Tag: iris reticulata

Burgeoning Blooms; Snowballing Lichen; Lingering Leftovers

After lunch I published https://derrickjknight.com/2022/02/02/a-knights-tale-97-i-branch-out/

I then wandered around the garden with my camera and photographed

The mimosa in the last picture was planted in the North Breeze garden by the last resident, who kindly gave us the benefit of its hanging over our back drive fence. These are the burgeoning blooms.

Lichen is snowballing in more than one sense of the word.

Seedpods and heads linger from last year; fallen twigs remind me of the clearing up that must be done.

Into which category should be placed this pelargonium and a similar one having bloomed continuously since last spring?

Finally, I offer the next four pages of ‘The Highwayman’ featuring Charles Keeping’s marvellous illustrations:

This evening we dined on succulent roast lamb and mint sauce; crisp roast potatoes and parsnips; crunchy carrots; and tender runner beans, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Azinhaga de Ouro Reserva 2019.

An Appeal For Help

This morning was wet and dull.

Light rain glistened on the dimly lit garden foliage seen from the bedroom windows.

After lunch the sun smiled down and spread a little joy.

It was warm enough for Aaron to mow Mistletoe Cottage’s lawn wearing a T-shirt.

I wandered around at ground level noting roses including

Peach Abundance,

Margaret Merrill,

and Festive Jewel:

 

fuchsias such as Delta’s Sarah:

and the flowering pieris piercing the lawn.

Iris Reticulatas have penetrated the Weeping Birch Bed at the point where the honesty blooms are giving way to the soon to be transparent seed medallions.

Brightly burnished blowflies’ metallic blue bodies mutated into rusty red.

In the meantime Nugget continues his parental duties. So diligently is he zooming backwards and forwards to his nest which may well be in the garden of North Breeze, that he has lost interest in hiding. If his family is domiciled on our neighbour’s property, we will not consider him disloyal because we know that avian boundaries are not the same as ours.

“Where’s Nugget?” (76)

This afternoon, in order to prevent bigger birds from snaffling our robin’s food, Jackie had wired up the outside of their feeder, leaving a robin sized access hole.

While I watched the news this evening, Jackie sat with a glass of Heineken on the patio.

Suddenly Nugget perched, chirping, on the back of the chair next to her. She turned. They made eye contact. Her familiar cocked his to one side and continued tweeting.

“What is it?”, Jackie asked.

A pause. She then said “I know. I’ll come and sort it out.”

He flew ahead of her, stopped in the centre of the path outside the kitchen window, and continued to call until she got up and followed him.

Still flying ahead of Jackie, he perched in the wisteria, waiting while she removed the chicken wire from his larder.

He flew past her head, chirruped his thanks, entered the container, and sped off to feed his brood.

After this we dined on roast pork, chipolata sausages, piquant cauliflower cheese, carrots, broccoli and cabbage with which Jackie continued her Hoegaarden and I finished the Fleurie.

 

 

 

His Favourite Suet Pellets

More sunshine periodically penetrated the clouds today.

Jackie spent much of the morning on general garden maintenance while I wandered around with a camera. Apart from the rhododendrons in the two pictures above

I focussed on two more flanking the Gazebo Path.

Bees were very busy. One filled its yellow sacs while flitting from one bristly borage plant to another.

The wisteria is really past its best, yet still interested a larger apian specimen.

Was it an attempt at camouflage that caused another to colour coordinate with its target orange poppy? On the left of this picture stands a spent seed head which will need decapitation in order to promote a new flower.

Clematises are today represented by Marie Boisselot scaling her obelisk above her Erigeron carpet;

by Niobe, seen against the kitchen wall alongside

Star of India scaling the wisteria arbour;

by Dr Ruppel (see doesitevenmatter3 comment below)

climbing above the Brick Path;

and by one of the Montanas supported by the now fading lilac.

Iris reticulates are quite prolific.

Offerings from the Rose Garden include

For Your Eyes Only,

Gloriana,

and Festive Jewel.

From the Pond Bed towards the copper beech the eye is taken back to the Rose Garden.

While I stood before the wisteria arbour horizontal rockets zoomed over my shoulder aiming for the bird feeders beneath it.

One of these was a wing-flailing Nugget

intent on giving his offspring a taste for his favourite suet pellets.

Now, “Where’s Nugget?” (75)

This evening we dined on spicy pepperoni pizza with plentiful fresh salad, with which Jackie drank Heineken and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2018

 

 

Raindrops

It was a shame that we were only due sunshine and lack of rain this morning, because I needed to be at home for the Openreach engineer engaged by BT. I won’t dwell on this, but, although the man turned up on time the problem is not resolved. It didn’t help that he hadn’t been told what Friday’s engineer had done and that he had been sent for an installation rather than a repair. Another technician is to attend tomorrow.

I did manage to wander round the garden before heavy rain set in for the afternoon.

We have numerous hellebores;

a prolific variety of camellias;

iris reticulatas;

and snowdrops coming into bloom throughout.

One of the occupants of the Dragon Bed cradles her egg;

another has recovered well after Aaron’s spinal surgery.

After lunch, with raindrops splattering on the roof of the car and slaloming down the windscreen, we took a drive into the forest.

The watery Black Lane, in the murk, lived up to its name.

Many of our roads are now irrigated by overflowing ditches and waterlogged fields.

Braggers Lane, with its

rippling reflective bubbling pools stretching alongside, is a good example.

 

Despite the banked verges, the fields are very generous with their excess water.

Woodland is a little meaner.

A group of horses, some wearing waterproof rugs, simply tolerated the downfall.

Further along, on Thatchers Lane, fallen. lichen-coated branches, recently at home on dry land, are reflected in their own pools. Drinks cans now bob beside them.

Long haired goats foraged in the grass alongside Fish Street. One inquisitive creature raised its head briefly before getting on with its late lunch.

Sheep sheltering on London Lane wondered why I was standing there getting wet.

At Avon thatchers seemed to have called it a day. It seemed a good idea, so we set off for home.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s nicely matured sausage casserole; crisp roast potatoes; firm Brussels sprouts; and tricolour carrots with which I finished the Malbec.

 

 

 

Up And Down The Garden Path

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN THE GROUP TO ACCESS ITS GALLERY, INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS OF WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE BY SCROLLING DOWN AND CHECKING BOX AT BOTTOM RIGHT
Between phone calls wrestling with internet connection problems, while Jackie began the process of moving the less hardy plants to their winter quarters in the greenhouse, I wandered around the garden inspecting the surprises it still holds for us. Being a natural optimist I hoped I would be able to post my findings later.

We have a profusion of prolific fuchsias, not all of which I can name. A bee clambered dozily into one of the Delta’s Sarahs.

Cyclamens grace the stone tubs on the front wall, and various beds, such as that of the Weeping Birch, also home to asters, begonias, geraniums, petunias, bidens, and a red carpet rose.

Begonias

 geraniums and petunias also bloom in other beds and containers.


 

The primula survives in the West Bed; a little blue iris reticulata in the raised bed; a clematis once again scales the potting shed trellis;

the ubiquitous verbena bonariensis, such as that in a container in front of the garage, stands proud beside its neighbouring nasturtiums, and the honeysuckle and solanum ascending the right hand trellis.

This morning glory may have been a late developer, but it is making up for lost time; hot lips are persistently, provocatively, pursed.

My wanderings involved a few trips up and down the Brick Path.

It must be more than thirty years since I bought our now threadbare but structurally sound Chesterfield sofa from Heal’s. This afternoon it was removed for reupholstering.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent pork chops with mustard and almonds; new potatoes; crisp carrots; tender cabbage and sautéed peppers and onions. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while Elizabeth drank Hop House lager and I drank Réserve de Bonpas 2016. This meal prompted me tell the relevant story that was told in ‘Chamberlayne Road’.