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Once hailed as ‘one of Hampshire’s loveliest gardens’ we last visited Apple Court Garden, under its previous ownership in the spring of 2014. Elizabeth had also viewed it before then. Today it was open under the NGS (National Gardens Scheme) which raises money for charity. The three of us went along to be profoundly disappointed. Certainly we have endured a very dry summer, but that was no reason for the general air of decay and lack of care, especially as the entrance fee and prices of rather sad plants for sale were high.
My camera worked hard to find things of beauty to photograph.
Jackie and Elizabeth studied the plants for sale, on the way to the entrance hut.
Such colour as there was on this stretch – or anywhere else for that matter, appeared in scattered spots, like this spiderwort tradescantia,
or this attractive two-tone crocosmia.
Elizabeth having paid our £5 a head entrance fee we scoured the beds for interest. Here Jackie contemplates the parched earth.
The distant agapanthuses looked well enough;
This bright phormium sent up reddish feathered foliage;
a decorative Turk’s Head lily swayed to
Joe Pye Weed is attractive to bees. We noticed none in the garden.
A modicum of interest was engendered by the emergence of other visitors in the gaps between the beech hedges.
At least, we imagined, the water lilies
and the carp in the Japanese garden would sparkle. Sadly the once clear water was too murky for the lens to penetrate to any depth; spiders’ webs festooned the wooden screen;
the surrounding path had become overgrown and the gravel so sparse as to offer raised circular stones as booby traps.
Comparisons are odious – so the old saying goes. Well, in our view this is no longer a lovely garden. A glance at the last two images in the post highlighted in the first paragraph above will show the difference in the carp’s pool. Our own garden, containing far more colour per square metre, is about a quarter of a mile from Apple Court. I am unashamed in making these two comparisons.
This evening Jackie produced, for the three of us, succulent roast lamb; perfectly crisp roast potatoes; Yorkshire pudding; runner beans from the garden with crunchy carrots and soft mange touts; and onion gravy so thick as to require a spoon for serving. Jackie having drunk her Hoegaarden on the patio beforehand, abstained from alcohol, while Elizabeth and I drank Castillero del Diablo reserva Merlot 2017.
At last, this morning, the preparation of the new bed was completed. This involved composting the soil and tidying up the edges. I had to fetch bracken compost, having mixed it with horse manure, in several trips with a wheelbarrow; spread the mixture across the recently prepared area; and dig it all in. Having done this, I made a defined trench between the bed and the grass with a hand trowel. A thrush which had obviously been watching me, waited until I sat down, then hopped into the trench and began to pull up and consume worms and other creatures. Had it been the robin, he would, no doubt, have done his foraging under my feet. The thrush, being a more timid bird, waited until the coast was clear.
Jackie continued with her planting and weeding. She also changed the location of plants which were not thriving because of the nature of the soil, or the amount of sun or shade they were subject to.
After lunch we sat with Elizabeth on the benches by what will become the scented bed, and marvelled at the range of insects swarming on the Joe Pye Weed, which is a variant of Hemp Agrimony. Apparently Red Admirals use it for breeding on. This cluster has also a number of different flies, bees, and butterflies. I had never knowingly seen a hoverfly before today.
After this, Jackie and I went shopping in Sainsbury’s for some of the ingredients for tonight’s meal.
We then went to visit Mum for a while. She is getting about better now, although she still needs two sticks.
Jackie had bought some samosas yesterday, which I forgot about until she reminded me as we were about to start eating tonight’s Jalfrezi. That didn’t go down too well, especially as Elizabeth, Danni, and I opted to continue drinking Lussac St. Emilion, which we had been consuming whilst I cooked, rather than the Kingfisher Jackie had bought especially. Jackie stuck with the Kingfisher. The vegetable samosas themselves, however, did go down well, as we ate them before the sweets which consisted of blackberry and apple crumble made by Jackie, or apple tart made by the supermarket.
Being an avid reader of these posts, Danni was rather disappointed to discover yesterday what she was going to be eating this evening. She prefers to read about the Knight/Keenan meals after the event. In explaining why we had eaten the same meal two night’s running, I had given her advance notice. Sadly, she knew that tonight we would be consuming chicken Jalfrezi, and that therefore there would be no culinary news to read about. But I could not leave my niece in her unhappy state. And I could not produce a wholly different meal. It seemed logical to add boiled eggs to the dish, thus transforming it in a perfectly legitimate manner.
Now, Danni, whenever anyone poses the old conundrum about which came first, the chicken or the egg, you will always have a ready answer.
