hydrangea – Page 4 – derrickjknight

The Heyday Of The Cinema

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This is the view from our bedroom window that got me staggering downstairs for a camera at 4.30 a.m.

Later on Jackie and I both tidied, weeded, and cleared sections of the garden, adding to the compost heap. Jackie then planted more flowers and I continued with ‘A Knight’s Tale’, extracting edited sections of ‘A Retirement Project’ and ‘Where’s The Tripod?’, yielding more experiences of the heyday of the cinema.

In the garden the marigolds and Black-eyed Susans cone has reached its peak.

Hemerocallis

and lilies,

especially these giants in the Rose Garden, flourish everywhere.

A new dahlia has popped up in the New Bed,

where pollen-laden bees plunder poppies, the seed pods of which produce nodding sculptures.

Schoolgirl rose bends in a bow in obeisance to Jacqueline du Pre against a backcloth of white Hawkshead fuchsia. I was lucky to get these shots in, because not long afterwards the Head Gardener had tied up the errant rose.

Visible in this view across to the New Bed

is a thriving potted hydrangea;

shifting the eye slightly to the left offers the view across the Concrete Patio.

The aptly named rose Summer Wine

and golden Summer Time soar over the Rose Garden.

In between further sessions of clearing up after the Head Gardener, I watched Wimbledon tennis match featuring Britons Heather Watson, Johanna Konta, and Andy Murray.

This evening we dined on cod fish cakes, ratatouille, Jersey potatoes, carrots, caiuliflower, and runner beans. And very tasty it all was. We both drank Cimarosa Reserva Privada sauvignon blanc 2016, which rather helped.

A Conundrum 2

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We took it easy today. Prompted by today’s post from thebikinggardener I wandered around the garden to see how our Hellebores are doing.

Some way behind Geoff’s, ours are coming through.

Many primulas have so far survived the winter.

The shattered bits of cherub Jackie found in the undergrowth a couple of years ago have gained a fine coating of moss.

The remnants of honesty, hollowing ovals on stems, blends well with the weeping birch bark.

The parent viburnum Bontantense and its two children are blooming well. One joins with a leycesteria in beginning to mask Aaron’s new fencing.

Alongside the winter flowering cherry

and beneath the crab apples, a blackbird dropped down for a change of diet.

This pieris takes my mind off the fact that the grass needs cutting.

A few youthful pink cheeks survive amid those ageing, wrinkly, and skeletal ones of this hydrangea.

Finally, the conundrum. Who has dragged a clutch of eggshells from the compost heap across the New Bed? Well, we did spot a rat, hands and nose pressed to the pane, peering, like Tiny Tim, through our window when we ate our Christmas dinner.

Just before 4.30 p.m., we dashed out to Barton on Sea to watch the sun sink into Christchurch Bay. I did not stage the photograph of the woman kicking it back up into the sky.

A while later we dined at Lal Quilla. My choice was lamb shatkora massala; Jackie’s prawn sallee. We shared an egg paratha, mushroom rice, and sag bahji; and both drank Kingfisher.

Making It Through The Winter

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Once the heavy overnight frost fringing these heuchera leaves had thawed, the garden was warmed by the sun

which was low enough to light lily leaves and grasses,

while pearly jewels dripped from naked and semi-clad twigs,

and lingering rose leaves.

Autumn-hued hydrangeas hang on to life.

The first clusters of precocious onion-smelly alliums have pierced the soil,

and a pendulous leycesteria has already produced its kindergarten mobiles.

Shadows slanted across the Shady and

the Brick Paths.

Three winter flowering pink Viburnum Bodnantense Dawn,shrubs are doing what is expected of them.

One camellia has begun to flower and has even provided evidence that some flies are capable of making it through the winter.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s brilliant beef in red wine, boiled new potatoes, and piquant cauliflower cheese. I finished the merlot.

How Ridiculous Is That?

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On a dry, but much duller, day we spent the morning on largely abortive outings. First we drove to New Milton for a visit to the bank, to seek a lavatory seat, and to investigate wardrobes. The bank was satisfactory, but boring. We couldn’t find a throne (slang for a lavatory seat). We thought Bradbeers might stock wardrobes, but its outlet in Station Road didn’t have furniture.

OK, we thought we would put the wardrobes on the back burner, turned round, and drove in the opposite direction to Lymington where that wonderful hardware emporium, Knights, was bound to have a range of the required seating. Unfortunately Knights was closed. Permanently.

Back we travelled to Old Milton where there was a street I thought might have a suitable furniture shop. And blow me, there was Bradbeers furniture outlet with a wide range of wardrobes. We will be able to find something there once we have measured up.

Milford Supplies did have a limited range of toilet seats, none of which, we thought, suited our requirements.

By this time we needed to stock up on petrol, which, in the event, was all that we bought. How ridiculous is that?

Jackie has begun to transfer her hanging baskets to cold frames for the winter. In offering most minimal assistance, I noticed a self-seeded pansy pushing through the patio paving. It is a winter one of course, but there it sat beside an autumn leaf.

Outside the back door stands an orange poppy, normally long gone by autumn.

Still thriving geraniums merge with autumn-hued hydrangeas;

clematis Star of India is one of several blooming again;

foxgloves refuse to die back;

and flowering nasturtiums trail tendrils everywhere.

Approaching the middle of November, how ridiculous is that?

This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent lamb curry, onion rice, and cauliflower bahji. The Culinary Queen drank diet Pepsi, and I finished the malbec.

Going For A Paddle

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On another summery September day Jackie and I nursed colds indoors whilst Aaron and Sean virtually completed removing the grizelinia hedge. I scanned another couple of dozen colour slides from September 1982. These were from a holiday in Brittany enjoyed with our friends Ann and Don. Here is a selection:

The group nearest the centre of this underpopulated beach include Jessica, Ann, and Sam.

A gentleman emerged from the sea clutching a cluster of seaweed;

a string of gleeful children danced their way to the ocean;

a lone woman passing them traversed the beach.

Hand in hand, Jessica and Ann led Sam into the water

and swung him to meet the wavelets.

Ann continued the gymnastics

while Jessica went for a paddle.

Sam, dried off, and ready for bed, told his sister all about it.

Attached to our rented gite was a shed with a corrugated iron roof

that blended quite well with the ageing hydrangeas.

This evening we dined on pizza and I drank Doom Bar.

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.

Spoiler Alert

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We were both reprieved from gardening duties this morning by the rain.

I scanned a few more colour slides from 1981/2.

Here Sam enjoys swinging in a hammock at the Drapers’ home in Meldreth near Royston in Cambridgeshire. This was August 1981.

In December that year we had a rare heavy fall of snow in Gracedale Road, Furzedown, South London. Matthew and Becky made the best of it. That was probably the only time in their childhoods that it was possible to create such a magnificent snowman.

Another Cambridgeshire venue was the home of Nigel and Judy Pearson at Pastures farmhouse in Caxton. At a Christmas party there, Sam tucked into his first pheasant. I remember biting a piece of shot. This was also the first time I had sampled such fare.

In September 1982 we spent a couple of weeks at the Vachettes’ chateau at Fontaine in Normandy.

This is the garden in which Jessica basks in a deckchair with Arnoux, Marie-Helene, and the Vachette parents. As can be seen by the colour of the grass this was a very hot autumn.

Lying at Jessica’s feet

is Louisa in her carrycot;

while Sam enjoys the toys she will soon grow into.

This afternoon the sun shone, not only here in Downton, but also in Wimbledon where a tense Gentlemen’s Final took place. I watched it on television.

I will not reveal the winner, but his wife looks on.

Afterwards I wandered around the garden, doing some sporadic dead-heading, whilst Jackie watered some more hanging baskets

containing petunias, mimuluses and lobelia.

She also slaked the the thirst of this urn containing petunias, trailing geraniums, and bidens, with penstemons at the side,

suspended in the Rose Garden.

The hydrangea at the corner of Elizabeth’s Bed is thriving;

as are the lilies and clematises in the New Bed;

and the hebes are coming into bloom.

This evening we dined on Mister Chatty Man’s Hordle Chinese Take Away. Jackie drank a blend of Hoegaarden and Bavaria non-alcoholic beer, while I consumed more of the Carignan Vieilles Vignes.

The Colour Wheel

More clearing up of clippings was required this morning. On my way through the garden, I had a chat with our friendly baby blackbird. Since its father no longer, from a safe distance, follows it around he must have decided this little creature, who has known us all its brief life, can fend for itself.

The cocked head indicates a listening ear.

For Your Eyes Only, Rose of the Year 2015, has its first bloom.

According to basic colour theory, analogous colours are any three which are side by side on a 12 part colour wheel, such as yellow-green, yellow, and yellow-orange. Usually one of the three shades predominates. Complementary colours are any two which are directly opposite each other, such as red and green and red-purple and yellow-green.

I think this tiny yellow-green cricket, distinguishable from it’s grasshopper relative by the length of its pearly antennae, must have been studying this, as it perched on a red dahlia with violet-tinged petals, and yellow, orange-shaded stamens. Analogous or complimentary? Food for thought.

I became quite excited when I noticed an exotic new butterfly resting on a pink hydrangea.

It proved to be a fallen rose petal.

Margery and Paul came for a visit this afternoon. As always, we had enjoyable conversation, then made a tour of the garden. Our friends were suitably appreciative of the changes made during the last year.

Jackie and I dined this evening on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, Garner’s pickled onions, and Freshona gherkins. My lady drank Hoegaarden, and I abstained.

The Tour Continues

This morning we drove to Highcliffe for coffee with Caroline and Keith Martin, with whom Margery had put us in touch. This was a very enjoyable meeting. All thanks to Margery.

Meanwhile our garden tour continues.

We call this Elizabeth’s red climbing rose, because it is in a bed she cleared last autumn.

A bee burrowed into one of the recently blooming rhododendron flowers,

which can be seen alongside the Phantom Path, so called because of an eponymous ghost-like hydrangea, not yet flowering and not seen in this shot.

These are views from each end of the Heligan Path.

Another winding path leads from the proposed rose garden to the back drive. Jackie, on this very hot day, is to be seen watering her new tub planting.

Forming a kind of clef in branching off from this is a gravel track surrounding the Oval Bed. Along the back fence is Elizabeth’s Bed.

It is only this year that we have paid due attention to the small front garden. The freshly planted blue hydrangea has yet to mature, and is consequently dwarfed by the red potted foxglove.

It was the creation of this previously ill-defined path that gave us the necessary impetus.

The head gardener correctly informs me that two days ago I incorrectly termed The Brick Path The Agriframes Arch Path,

because it also contains The Gothic Arch. We erected this last year and, on one side, retrained two roses that had been lost in the jungle, and on the other, planted two clematises.

Just a few yards down Downton Lane

honeysuckle

and white roses festoon the hedgerows. (are those spider’s eggs behind the central bloom?)

After the usual long stint in the garden, Jackie roasted the succulent pork, and the crunchy crackling; baked the crisp Yorkshire pudding; and produced the tasty gravy for our dinner, whilst I prepared the vegetables. These latter included carrots, green beans, and mange tout; but I was particularly proud of the Anya potatoes, three weeks past their best before date, that, after complete desprouting and partial peeling, tasted as good as new, although they were somewhat reduced in size. I drank Casillero del Diablo cabernet sauvignon reserva 2013, but I was enjoying the potatoes before I began it.

And What Came Next?

This morning’s bouquet includes:

petunias;

clematis Polish Spirit;

foxgloves;

hydrangeas;

and delicate gladioli.

A veritable cacophony reverberated along the kitchen facia as the parent starlings jointly strove to satisfy their screeching offspring.

Whilst Jackie continued the creative gardening, I did the ironing and applied the first layer of wax to the new stair-rails.

This afternoon our friend Harri and her dog Inka came for a brief visit.

I have chosen to illustrate the third of my Five Photos – Five Stories with a set of five photos taken in Brittany in September 1982. They were themselves to provide a board book I made for grandchildren Emily and Oliver quite a few years later.

Whilst I was contemplating getting up in the morning in the bedroom of a gite where Jessica, our two children, and Ann and Don spent an enjoyable holiday, a buzzing on a windowpane alerted me to the presence of a fly. I don’t know where the original book is now, but I will endeavour to write this in the language I would have used for small children.

One day a fly landed on a curtain flapping in the breeze.

Suddenly a butterfly landed on the windowpane. The fly looked at it,

and dropped onto the sill. So did the butterfly.

The fly walked towards the butterfly and did a little dance.

They reached out a hand to each other, and –

What came next?

Each of the children gave what may be considered a stereotypical response. If you would like to suggest a suitable finale, I will wait a couple of days before revealing what my grandchildren said. I wonder if anyone will match them.

This evening we dined at The Family House in Totton, enjoying set meal M3 in the usual friendly atmosphere. We both drank Tsingtao beer.