maple – derrickjknight

Lunchtime

Part of Mum’s deal at Woodpeckers Care home is that she can entertain guests to lunch once a week.

Elizabeth, Jackie, and I were her visitors today. My meal was Cajun chicken with Lyonnaise potatoes, carrots, and curly kale; the others opted for gammon. Mum chose stewed apricots with ice cream for dessert; the rest of us enjoyed plum crumble. We were served in our own quiet room. Service was friendly and efficient. The food was very good.

Afterwards, Jackie and I took a trip around the forest.

It is not unusual to see requests for information about hit and run accidents involving ponies. This, featuring a Shetland on the road to Beaulieu, was one of two we passed today.

Although much of it has been cut back by now, blackthorn has proliferated in the hedgerows for several weeks now.

As we rounded a bend on approaching East End we were struck by this fortuitous juxtaposition of maple and photinia.

Nearby one of a group of basking cattle suckled her calf which was enjoying its own lunchtime.

Donkeys were hard at work trimming the village’s hedgerows.

More cattle were serving themselves to lunch from the verges of Tanners Lane.

Beside Sowley Lane a flamboyant cock pheasant flashed across the road and fled beneath barbed wire fencing.

Another merged into hay stalks among scavenging crows beside a field of rape, many of which

are beginning to slash the landscape with sunlight.

More of the more colourful birds foraged in

this historic field with its

views across The Solent to the Isle of Wight.

This evening we dined on spicy Diablo pizza with plentiful fresh salad. Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I enjoyed Maipo Valley Carménere 2016 from the Majestic Definition range.

A Grinning Teenager

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The skies wept all morning and were quite broken up by the time Jackie took me for a drive after lunch.

She parked by the roadside near Norley Wood for me to photograph the surroundings. To our right lay open forest, and to our left a couple of splendidly situated homes. The last picture in the group shows the necessary cattle grid that prevents roving ponies from investigating their grounds.

Throughout the local towns and villages lampposts sport large memorial poppies in tribute to those serving men and women who died in the First World War. On the outskirts of villages such as Burley.

Perambulating ponies with flanks like wet flannels, having interest neither in red poppies nor brighter maples, kept their noses to the grindstone.

A pair of very large Gloucester Old Spot pigs penned in their field must have envied the spritely, grinning, ginger Tamworth teenager who outstripped me further along the road.

The morning’s rain had brought tears to the knitted poppies fixed to the Vaggs Lane gates to St Andrew’s Church. Incidentally, Aaron told us this morning that his mother had knitted many of those at St Mark’s, Pennington, featured three days ago.

This evening we dined on smoked haddock, piquant cauliflower cheese, creamy mashed potato, crisp carrots, and tender runner beans, with which Jackie and I drank Wairau Cove Sauvignon Blanc 2017 and Elizabeth drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Just After Sunset

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The clear light of the last few days gave way today to a weaker sun seeking refuge behind shifting clouds. Jackie drove us to Ringwood where I bought some inks from Wessex Photo and she enjoyed a successful clothes shop at M & Co. We continued on into the North of the forest.

A splendid maple blended well with the tiles of a house in Ibsley.

From the bottom of Abbots Well Road I wondered how the cattle kept their footing on the slopes of their hillside.

To the west over the moors on Roger Penny Way a feeble sun thought about sinking low; indigo clouds scudded across blue skies to the east.

We thought that would be the last of tonight’s sunset, until Jackie had the bright idea of aiming for Sway Tower. We just missed the hoped for phenomenon, but the pastel skies above the red-gold glimmer still had much to offer.

Elizabeth arrived home from her trip to Edinburgh and visiting Mum, just after us.
We dined on Jackie’s splendid steak and mushroom pie; creamy mashed potato; tasty gravy; and crisp carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli. Elizabeth and I drank Casillero del Diablo Malbec 2017. The Culinary Queen didn’t.

‘Communication Is The Key’

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‘Every cloud’, we are told, ‘has a silver lining’. Sometimes this is difficult to see. This good outcome from my Broadband problems, however, became clear this morning when the very personable Mike Smith came to install a new phone line.

Firstly, the BT Openreach engineer climbed a ladder at the front of the house to work on the fixture on the eaves.

Health and Safety regulations meant that he was not permitted to climb the pole out in the street without someone in attendance to ensure that he did not come to grief. This was to be a colleague who needed to come from Fawley via Beaulieu where the road was closed.

This may have meant a certain amount of boring hanging about waiting for Andy, the other man to arrive. Not so. A treat was in store.

Mike had noticed that ‘someone was a photographer’. So was he. He has a Flickr account which he opened on my computer so that he could show me some of his superb work. He specialises in street photography, of which the site flickr.com/photos/zarfimages contains splendid examples. My shots above don’t do justice to these pictures. I recommend his site.

Naturally we had much to talk about. But eventually his support arrived and he had to get back to what I called “some real work”. Having climbed the ladder propped against our holly tree, helmetted, and hoisted, Mike did what he needed to do. Unfortunately there is a problem underground that requires the attention of a specialist team. Following our friend’s request this should be attended to in a couple of days.

Today’s title was Mike’s suggestion.

When visiting Bransgore yesterday, Jackie had noticed a splendid maple at the corner of St George’s Drive that she thought I would like to photograph. She drove me there this afternoon.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious sausage casserole followed by her spicy pumpkin pie. The casserole was served with creamy mashed potatoes, crunchy carrots, cauliflower and Brussels sprouts; the pie with whipped cream. I drank Reserve des Tuguets madiran 2010.

Sisyphus Reincarnate

Today dawned with fog, and remained overcast. Yesterday was apparently the warmest November day here since records began, and it wasn’t much cooler today.

Work continued in the front garden. We gravelled the widened side path with the last of the shingle left over from the back drive. My contribution was to transport barrow loads of the material for Jackie to rake smooth. I then brought down the sixteen bricks needed for a third pillar, and handed them to the artist who built it. Just in case anyone thinks these are marvellously cemented creations, they are dry brick pillars. Still marvellous, of course.

Jackie reshaped the green maple near the patio.

I added the branches to the growing heap now lining the back drive. This time, making a change from combustion, we intend to hire what Aaron calls a chipper to mulch them.

This afternoon we made a start on clearing the carpet of beech leaves, and weeds, in the rose garden, in preparation for composting the soil.

Observing how many leaves are still to fall, Jackie gave me the epithet Sisyphus Reincarnate.

Behind the black bag in the bottom left of the picture spreads a pink carpet rose.

Penstemons, such as this delicate pastel pink, planted for variety among the roses, are thriving.

The first Sisyphus was John, who gardened at Minstead.

This evening we dined on roast belly of pork topped with mustard and almonds; crisp cauliflower and cabbage; and boiled potatoes. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Funnel Blower, a ‘dark vanilla porter’. This latter tasted of chocolate. Not a good idea.

The Crab Pot

Many attractive trees and shrubs, like this beautiful green-barked maple, are simply in the wrong place and require sadly severe treatment. This one was denying access to the potting shed and encroaching upon the path, forcing other plants to do the same. We trust it will recover from this morning’s extensive amputations.

Elizabeth drove Mum over from West End for lunch and to view our new home, with which she was very taken. Before lunch, we had a tour of the garden. Our mother, in her ninety second year was determined and delighted to see everything. Concentrating hard on her two sticks, she walked with me every step of the sometimes uneven paths, whilst Jackie and Elizabeth wandered rather more quickly at will.

The chimney pot planting is now well established, with such as scented petunias looking splendid. A Lysimachia, Jackie has also introduced, is in full bloom.

Heucheras are grown for the beauty and variety of their leaves. Described by our resident horticulturist as ‘the gardener’s dream’, they are hardy plants which can tolerate shade and grow in any type of soil. Needless to say we now have a great many adding colour to most beds. Their clusters of small flowers, blending with their foliage, cling to long slender stems.

The snake bark maple is now beginning to wear its autumn colours which stand out well against the weeping birch leaves. We hope that this early display is not a sign of something sinister, and simply perhaps that it is a native of North America.

Another delicately hued yellow lily is attractive not only to us but also to hoverflies;

a deep magenta penstemon is rewarding us for freeing it from choking brambles;

and honeysuckle has now taken over decorative duties from the roses around the entrance to the front garden.

It is three years since our mother, who lives in a bungalow, has tackled any stairs at all, let alone our rather steep ones. She did, however, with me climbing ahead, and Elizabeth behind, manage to ascend to our first floor and suitably admire the rest of the abode. This was after we had enjoyed another of Jackie’s lavish salad lunches.

Back in the late 1980s, when she was much fitter, Mum regularly drove up to Newark for an annual two week holiday. One year she admired some artefacts in an architectural salvage establishment in the town, saying she would quite like to buy one. I had no recollection of this until she reminded me today, but I had bought it for her and taken it down to Horndean where she was living at the time.

She has developed a practice of, when appropriate, returning presents long since forgotten by the giver. Today, she and Elizabeth both brought me gifts for my birthday tomorrow. Mum’s came with a card which apologised for returning ‘this’ in a tatty state, but perhaps I might like to make a project of it. It was that very same iron and rope crab pot I had given her about 25 years ago. Apparently it has lost its rope handle. But who cares?

After our visitors had departed it was a while before we felt like eating, when fish fingers provided a more than adequate snack.

Bombay Night

We now have poppies cropping up all over the garden.

There are at least two weigelas, one of which adorns a dead stump.

Honesty abounds, and is a favourite with cabbage white butterflies.

The day was spent in relaxed company with Becky, Ian, and Flo. They returned home early in the evening, and Jackie and I drove to Barton on Sea and along the coast, after which we went on to Bombay Night in New Milton.

Bombay Night has fast become our local Indian restaurant of choice. My favourite here, which I ate this evening with special fried rice, is the Nowabi jalfrezi. I have not met this elsewhere. It offers a mix of tender lamb, chicken, and king prawn with a blend of flavours, including those provided by fresh red and green chillies. Jackie chose chicken sag with mushroom rice. She was impressed by the fact that, even on Easter Monday, the spinach was fresh. Indian food is always so colourful and aromatic. That of this establishment is no exception. The popadoms, incidentally, are flavoursome and crisp, and presented with interesting chutneys. We drank Kingfisher.

Kelsey Park

In today’s beautiful late autumn sunshine, the birch tree in the garden glowed silver and gold. Had it not been such a day I might have stayed in, for, although I am much better, I have considerable sinus pain. Jackie drove me to Eyeworth Pond at Fritham, the idea being to sit and watch the ducks. It may, however, be no surprise to readers to learn that I went for a walk while Jackie waited with her puzzles.

The difficulty we had getting through the traffic on the hill past the Royal Oak suggested the pub was doing a good trade in Sunday lunch, and judging by the multitude of accents heard on the footpath alongside and around the pond, tourists were still flocking in abundance to the forest. Groups of walkers, with or without dogs or children; and dogs or children with or without escorts were all enjoying the sparkling lakeside; the shafts of sunlight through the gold-green trees; negotiating the numerous rain-filled potholes; the wet glint of the waterfowl feathers, or branches fetched from the otherwise still pond by dogs shaking spray everywhere.

Some visitors had clearly lunched at The Royal Oak, others, like the Staffie’s owners were equipped with a table, garden chairs, flasks, and a picnic. The ducks were all ensconced on the far side of the lake, no doubt to avoid having bread chucked at them. I wandered round the side and across a bridge, and then realised why that area was only suitable for natural swimmers. There was no footpath and it was all rather soggy. I returned to the car park.

On my way round I met the picnicking couple and their four and a half year old Staffordshire terrier amusing himself with a long and heavy branch which his owners had become tired of playing with. They said ‘Staffie’s [were] not the dogs everyone thinks they are. He hasn’t a bad bone in his body’. Thinking that maybe the piece of tree he was in the process of lifting in his jaws was a substitute for another kind of bone, I was rather pleased it occupied him. Seriously, however, when he did drop it for a moment to investigate me, he was very friendly and kept his slobber to himself. On 28th August last year, ten month old Barney, ‘the stupidest dog in the world’, had tried to lift half a tree.

Now, I can never cross a sun-dappled bridge and look into a clear lake at the reflections of cloudless blue skies and autumn leaves without being transported to the Kelsey Park of October 1967 which I visited with Jackie and Michael on a day such as today. That was the first time I made a series of photographs of similar subjects to the two I took today. It was a day never to be forgotten.

We have noticed that there are not many red autumn leaves in and around The New Forest. An exception is the ornamental maple surrounded by a seat at Seamans Corner, which is in the process of shedding its foliage as it has done every year since being planted in 1953 in honour of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation.

I pressed ‘publish’ rather too early, but I know what we are having for dinner, so I’ve quickly edited this post. We will have lamb jalfrezi, savoury rice, and mini paratas. We’ve already eaten freshly cooked popadoms, and I have started on the Pays d’Oc merlot 2012, which is probably why I jumped the gun.