious chili carne were very finely chopped. That made me feel rather chuffed. She drank Hoegaarden and I finished the graves.

Hatchet Pond

This afternoon Jackie drove us to Beaulieu and back. We began at Hatchet Pond, so named because of its shape.

These first two photographs of and over Hatchet Pond have received no editing.

An about turn produced this one.

The recent, now ceased, rains have distributed various pools nearby.

Wandering donkeys did what donkeys do: chomped on thistles,

and prevented a driver from opening his boot to release his dappled collie. A certain amount of persuasion was required to allow the dog its freedom.

Becky and Ian took Scooby for a walk along the waterlogged track around the pond.

On her return Becky’s bag of poop scoop attracted the attention of a pair of swans who lurched along to engage her in conversation. Or perhaps they were just having a hissy-fit.

Each of these birds was tagged.

This birch, stripped of it leaves, embellished one skycape.

Others were enhanced by geese,

or gulls.

Beaulieu Abbey was nicely silhouetted.

In the village’s main street are a number of interesting terraces with long chimneys;

one group of dwellings has fascinating herringbone brickwork.

We payed a visit Steff’s Kitchen in Fairweather’s Garden Centre, where the others enjoyed superb flapjacks and cappuccino’s. My salad lunch had rendered me incapable, but I kept them company.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s scrumptious cottage pie, mashed carrots and swede, crisp cauliflower, and green beans.

P.S. See my reply below to Timi at Lively Twist. She has pointed out a disgraceful omission 🙂