lilac – derrickjknight

Garden Delights

This morning I converted the following posts to Block from Classic edit:

The Camperdown Elm

Tour Guides

Bamboo, Brambles, And Ballerina

I Have Written Down The Process

Ache

I gave The Camperdown Elm and Ache header pictures, and changed the category of the last two to Garden.

Later I carried out a little dead heading and weeding, and after lunch focussed on the delights I had noticed on my way round. These images all show titles in the gallery

This evening we all dined on tender roast lamb; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower, broccoli, and Brussels sprouts; meaty gravy; mint sauce and redcurrant jelly, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the shiraz.

On The Brink Of May

Before watching the Women’s Six Nations rugby decider between England and France this afternoon I wandered around the garden to look at the flowers.

Blossom cascades from two crab apple trees at the front, where pink climbing roses

pink climbing roses cling to the trellis opposite the smiling pansies against the garage door.

Libertia and bluebells are both now ubiquitous,

As are these poppies which start the day in bloom and end it stripped of petals. My job is to dead head them so they will come again tomorrow.

White erigeron and pink honesty are also found everywhere, as in the Cryptomeria Bed, shared with

osteospermum.

We have a number of clematis Montanas, one of which shares the limbs of this lilac.

Various wallflowers are cropping up.

This wisteria has flowered for the first time, while the weathered camellia is showing it age.

Rhododendrons are in their prime.

Camassia and ajuga are more examples of small blue flowers.

We inherited this white blooming shrub from our predecessors. Can anyone identify it? Thanks to Carolyn (doesitevenmatter 3) for Snowmound or Spirea Nipponica

Finally, a few days ago this gravel would have harboured forget-me-nots and other little flowers which will settle anywhere. Now, it has been just one area in which Flo has undertaken strenuous weeding.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent fare with which Jackie drank Hoegarden, I finished the Cabernet Sauvignon, Flo drank Kombucha Raspberry and lemon, and Becky abstained.

A Tall Lean Boy

Today the air was cold and the light dull.

This morning Jackie and I each reached a corner of the bench while weeding the Shady Path. There is just the middle stretch to be completed. A yellow tree peony and a plethora of Welsh poppies can be seen in the surrounding beds.

The clematis Montana weaves about the lilac on the Back Drive.

When literary blogger josbees recommended that I reread chapter 2 of Nicholas Nickleby I had imagined that I would not read the whole book again, but would work my way through scanning Charles Keeping’s illustrations for my readers. In fact I was wrong. As the characters came flooding back to me after more than half a century, this Dickens novel is now one of the few I am happy to read again.

The frontispiece illustration is to ‘A tall lean boy, with a lantern in his hand, issued forth.’

‘Motioning them all out of the room, Mr Nickleby sunk exhausted on his pillow’ demonstrates Mr Keeping’s penchant for sandwiching a section of text into his drawing.

‘The clerk presented himself in Mr Nickleby’s room’ contains the artist’s skill at portraiture. The proximity of the houses seen through the window demonstrates the congested nature of the environment.

‘ ‘Mrs Nickleby,’ said the girl, throwing open the door, ‘here’s Mr Nickleby’ ‘ demonstrates Keeping’s adherence to the text. The young lady has hastily attempted to clean her dirty face with an even dirtier apron.

‘ ‘I have been thinking, Mr Squeers, of placing my two boys at your school’ ‘

‘A minute’s bustle, a banging of the coach doors, a swaying of the vehicle to one side’ exemplifies the artist’s mastery of receding perspective by bursting the foreground range of portraits out of the frame.

Early this evening a friend of Jake, who I photographed Sunset Dancing last December, called to collect a print I had made for him. Jake now lives in The Netherlands, and earns a living skydiving.

Later, we dined on roast chicken thighs and roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, sage and onion stuffing, carrots, cauliflower, and green beans, with meaty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Recital.

A More Manageable Garden

Our own garden is rather more manageable for dodgy knees than yesterday’s veritable undulating park. I took an amble around it this afternoon.

Jackie thought that this very small daffodil, in one of the stone troughs resting on the front wall, had come up blind. In fact it has bloomed later than most.

Behind the troughs rambles a clematis Montana, one of several we have.

One shares its perch with a blue solanum on the arch to the south end of the Brick Path;

another cosies up to the lilac.

This one, adorning the Gazebo was a shrivelled little specimen, barely alive, until Jackie came along and nurtured it. In the foreground of this shot we have a bottle brush plant ready to burst open.

The clematis will soon festoon the top of the arch.

The first of these aquilegias stands beneath the wisteria; the second is at the south end.

This phlox subulata is the sole survival of six planted last year.

Jackie savages this toadflax whenever she finds it growing like the alleged weed it is. There is no doubt, however, that it makes good ground cover.

Another plant whose name escapes the Head Gardener is this rather beautiful little bulb – one of a cluster in the Cryptomeria Bed.

We have two different rhododendrons in the Palm Bed.

The viburnum Plicata now blooms in the West Bed.

Many of our bluebells are either of the incoming Spanish variety or hybrids. Fortunately we do have some native English specimens.

This miniature azalea has accompanied me in all my abodes since it came in a pot presented to me by the foster carers of Parents for Children in 2003. It has now taken up permanent residence in the Kitchen Garden.

For dinner this evening we enjoyed Jackie’s delicious chicken jalfrezi and savoury rice followed by strawberries and cream.

Great Nephews

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN A GROUP TO ACCESS ITS GALLERY, INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS OF WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE BY SCROLLING DOWN AND CHECKING BOX AT BOTTOM RIGHT.

Many of the blooms on the still quite small pink rhododendron, seen in this sculpture’s eye view from Five Ways, are now fully open.

Others recently flourishing include the yellow tree peony, various geraniums, and elegant libertias.

The flamboyant red and yellow tulips are changing their hues with age, while the euphorbias have reached full sculptural maturity.

A clematis Montana festoons the mauve lilac tree.

Orange poppies lead the eye to the marigolds alongside the greenhouse. Similarly the heuchera alongside the Dead End Path echos the recently flourishing copper beach leaves.

This latter path is visible from the patio where we sat with Helen, Shelly, Billy and Max who visited us this morning.

Although his usual cheerful self, poor little Max has chicken pox, so he was a bit thirsty and drowsy. Helen administered the bottle.

Billy was as active as ever, manoeuvring his vehicles, wandering about the garden, and munching chocolate bars. The two boys are Helen’s grandsons and Shelly, Jackie, and my great nephews.

This evening we dined on prawn toasts and Jackie’s superb egg fried rice with a rack of pork ribs in barbecue sauce followed by Easter bread and butter pudding. Should anyone wonder what this is, I would ask what else would you do with weird hot cross buns purchased in error, not having realised that the currants were in fact chocolate chips, other than put them in the freezer in case they might come in useful. Jackie drank sparkling water and I drank Tesco’s finest Médoc 2016

The Darling Buds Of May

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE THEM. REPEAT IF NECESSARY. THIS IS PARTICULARLY USEFUL IN AN OWL HUNT

Today being drier and a little brighter than yesterday, there were enough glimpses of sunlight to be more conducive to garden photography.

New clematises are emerging daily.

Mostly, as with this Piilu, I am grateful for the identity labels, because they all look so much alike.

Star of India, blends well with geranium palmatum.

Petunias abound;

some share their pots with pansies. The new urns, like this one, are all planted up now. Everywhere, honesty is turning to seed medallions.

Lilacs are in full bloom;

and this tree, that had only one leafing branch when we first arrived, is making a remarkable recovery. New trunks have begun to swallow the original pock-marked member.

A few bees, such as this one plundering an orange poppy

and another burrowing into a somewhat perforated pansy risked getting wet for the good of the hive.

On the edge of the rose garden, a single Altissimo bloom lives up to its name,

For Your Eyes Only burgeons within,

and most other bushes, like Absolutely Fabulous and Special Anniversary, are on the verge of bursting forth the darling buds of May.

This rhododendron

enhances the Grass Patch Bed, at the end of which stands the recovering tree mentioned above.

This pivotal patch can be viewed from the tree peony hiding behind the viburnum plicatum;

from the Dead End Path;

and from the Brick Path.

Elsewhere, sculptural alliums, like these in the Palm Bed, are opening out all over.

For our dinner this evening the Culinary Queen produced pork chops coated in mustard and demerara sugar and topped with almonds; boiled, sautéd, and sweet potatoes; cauliflower and carrots; and peppers, tomato, leek, and onion sauce; followed by bread and butter pudding and custard. She drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Reserve des Tuguets madiran 2012.

No Escaping Noel Manchee

Last night I read C. Day Lewis’s foreword to the Folio Society selection of Robert Frost’s poems. This was very readable and a good introduction to the poet. Why Paul Muldoon’s dense introduction was deemed necessary seems a mystery to me.

Lilac is now blooming in our garden,

as are vibernum,

and osteospermum.

We had a ‘Mum’s so lucky’ moment this morning, when I tripped over the cord of the electric iron whilst I was pressing shirts, sent the iron flying, spilled its water content, and broke the lid to its reservoir. And wrenched my troublesome knee . Not too badly, I hope.

This afternoon I worked my way through more of the photographic prints Elizabeth has returned. There were just three from 1982/3 that have not already featured in posts. This was during the period in which I was printing in black white, using an enlarger and chemicals.

Matthew was a wonderful big brother to his younger siblings. He enjoyed playing with them, and introducing them to interesting exploratory experiences like this one.

His guiding hand can be seen in the image scanned from a 10″ x 8″ print.

This is my favourite early photograph of Louisa. I made a number of varying sizes. This one happens to be 5″ x 7″.

Wherever you ran a road race in Southern England in the 1980s, you were likely, a day or so afterwards, to receive an envelope containing proofs or contact sheets portraying you in your hours of glory. These would, on the reverse bear this stamp:

You were invited to buy 10″ x 8″ prints. I generally did. So, Mr Manchee, if you read this you will know that my title is tongue in cheek. Actually, I thought it a pretty smart activity, the rewards for the runners exemplified by my being able to lay hands on this photograph taken in 1983, during the Windsor Great Park half marathon. Thank you.

That silly moustache was short-lived.

This evening Jackie drove me to Milford on Sea to collect my repeat prescription from the pharmacy. We then dined at the Britannia Thai restaurant which lived up to the various recommendations we have received for it. The ambience was pleasant, the music gentle, and the food excellent. The efficient service took a while to warm up, but was friendly when it did. My choice was a starter of tiger prawns on a bed of carrot and spring onion juliennes in a spicy chilli sauce; a main course of sea bass in another excellent sauce; followed by banana fritters. Jackie drank Singha beer and I chose Kingfisher.

A Fatal Error

Whilst Jackie drove the well used route to Shelly and Ron’s this morning, I, like Wordsworth’s Lucy, ‘dwelt among the untrodden ways’. Well, untrodden for a very long time. And, apart from lunch, I trod them all day.

Yesterday’s clearances had revealed the presence of another hidden gravel path, which I determined to open up and refurbish.

The camellia mentioned yesterday is now fully visible through the cleared area.
I began by planting the two forgotten items from yesterday – a lilac and a fern. The lilac was to be placed alongside this path, and required the usual clearance of weeds, brambles, and ivy.

Sneaking up behind and to the right beneath the allium in this next photograph can be seen the tentacles of the ubiquitous grasping gallium aperine.

Poppies of various hues are cropping up all over the place.

I have not featured the deutzia before because I could not identify it, but, happily, Jackie has done so.

Although its leaves bear the dreaded black spot, that curse of pirates and rose-growers, the pink climbing rose at the front of the house is beautiful and abundant.
Well, that’s enough of wandering around the garden. I’ve done the planting and had a look at the flowers. Now I must get down to business.

A few yards into the rediscovered path, some quarry tiles had been laid as a point of interest. A few were broken. A little further on, and to the right of these, is a smaller, linking, and also overgrown stretch of lined gravel. This has a similar feature of four tiles. I therefore diverted from my main objective, cleared that route, and took up the tiles and used them to repair the other set on the longer, meandering pathway. In this photograph of the first opened thoroughfare the rake at the far end lies on this arrangement. I have left a few little violets in situ.
Jackie had not, of course, been idle on her return. She continued with curtains, and has now made and hung curtains for the whole house, often fixing the rails as well.

After lunch, I allowed myself a little diversion to pull out two thistles like those of yesterday, and to plant a little round tree/bush in place of one of them. Jackie had unsuccessfully tried to persuade me to take it easy this afternoon. Whilst I was engaged in removing the second of the thistles she came out and asked, in that mock accusative tone that indicates that the speaker thinks you are overdoing it: ‘What are you doing now?’. When she saw what I was engaged in, she gasped, and her expression turned to horror. ‘You’ve pulled up the acanthus!’ she exclaimed.

The head gardener was very forgiving, and most encouraging. She estimated that what was left of it would reach maturity in about seven years. The fatality, in this case, was therefore not the plant, but the tool that I had broken in trying to uproot the very stubborn sections of the acanthus. The plant should revive. Not so the fork handle. I wonder if Ronnie Corbett has any in stock? (Anyone who doesn’t know this reference is highly recommended to look up the Fork Handles sketch on Youtube. It is The Two Ronnies at their very best).

To return to the main path. I will need a heavy duty axe to remove a holly stump from the far end of it. Someone has cut it down in the past, and it had bushed up. I trimmed off the shoots but otherwise cannot shift it, even with the aforementioned fork when it was still intact.

Two photographs will not suffice for the finished article, but here they are.
We are promised rain this evening, to continue into tomorrow. This will be a welcome relief because I will be forced to take a break.
I do ache a bit.

Two of the delights of Indian food are the aromas and the colours. Jackie adheres to these in her presentation, which is why she produced a special variety of red cabbage as a suitable compliment to her succulent roast pork, crackling, and vegetable rice (recipe).
For cabbage with a suitable gentle piquancy for this meat:
Take 1/2 small red cabbage, 1 large red onion, 1/2 a cooking apple (this one was Bramley`) cored, but not peeled.
Thinly slice all ingredients. Stir fry with big nob of butter and splash of olive oil. When part cooked add a splash of white vinegar and a good glug of red wine.
Stir it all up, turn the heat down, whack the lid on and let it cook a little while longer until soft but not soggy.
Try it. It was perfect.
With it I drank Dino shiraz Terre Siciliane 2012 and Jackie didn’t. I would have given her some but she doesn’t like red wine, except in cooking.

Rabbits And A Slow Worm

The wind still raged after a stormy night. I walked down to the Spar shop and back for strawberry jam to accompany scones for the visit of Michael, Heidi, Emily and Alice. They didn’t have any so I settled for blackcurrant.

Choppy breakers on the Solent, a good mile away, could be seen from Downton Lane, where plants

such as periwinkle, even in the shelter of the hedgerow, quivered precariously before the blasts.

Droplets from the otherwise uninspired fountains in Shorefield Country Park sparkled in the occasional bright sunlight as they were blown across the disturbance of the surface of the pool.
According to the poet Alfred Noyes, Kew, which ‘isn’t far from London’, is worth a visit at lilac time. We are quite a way from London,

but we have a few lilacs in the garden, as well as various clematis, most of which are entwined among trees and other shrubs. One such is the montana shown here.
Jackie put on a splendid lunch for us and our visitors. Broccoli and Stilton soup was followed by pizza and garlic bread, before an array of cold meats, cheeses and various salad ingredients.

Michael, Heidi, and the girls accompanied me on a walk to the beach.

A slow worm slithering across the tarmac on the path to the rookery caused some consternation. It looked so much like a snake.
After descending the steps from the cliff top we continued along the shingle to the Hordle Cliff car park where Jackie met us. Heidi joined Jackie on the return in the car and the rest of us walked back.

Like the rooks, battling against the buffeting wind, we struggled to maintain our line. Guess who took the pictures.

Alice stopped on the way back to photograph rabbits scuttling about among the static caravans in the country park.

When she got home she e-mailed me some of her pictures:
After a quick cup of tea and scones I accompanied Michael and his family to New Milton railway station where we deposited Emily on a train for her journey back to Nottingham to rejoin her university. The rest of us then returned for more tea at our leisure before my son, daughter-in-law and younger granddaughter set off back to Sanderstead.
I had forgotten to give Michael his belated birthday present, so telephoned him and he returned to collect it and continued on his way.
This evening the remainder of the super soup sufficed for our supper.

The Isle Of Man

This morning Jackie drove me to New Milton for me to catch the London train. This took her eight minutes, but added half an hour to my train journey. It is far preferable than driving to Southampton for her, and no problem for me.
In a small patch of garden alongside the station buildings lilac, bluebells, and moon daisies glistened with raindrops. As I photographed the daisies a woman on the platform pointed out the display of daisies I had already shot. She said she had not seen them there before, and wondered whether they had been planted or were self-sown.
From Waterloo I took the Jubilee and Metropolitan Lines to Preston Road and walked to Norman’s. Much tilling was being undertaken in the allotments adjacent to the John Billam Sports Ground. One holder had planted a bright array of tulips.
My friend fed us on roast lamb, paprika wedges and vegetables followed by blackberry and apple crumble and custard. We shared a bottle of excellent Crozes-Hermitage.
In narrating the condition of our new home I was prompted to mention Sheila Darzi. Sheila was a member of our Intake Team of social workers in Westminster in the early 1970s. The insanitary conditions of a house to which she made an assessment visit were such that she had to go home to change into a pair of Wellington boots. The Old Post House is not quite that unsavoury, but it comes a close second.
Before I left home this morning I had examined the legs of the reproduction Victorian free-standing bath in our master suite. As far as we can tell, it is quite new, and we would seem to be the only people to have used it. Once each. It is so small that we can only sit cross-legged in it. Not even each at the same time. Yesterday Jackie felt it move. She discovered that none of the legs is fixed to the floor and one of them came off the bath in her hands. My inspection revealed that the other three limbs are at least bolted to the bath.
Perhaps there is some significance in the fact that the lock on the family bathroom door photographed a couple of days ago bears the three-legged symbol of the Isle of Man.
From Preston Road after lunch I took the Metropolitan and Jubilee Underground lines to Westminster, and walked from there to Carol’s. After spending some time with her I returned, via the 507 bus and the train from Waterloo to New Milton where Jackie was waiting to drive me home.
On the train today I began reading Desmond Seward’s history of ‘The Wars of the Roses’. It promises to be very good.
At home, Jackie produced a tangy broccoli and stilton soup with which I drank water and she Hoegaarden. I will attempt to prise a recipe out of her for publication tomorrow.