honeysuckle – Page 3 – derrickjknight

Careless Mother

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A rare glimpse of the sun this morning reminded me that I had neglected to offer any photographs of the front garden in yesterday’s post.

These are the flowers fronting the garage doors. I am sure that the Head Gardener would wish to have it pointed out that she swept this area later.

Two general shots display Japanese anemones and a couple of clematises;

and petunias, hydrangea, and erigeron. The tree is a winter flowering cherry.

On the trellis honeysuckle and solanum are prominent,

while petunias in hanging baskets and orange nasturtiums add vibrant colour.

Although patches of blue sky would peek between occasional gaps in the threatening clouds, we didn’t see much more of the sun.

I spent much of the day on form-filling and other administrative tasks. This afternoon Jackie drove me to the soon to be closed down Hordle Post Office to avail myself of a box that would take larger envelopes. We then drove into the forest.

At East Boldre it seemed sensible to stop as a donkey foal wandered in front of the car.

Not worried in the slightest, the mother lived up to the reputation of her kind, and tore at thistles

and brambles in contented oblivion,

whilst her offspring, after a little thought, ventured back into the road,

causing an Openreach van to give the creature a wide berth when it stopped to enjoy a leisurely scratch. Either the adult was extremely negligent or she considered that the youngster had learned that it had the right of way on New Forest roads. This is almost certainly the same mother and child I photographed in April soon after the baby’s birth, when it was sprawled out across the verge.

Further on, beneath a heather covered hillock at Crockers Clump,

on the edge of a Stygian pool,

a long tree had fallen across the sward, coming to rest against one still upright. In compliance with regulations in the interests of ecology this tree will remain where it lies until it rots away.

This evening we dined on succulent chicken Kiev served with new potatoes, crunchy carrots, and toothsome green sprouting broccoli. Jackie drank Hoegaarden annoying 1445, and I drank Parra Alta malbec 2016.

Ladybird, ladybird…….

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As shown from the solanum and honeysuckle on the trellis, our front garden remained free of ash from next door’s bonfire,

and, although some the precipitation, such as this on the pulmonaria

and Japanese anemones, remains,

the fire has died down and we are able to see the garden views again, and beds like that of the Dragon are able once more to savour the sunlight.

This decorative dahlia

sharing the Oval Bed with orange hawkweed,

bidens, phlox, and rampant rudbeckia, basks in a more pleasant source of warmth.

Gladioli and sweet peas retain their pristine whiteness;

contents of the iron urn cascade over the Brick Path;

and these potted chrysanthemums enjoy the increase of light provided by the removal of the North Breeze jungle.

Splendid stinging nettles, like this one in Elizabeth’s Bed, are making their presence felt. They will have to go.

Little cherry tomatoes are ripening;

the grass looks lush;

and the Weeping Birch Bed,

Kitchen Bed,

and Rose Garden, fresh again.

Now, what do we have here? “Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home; your house is on fire and your children are gone.”

This afternoon we are on our way to Emsworth for a family celebration of Becky’s birthday. We will stay overnight and I will report on that tomorrow. It will be an Italian meal at Nicolino’s.

Do You Like Butter?

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This morning, while Jackie weeded and I cleared up, Aaron smoothed concrete edging around the greenhouse base and realigned a section of The Head Gardener’s Walk.

At the other end of the garden the recent plantings in the Oval Bed have matured;

honeysuckle swings among the day lilies and petunias in the Weeping Birch Bed;

Violas grimace appealingly in the barrier tubs;

in the Rose Garden lilies still sway beside the Potting Shed,

while potted petunias and bedded penstemons offer accompaniment to the roses.

The view across the centre of the garden from the Shady Path has been opened up.

Out of sight on the far side pink and white sweet peas climb for Bruce.

Similarly hued fuchsias dangle from a pot beside the Gazebo Path.

I’m sure we were not the only children who held buttercups to friends’ chins, asking “Do you like butter?”. If your chin glowed yellow, you did. If not, you didn’t. Noticing this bee’s pollen coated butt, I asked the question.

“I’m not listening to this”, cried the bee, buzzing off with alacrity

This evening we enjoyed a second sitting of Mr Chan’s fare, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank a delicious gold medal winning Saint Emilion grand cru, a birthday present from Danni and Andy.

After this, prompted by Becky, I watched the highlights of the fourth day of the Test Match between England and South Africa. This turned out to be a good call.

Christmas Fairies

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This morning we awoke to a garden dripping with decorations supplied by the Christmas fairies, some of whom still flitted among the trees:

This afternoon we are off to Lyndhurst for the last of the Christmas shopping, then on to West End to visit Mum then share a meal with Elizabeth at Jewels Indian restaurant. I don’t expect to have enough oomph left on our return to post any more to day, so will report on anything of moment tomorrow.

Winter Quarters

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Fibre optic broadband installation takes place in the exchange, and we cannot obtain a projected time for the work. It could be as late as midnight. James Peacock will therefore bring the router tomorrow morning. So the uploading struggles continue today.

Today’s fresh blooms in the rose garden are those of Crown Princess Margareta; and the honeysuckle on the entrance arch is under the reasonable impression that Spring has arrived.

This afternoon we visited Dials on the bottom corner of Quay Street, Lymington, to buy a Christmas present;

then walked down to the quayside. A friendly young fisherman I have featured both in Lymington and in Mudeford, was steering his little boat into dock. I wonder if his

and this one are kinds of coracle.

My young friend explained that he spends the period from the winter months to Easter at Lymington, because this calmer harbour is much safer than the other, which is exposed to the open sea. Crab pots, ropes, and buoys are neatly piled on the quay.

There was no other activity on the water with its forest of masts,

except for that of mallards and gulls ignoring the signs forbidding diving and mooring.

This evening we enjoyed a second helping of Hordle Chinese Take Away’s delicious food. Jackie drank Hoegaarden whilst I chose Doom Bar.

Fire In The Sky

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I began the day by managing to load all the pictures missing from yesterday’s post.

Flushed with success on this morning bright and crisp enough to bring tinges of pink, like those still visible in the garden, I ventured outside with my camera.

Although the curtain of weeping birch leaves is preparing to shed its beads, and the hosts of honesty reveal its seeds,

we still have plenty of colourful blooms, such as these dahlias, Japanese anemones, and fuchsias;

while begonias, honeysuckle, nicotianas, and penstemons persist.

This afternoon we went on driveabout.

On the moors between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu, the lowering sun gilded the topmost bracken fronds.

As we approached Beaulieu, ponies and cattle shared the grazing.

The equines wandered along the road seeking traffic to disrupt;

further on, a trio was more interested in the fodder.

Hatchet Pond itself was still and reflective.

On our return we diverted to Milford on Sea to catch the sunset. Looking east towards the Isle of Wight the sky wore pastel pinks and indigo hues;

contrasting with the fiery flames lighting up the west. As the sun receded into the water its radial beams streamed upwards.

This evening we dined on cheese-centred haddock fish cakes, mashed potato and swede, crunchy cauliflower, carrots, and runner beans, with which we both drank Prestige & Cavet sauvignon blanc 2014.

Can It Be Mid-October?

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The lingering virus from which we have now recovered has really rather reduced gardening for a month. Today, I wandered around on a survey mission, and was pleasantly impressed.

The grass could do with cutting, but there is also colour in abundance.

Dahlias we would expect;

and chrysanthemums;

but clematises?;

roses Just Joey, Margaret Merrill,

Penny Lane, or Altissimo?,

begonias?,

geraniums,

and fuchsias in abundance?

Not to mention honeysuckle,

or bees frequenting asters.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious pasta beef arrabiata. Her beverage was Hoegaarden, and mine Santa Julia malbec 2015.

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.

Our Industrial Past

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I forgot to mention yesterday that when I returned home I found that my cheque from Laithwaite’s had been delivered.

The Félicité Perpétue rose in the front garden has been sending thorny tentacles across the drive. This morning I restrained them with green wire.

Alongside the marguerites that accompany the rose,

a nasturtium trumpeted its presence.

Opposite, the clematis Mrs. N. Thompson and solanums

twine amongst the honeysuckle from which bees flit to and fro.

This new hollyhock is in bloom along the back drive.

In June 1981, I made a series of colour slides of gasometers. I scanned them this afternoon.

Here are sections of side views;

and one of a top.

There are glimpses of three in this image.

I cannot, for the life of me, remember where these were. Maybe the car wrecks could provide a pointer for anyone who may help identify them;

or maybe these snapdragons? Perhaps not.

The major problem for anyone attempting to assist is that these emblems of our industrial past may no longer exist.

This is what Wikipedia has to say about our gasometers: ‘A gas holder, sometimes called a gasometer, is a large container in which natural gas or town gas is stored near atmospheric pressure at ambient temperatures. The volume of the container follows the quantity of stored gas, with pressure coming from the weight of a movable cap. Typical volumes for large gasholders are about 50,000 cubic metres (1,800,000 cu ft), with 60 metres (200 ft) diameter structures.’

Today, there are very few left standing. The reason for this is described in this short video made by Tom Scott:

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SopJr0yHt-w&w=560&h=315]

One iconic gasometer, protected, or, listed since earlier this year, is visible from The Oval cricket ground. I spent many a day in the summers of my teens watching the rise and fall of this famous cricketing symbol. Wikipedia provides this photograph.

For our dinner this evening, the Culinary Queen produced smoked haddock, piquant cauliflower cheese (recipe), new potatoes, crunchy carrots, and sautéed leeks and peppers. We both drank Marlborough Oyster Bay sauvignon blanc 2015. Needless to say, it was all delicious.

Tom Daley

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Jackie continued her creative miracles on the various beds. I rendered sporadic assistance in dead-heading, weeding, clearing up, and humping bags of compost.

Here are current views of The Head Gardener’s Walk

and The Gazebo Path, looking across Margery’s bed in which her hollyhocks are now in bloom.

Petunias in hanging baskets are ubiquitous,

as are lilies of many different kinds in various beds. Currently they share The New Bed with dahlias and clematises.

In the Rose Garden, before I’d finished dead-heading, the pink carpet rose was laid out before Love Knot, poppies, and petunias;

and For Your Eyes Only caught the sun.

Particularly in the morning, falling petals are suspended from spidery filaments. Spinning in the breeze some,

like this fuchsia, have the appearance of Tom Daley taking off,

or, such as this honeysuckle, shuttles aiming for space stations.

In case anyone needs to know this is what Wikipedia has to say about Tom Daley:

‘Thomas Robert “Tom” Daley (born 21 May 1994)^[2] is a British diver and television personality. Daley specialises in the 10 metre platform event and was the 2009 FINA World Champion in the individual event at the age of 15. He started diving at the age of seven and is a member of Plymouth Diving Club. He has made an impact in national and international competitions from age 9. He represented Great Britain at the 2008 Summer Olympics where he was Britain’s youngest competitor, the youngest competitor of any nationality outside the sport of swimming, and the youngest to participate in a final.^[5] In 2009, Daley reached a career best ranking of number one in the FINA World Diving Rankings for the ten-metre platform.^[6]

He won two gold medals for England at the 2010 Commonwealth Games, in the 10 metre synchro diving (with Max Brick) and the 10 m Individual Platform competition,^[7] and won the bronze medal for Great Britain in the individual competition at the 2012 Summer Olympic Games.^[8]

After his success at the 2012 Olympic Games and a summer of great sporting interest amongst the public in the UK, television network ITV approached Daley to have a role in their new celebrity diving reality TV show Splash!. Daley made his debut in the show’s premiere on 5 January 2013 as a mentor to the celebrity competitors taking part.^[9]‘

With the increasing warmth, the butterflies are back.

Here a Peacock performs its trapeze routine on a hebe.

Ronan, from Tom Sutton, came to fix our boiler which has stopped working. Unfortunately there were several issues, one being a faulty control box which he will have to obtain tomorrow. We won’t stink, because we have an immersion heater in the shower.

Tonight we dined on Jackie’s wholesome heart casserole, creamy mashed potato, and crunchy carrots. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, and I made a start on the excellent Brancott Estate merlot/cabernet sauvignon 2014 given to me for my birthday by Shelly and Ron.