(Gwen and Yvonne, divert your eyes when it comes to the culinary coda)
Compared with what has been inflicted on Wales and Ireland by the albeit waning hurricane Ophelia, we have got off lightly.
This morning we made our usual preparations for protection from strong winds, notably laying down chairs, pedestals,
and hanging baskets.
Towards midday a fleeting glimpse of a bright red version of yesterday’s solar discs was seen peering from behind the billowing smoke
that was dark slate-coloured clouds. By the time I had gathered up the camera the sun had disappeared. The temperature was so unseasonably warm as to give the impression that there was, indeed, a fire somewhere.
I suspect that the birds thought they must be having a sleepless night;
but the weeping birch still hung unmolested.
By early afternoon the sky had lightened and the sun played upon the garden.
These pansies still brightened
the pots outside the kitchen door.
Fuchsias are among the flowers still blooming beside the greenhouse.
Various pelargoniums,
including this sweetly scented one;
and begonias still defy the coming of the first frost.
Delicate striped petunias thrive in the Cryptomeria Bed;
and white dahlias in Elizabeth’s Bed.
Among the rejuvenated roses are Just Joey,
Aloha,
Lady Emma Hamilton,
Mamma Mia,
and, photographed later, when the wind was getting up and making this spray elusive to the lens, Pink Abundance.
The weeping birch was now waving about,
as was the Cordyline Australis.
I wondered how many of these leaves would be in place in the morning.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s divine liver and bacon, new potatoes, cabbage and mange touts, with which I drank Chateau Bonhomme minervois 2016.
CLICK ON THE CLUSTERED GALLERY IMAGES TO ACCESS THEIR LARGER FORMAT SLIDESHOW.
At 16 degrees, our incredibly mild period continues. It was therefore strange today to begin the winter clearing whilst we continue to enjoy blooms from spring and summer. We did so in rather desultory fashion.
It is difficult to think of winter when you can admire
roses Margaret Merrill, Penny Lane, Mamma Mia, and especially Summer Time;
or fuchsias, geraniums, dahlias, gauras and poppies, one of which harbours a hoverfly; and many more.
With the sun shining, we set off for brunch at The Friars Cliff Cafe. Unfortunately this was in everyone else’s minds. The car park at Steamer Point was crammed full, and shoals of humanity floundered on the beach. There was no doubt the cafe would be full to bursting like me after the Olympics breakfast. We therefore turned back and aimed for Calshot. We hadn’t travelled very far before the sky clouded over. It didn’t look very conducive to photography, so we brunched at Otter Nurseries. Only when I had chosen a liver casserole did Jackie tell me that was what she had planned for this evening. She happily did a rethink.
The walls at Otter contain some rather well-executed paintings for sale. One of these was Boldre Bridge. We wondered why we hadn’t seen the bridge, and realised that would be because we had always driven over it. So we went to look for it. I passed through a five-barred gate and descended a bank to find something approximating the painter’s vantage point.
I was intrigued to notice that the architect had made it possible to feature the Christian fish symbol. The five-spanned bridge, which dates from at least the 18th century is listed under the Planning (Listed Buildings and Conservation Areas) 1990, as amended, for its architectural or historic interest.
A tree had fallen across the river, on which autumn leaves floated over reflections of broken, reeds, and still grey sky.
Just before we drove on, the sun began to light up the foliage on Rodlease Lane.
En route to Sway, I wandered into the forest, taking advantage of the light streaming through the trees, and exchanging greetings with a family of riders.
As I ventured further in, attracted by pinpoints of light in the distance, I was rewarded by this dramatic view across the moorland featuring
a single dwelling in an idyllic setting.
Driving through Hordle on our return, Jackie spotted a cautionary notice for any witches inclined to take to the skies tomorrow night, and a cry for help from an underground prison.
Jackie’s rethink for tonight’s meal involved lemon-flavoured chicken Kiev, French fries, and baked beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Reserve des Tuguets madiran 2012.
After three days of cloud and rain, this one was hot and humid. Too much so for making a start on restoring our plants to their best condition.
The sun did, however, cast friendly light upon such as these heucheras and leaves of barren crocosmias.
Those crocosmias my not have bloomed this year, but many have.
During last week’s storms the container of our aptly named Tumbler tomatoes was blown down, smashing another underneath. It has recovered reasonably well.
The hydrangeas have probably fared best in the wet weather.
Roses such as Mamma Mia
and Special Anniversary have become rather spotty.
The New Guinea impatiens plants have thrived,
as have various cosmoses, like those adorning Florence.
Canna lilies stand proud in the Palm Bed.
Various delicate penstemons, like this one with a lodger, also remain upright,
while the stems of this unusual antique pink foxglove has stooped a little.
The clematis Marie Boisselot still climbs her obelisk.
The begonias and geraniums are doing well, but we have a lot of dead heading to catch up on.
As will be seen the garden is currently a little short of perfection.
This evening we dined on pork and apple sausages with strips of pork belly, fried mushrooms and onions, crisp cabbage and carrots, and mashed potatoes. I drank Meszaros Pal Kekfrankos 2013, while Jackie chose fruit jiuce.
Isan Thai, here photographed by Barrie Haynes, has been in business for just a few weeks. Here is its brochure description:
It deserves to continue.
This is where we spent a most convivial evening and excellent meal yesterday evening, at 129 Parkstone Road, Poole. We joined Barrie and Vicki; their relatives Alan and Rosemary; and friends John and Lynn. We were pleased to meet the group with whom we had relaxed conversation. The staff’s greeting was warm and the service friendly.
My choice was tempura king prawns followed by Tom Saap with spare ribs, and egg fried rice. I drank Singha beer.
Barrie presented me with a copy of his recently published novel which I had read in draft. I will, in due course, write a review of it.
We have been asked how we keep the garden flowers in such good condition. There are several reasons for this. The first is the thorough soil replenishment carried out by The Head Gardener; secondly, plentiful feeding, thirdly her watchful battling with disease and insects, then constant watering, and finally
deadheading. This occupied us both today. As can be seen, our new garden chairs double as clothes driers.
Deadheading is the removal of spent flowers before they come to seed. If they are left alone the plants will stop producing the wherewithal for regeneration. The idea is to prevent this and thus lengthen the flowering season. Jackie, to whom I am indebted for this information, also tells me that those flora that do not need this maintenance are termed ‘self cleaners’.
The petunias in the basket needed just a little work. The dead petals are at the bottom right of the cluster. I often spot such blemishes on the photographic images, then have to deal with them and retake the shot. I was lucky with this one in that I could use it as an example.
Begonias,
and roses such as Mamma Mia need daily attention.
The Japanese anemones have only recently begun to bloom, but their turn will come.
We found a spot for the aluminium dump bench bought a day to two ago. When its peeling black paint has been removed and the seat repainted it will be as good as new.
It replaced the other rather rickety one on the grass. This has been relegated to the Dead End Path. The bricks underneath this earlier dump purchase will function as supporting pillars. Aaron’s fencing can be seen in the background.
This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, pickled onions, and gherkins. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and Bavaria mixed. I didn’t, considering that I consumed enough Singha last night to cover me for this meal as well.
Naturally, I couldn’t wait to get out into the garden and play with my new toy. Confining myself to the Creative Automatic setting with the zoom lens, I made a few close-ups. I had about a 60% success rate.
Starting with lilies, here are some Asiatics dappled by sunlight;
a day lily basking in full sun;
and a fly exploring one in the New Bed.
Now to roses. Mamma Mia is maturing nicely;
Love Knot is prolific;
and this is For Your Eyes Only.
These beautiful penstemons also grace the Rose Garden.
The red Bottle Brush plants, now that the yellow one is over, are coming into their own.
I also did some dead-heading and cut the grass, while Jackie watered the pots, and tidied and catered for our weekend guests. These were my long-term friend, Jessie, and her flat-mate, Guru, who arrived in time for lunch.
After lunch we visited the New Zealand graves at St Nicholas’s church in Brockenhurst. This was of interest to Guru because he has recently been learning about the Indian Army involvement in World War One, and there are three Indians buried there. I photographed one of these on our previous trip. (The pictures that follow were made with the CanonSX700 HS)
Here are the other two.
On that day the light had been too strong for me to photograph the stone of the unknown Belgians who had worked in the hospital. Today was less bright.
One of the nineteenth century stones has had a tree push it over;
the lichen on another blended well with the wild flower meadow.
After this we attended the RNLI fundraising event at Gordon’s home in Downton Lane. This was an afternoon of jazz music and cream tea in the garden. It was very enjoyable.
We arrived too late for a traditional cream tea, but were amply compensated with home-made cakes and delicious strawberries and cream. Jessie amused us by furtling in her bag for sweeteners for her tea.
We dined on Jackie’s classic chicken jalfrezi, pilau rice, and parathas. She drank Hoegaarden, and I drank a Georges du Boeuf Fleurie 2014 that our guests had brought. Jessie’s choice was Irn-Bru, and Guru’s orange juice.
Following on from my post of two days ago I scanned a few more slides from The Dumb Flea holiday.
Here Becky sits in the garden with her two regular charges, David and Samuel. Yes, that is a pet rabbit hopping about.
Another great attraction was the pool.
Becky got Sam accustomed to the idea of water-wings;
then, somewhat pleased with himself, and concentrating hard, he was off on his own,
leaving Becky
and Cherie to enjoy their own swim.
This afternoon Jackie was almost back to normal planting in the garden.
She assembled and embedded a Gardman Arch across the Phantom Path and positioned a clematis Venosa Violacea on the Margery’s Bed side;
and further along placed a large lobelia in the space left for it beside the Star of India.
My contribution was a little weeding, dead-heading, and watering.
Roses, such as Mamma Mia, enjoyed a few minutes of sunshine in a rather overcast day.
For our evening meal we visited the Hare & Hounds public house just outside Sway. We were not disappointed. I enjoyed a plentiful whitebait starter followed by chicken and leek pie, chips, and peas; Jackie’s mushroom pot followed by generous tagliatelle was equally good. Neither of us could even think about a dessert. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I imbibed doom bar.
The setting sun set the building aglow as we left for our short journey home.
Early this morning, we drove Sheila to Brockenhurst for her return home. Apart from Jackie’s planting , and my occasional wander round the garden on this overcast day, we spent it flopping.
We have blooming clematises
Niobe and Arabella on the kitchen wall;
Comtesse de Bouchaud sporting a fennel veil;
Durandii, making its way above geranium palmatums playing host to a bee in the rose garden;
Margaret Hunt;
and this one Jackie recovered after finding that a creature had burrowed underneath it. We had wondered why it wasn’t doing anything.
The recently flowering rhododendron blends well with the Clematis Star of India, the ubiquitous geranium palmatums, and poppies against Jackie in the background.
Here are more poppies leading us to the Rose Garden,
where Laura Ford is reflected on the side of the potting shed;
and where thrive, among others,
Shropshire Lad,
Crown Princess Margareta,
Mamma Mia,
Gertrude Jekyll,
and Mum in a Million.
This red rose was rescued from the jungle by Elizabeth;
this scarlet one stands in the Oval Bed;
and this pink one in the small triangular bed outside the stable door.
The tall scarlet rose is evident in this view of the Oval Path.
Honeysuckle
now climbs above the entrance to the Rose Garden which is visible
from the entrance to the Back Drive.
A bee is flagged up in the text. Three roses each bear a fly. Can you find them?
Mr Chatty Man provided our Hordle Chinese Take Away meal this evening. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Chateauneuf du Pape.
I watered the pots in the front garden this morning.
More pink roses bloom on the trellis each day;
and clematis Piilu
and a tiny solanum are now making their way across the garage door frontage.
New arrivals in the Rose Garden include Mamma Mia,
Rosa Mundi,
and Deep Secret;
and my favourite rhododendron is coming to fruition.
The peach rose is reaching its peak,
and attracting bees.
This afternoon we took Sheila on a forest driveabout to the North of the forest.
A group of ponies on the far side of Burley ignored a Give Way sign as they held up the traffic.
While we were watching another group, including a couple of foals, drinking in the stream at Ibsley,
an alarming neighing was set up by two other adults of these normally silent animals. There was a clattering of hooves on the tarmac to our right, and a thudding on the sward on the other side of the water, as the spooked ponies scattered. The foals clambered up the bank at the calls of their dams. This one nuzzled its relieved parent.
These creatures reconvened on the road.
Meanwhile others tore frantically around the field until a loose collie dog ran off and joined its owners out of sight. The horses then quietly regrouped under the trees.
Some homeowners leave carrots out for ponies. This mother crunched on one, whilst her foal satisfied itself with grass to the right of the cattle grid protecting the house entrance.
As I disembarked from the car, the youngster made its way back to its Mum,
and had a scratch under the protection of her flanks.
We stopped off for a drink at The Royal Oak in North Gorley, then Sheila treated us to a meal at The Plough in Tiptoe. We all chose gammon steak, eggs, chips, and peas. My drink was Ringwoods Best Bitter. Probably because I had also had a pint at The Royal Oak, I wasn’t able to fit in a dessert.
Today I joined The Head Gardener in the continuation of the clearance of the Unidentified Fir Bed. This meant tackling it from the Phantom Path side. Once freed from the rampant, choking, vinca, shrubs such as hebes had to be cut down to compensate for the legginess that had developed. The unnamed tree itself now revealed the base of its trunk for the first time.
In order to promote healthier growth, Jackie cut back a splendid ornamental grass, some of which has been placed in the vase which is an old chimney pot.
Opening out a bed to this extent is quite scary. It is our intention to retain a sense of surprise each time one turns a corner in our garden. This means it would be best not to be able to see right through certain beds to whatever lies beyond. It is an act of faith that, after regrowth and new planting, The Unidentified Fir Bed will regain its height.
The recent rains have given some of the rose blooms such as
this Love Knot,
or Mamma Mia, a motley appearance.
Schoolgirl, however, retains the bejewelled freshness of youth.
This afternoon we left the garden to its own devices and drove to the bank in New Milton and thence to Ray and Daphne’s to deliver prints of the photographs I had been unable to e-mail. At least one reason for this failure was that I had the wrong e-mail address.
Jackie produced an excellent meal of chicken in black bean sauce and egg fried rice of which the chef at Royal China would no doubt be proud. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the cabernet sauvignon.
There is, perhaps, nothing more chastening than when you insist on using chopsticks and your dining companion asks: ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to use a spoon?’, and you know that it would be. On this occasion I eventually succumbed and used my spoon. We then decided to have a Post House Pud, which long-term readers will understand consists of meringue nests topped with whatever is available. This time it was rhubarb crumble flavoured yoghurt. I had used the spoon pictured above, but still had my fork, which I considered adequate for extracting the yoghurt from its pot. ‘Now you haven’t got a spoon’, said Jackie, getting up and placing one beside me. Somewhat absent-mindedly I continued to start my dessert with the fork. ‘That’s a fork’, she said.
It is now 9.30 p.m. I f I finish this post this evening it will be a miracle, because, so far, much of it has been spent having useless and frustrating conversations with someone in India about lack of BT Broadband connection.
This morning Jackie drove us to Helen’s home in Poulner where we decanted into Helen’s car, in which she drove us to Lavender Farm at Landford, just inside Wiltshire. Taking in lunch we spent the best part of the day enjoying another splendid late summer’s day, before reversing the process.
The farm is an outlet for many wonderful plants, seen at their best on such a beautiful day.
There was, of course, a plentiful supply of lavender, but also very much more.
From the moment we entered, it was clear that the displays for sale were all as attractive as this one for cacti.
The three of us wandered around the gardens. I photographed the two ladies.
Sometimes just the beds;
or other people, like these two admiring the vegetables;
and these taking tea.
A couple I noticed sitting among the flowers were Brian and Sandra. Having taken the first picture from some distance away, as is my wont when I have not asked for permission, I walked along the narrow path to their bench, and sought it in retrospect. A very pleasant conversation ensued and they happily posed for a second picture. Brian turned out to have a collection of some 3,000 colour slides, mostly of historic Southampton, and was wondering how to digitise them. I described my scanner and advised them how to go about the task.
The garden was clearly troubled by wasps in July.
There is no charge for enjoying this haven, but charitable donations are encouraged.
Of course we bought some plants. Apart from smaller ones like heucheras and salvias, three roses on Jackie’s collection list just had to be acquired.
The first was Gertrude Jekyll, named after the famous gardener.
This is from the website in her honour: Gertrude Jekyll (1843-1932), created some 400 gardens in the UK, Europe and America; her influence on garden design has been pervasive to this day. She spent most of her life in Surrey, England, latterly at Munstead Wood, Godalming. She ran a garden centre there and bred many new plants. Some of her gardens have been faithfully restored, wholly or partly, and can be visited. Godalming Museum has many of her notebooks and copies of all her garden drawings, (compiled and sorted by members of the Surrey Gardens Trust); the original drawings are in the University of California, Berkeley.
Her own books about gardening are widely read in modern editions; much has been written about her by others. She contributed over 1,000 articles to Country Life, The Garden and other magazines. A complete list of every book and article written by her is in the Bookshop section of this site. A talented painter, photographer, designer and craftswoman; she was much influenced by Arts & Crafts principles.
(c) Elizabeth Banks; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
William Nicholson painted this portrait of her in October 1920.
Next came Lady Emma Hamilton.
Wikipedia tells us that:
Emma, Lady Hamilton (26 April 1765; baptised 12 May 1765 – 15 January 1815) is best remembered as the mistressof Lord Nelson and as the muse of George Romney. She was born Amy Lyon in Ness near Neston, Cheshire, England, the daughter of Henry Lyon, a blacksmith who died when she was two months old. She was raised by her mother, the former Mary Kidd, at Hawarden, and received no formal education. She later changed her name to Emma Hart.
Finally, has the rose Mamma Mia anything to do with Abba?
Readers may be amused to learn the reason that my first attempts at photographing these last two roses produced very bleary images. This is because a very small insect had become ensnared in Helen’s chutney. Not being able to identify it with the naked eye, I thought that if I photographed it with the macro facility it would be possible to do so. The creature turned out to be a small wasp. But I had poked the lens into the chutney, with the obvious results. My handkerchief was not adequate for the task of cleaning the glass, so I had to use a lens cloth when we got home, and photograph the roses here.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s chicken jalfrezi and savoury rice, with chicken samosas. I finished the cabernet sauvignon.
