moon – derrickjknight

The Cow Scraped Under The Moon

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My sister, Elizabeth, has a library to rival my own. On her recent visit, as she is on the process of thinning her collection, she brought me two Folio Society novels that she thought I would like. She knew that I have other editions of each of these works, but not of these particular illustrated editions.

The first is

which I posted today.

When, shortly before dusk, Jackie and I set out for Hatchet Pond before shopping for vegetables at Brockenhurst’s Tesco Metro,

the moon sheepishly showed its face above Christchurch Road.

The pale sky above the pond, where mallards and coots paddled over breezy ripples,

bore scarcely any trace of the hoped for sunset.

a creamy cow scraped against a blended birch,

beneath the now more prominent satellite

sometimes peeping through naked branches.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome beef casserole; boiled new potatoes; and firm Brussels sprouts with which I finished the Malbec.

Attempting To Take A Drink

This afternoon I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/10/24/a-knights-tale-56-how-i-became-a-team-leader/

Early this morning I had raced around the garden at dawn in my dressing gown and slippers in order to keep pace with the fast moving clouds enhanced by a splendid sunrise which turned out to have been the brightest part of an otherwise largely overcast day.

Smoky indigo and old gold hues didn’t quite manage to obscure the glimpses of bright blue or the peeping moon not yet ready for bed. Copper beech, weeping birch and New Zealand flax were all nicely silhouetted and the house at the corner of Hordle Lane and Christchurch Road bore burnished bricks.

After I posted the aforementioned Knight’s Tale episode we took a trip into the forest.

The only pannage pigs that seem to be loose at the moment are those at Pilley, where the little ones are becoming bigger.

Donkeys queued for a go at this scratching post.

Ponies grazing at East Boldre were passed by a friendly cyclist taking his dog for a walk.

Nearer East End a cow with three calves, one looking older than the others, occupied the moorland. I am still battling with the uploading of photographs. The last, most difficult, attempt was of this younger twin attempting to take a drink.

This evening Elizabeth came to dinner and brought with her various papers, including Mum’s will, which I need for my executorship; and this mirror that Vivien and I brought back for her from our Cornish honeymoon in March 1963.

Our meal consisted of succulent roast lamb; sage and onion stuffing; mint sauce; crisp roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding; piquant cauliflower cheese; tender green beans; and crunchy carrots, with tasty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and my sister and I drank more of the Fleurie.

They Keep On Coming

The moon was out of bed this morning when Jackie took her camera into the garden, yet cloud cover soon rolled in. She crouched low to offer the Cobaea Scandens cup to the lingering orb. Fennel seeds, sweet pea pods, and mahonia completed the collection of silhouettes. The Assistant Photographer finished with pastel shades of verbena bonariensis against New Zealand flax.

This afternoon I cut the grass for which the expression ‘mowed the lawn’ would be a little pretentious. It seemed somewhat ambitious to hand-clip the edges so I will live to fight them another day.

The hanging basket in the top centre of the first picture contains a bright lime-green heuchera.

For a little light relief I transported Jackie’s clippings from her weeding and taking cuttings to the compost bin and bagged up some of the woody material.

Beside her the Dragon Bed’s Polish Spirit clematis and hanging baskets petunias display vibrant colour.

Bees, like this one in geranium Roxanne, went about their business undisturbed.

This variety of rudbeckia has prove quite prolific this year, whereas several others have failed.

Recents storms virtually stripped this pink climbing rose of its leaves, yet buds keep on coming,

as do those of Flower Power, Lady Emma Hamilton,

Absolutely Fabulous,

and Crown Princess Margareta, who encourages the coexistence of different generations.

The Weeping Birch Bed, like most of the others, still contains a variety of colourful blooms.

There aren’t many without a dahlia or two.

Preferring the ebb and flow and artistry of Test matches, I am not fan of T20 cricket, but, as I watched England’s innings against Australia on TV this afternoon I began to wonder whether my apathy might be a teeny bit prejudiced.

This evening we dined on Mr Chan’s excellent Hordle Chinese Take Away fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

Her Pride And Joy

Late yesterday evening Jackie raced round the garden with her camera, gleefully photographing

her pride and joy. Petunias, pelargoniums, phlox, fuchsias, clematises, alliums, agapanthuses, dahlias, verbenas, campanulas, erigeron, lilies, Japanese anemones, diascias, begonias, eucalyptus, roses, and no doubt many I’ve missed. As usual, clicking on any image will produce the gallery, each member of which is separately labelled and can be viewed full size by clicking on the box beneath it, and further bigified with subsequent clicks.

As if that weren’t enough, the Assistant Photographer dashed out later to capture

the full moon, and again this morning to add

crocosmias Emily McKenzie and Solfatare,

and finally Lycesteria.

I had my work cut out today to select from 56 images, load them into the iMac, edit and crop them, then transfer them to WordPress retyping each title. I left my own camera alone, and for the first time ever rejected the offer of a forest drive, otherwise I would have been at the computer until midnight.

This evening we dined on Forest Tandoori takeaway fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

In The Night Garden

Following the call of the moon last night Jackie took her camera into the garden to photograph

its light;

she moved on to sculptures Florence

and her Owl

She worked on the garden during the day, beginning with lining up tubs of

tulips on the patio, showing those in the process of uncurling alongside earlier arrivals.

Those tulips, and this more standard red one, are cultivated and have limited life spans.

Species, on the other hand, will naturalise. These red ones are new.

Lilac Wonders bloom and proliferate year after year, brightening

the Palm Bed,

diagonally opposite which stand these fritillaries

at the corner of the Cryptomeria Bed. This view takes us through to

the Weeping Birch Bed.

Alongside that is the Oval Bed with its splendid marigolds and cowslips.

Nearer the house the red Japanese maple is regenerating in the Kitchen Bed. Apparently dead, this was heavily pruned three years ago by me, and the following year by Aaron.

The camellia behind this bears new and old blooms

which carpet the ground beneath it.

This evening Jackie served up her own savoury egg fried rice with meaty spare ribs coated with spicy barbecue sauce; crisp prawn toasts and spring rolls, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Mezquiriz Reserva Navarra 2013.

John’s Bedroom

The moon still shone brightly as Jackie went out to photograph

the pastel pink dawn

as it tinted the roof tiles over the gabled bedroom that harboured John Corden on his recent visit.

Although we had suffered a little more damage such as fallen pots, supports, and owls on the decking,

the camellias continue to proliferate.

These views along and beyond the Head Gardener’s Walk show snowdrops, bergenias, camellias, and primulas,

another row of which, happily hindered by Nugget,

Jackie planted this morning. The labels lying on the soil are marking lily and gladiolus bulbs also inserted therein.

“Where’s Nugget?” (66).

The Assistant Photographer produced all these photographs, including this lovely composition of

cyclamens, vinca, and cherub sculpture.

This evening for dinner, Jackie produced baked gammon; piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; and sautéed leeks mixed with chopped cabbage. I finished the Squinzano and Jackie abstained.

The Siege Of Krishnapur

In the afternoon of this day of steady rainfall Paul and Margery visited to deliver the painting by John Jones that Paul has now framed. We had an enjoyable conversation over tea and mince pies, and are very pleased with both the picture and the framing.

During the rest of the day I finished reading J.G.Farrell’s historical novel ‘The Siege Of Krishnapur’. Originally published by George Weidenfeld and Nicholson 1n 1973, mine is the Folio Society edition of 2008 with an excellent and insightful introduction by Hilary Mantel and evocative illustrations by Francis Mosley.

Without revealing anything of the story I can say that the clearly impeccably and aimlessly researched work takes us into the period of the Raj, its customs, its class divisions, and its beliefs. The pace of the narrative reflects the ebb and flow of action and reflection of such an event. There is dramatic action and there dull, energy-sapping periods. All the senses are so well engaged. Sickness and death are rife. We see how people are revealed in their true colours – some rising to the occasion, others failing or turning it to their own advantage. Barriers between the sexes are broken down.

The boards are embossed with this design by the artist which also runs across the spine.

Mr Mosley, especially with his chosen palette, has captured the essence of the time and place.

As, this evening, we left home to meet Elizabeth at The Wheel Inn, Jackie photographed arboreal fingers reaching for the full moon draped in dramatic clouds.

The staff at the community pub, having reserved a friendly table,

had placed us beside the log fire. Jackie also produced these two photographs.

Elizabeth and I both enjoyed crispy duck with ginger salad starters.

My main course consisted of oven baked hake wrapped in parma ham, lobster sauce, sautéed potatoes and asparagus. The ladies were both delighted with their roast turkey with all the trimmings. Jackie finished with Christmas pudding, and I chose Eton mess. Both were very good. Jackie and Elizabeth both drank Warsteiner and I drank Ringwood’s Best.

A Quotation From My Grandad

I have previously mentioned an unfortunate complication arising from my knee replacement operation in May. Today, after some delay and a cancellation, Jackie was able do drive me to Lymington Hospital for a visit to consultant, Mr J. Douglas. After various tests he offered the opinion that my prostate is only slightly enlarged and that there may have been some internal damage caused by efforts to insert a catheter. He was not worried about this, but, given that I cannot have my second knee replacement unless the condition, which might need a catheter designed for this not unusual problem, is confirmed, he has placed me on an urgent referral for further investigation with a camera.
Before this visit we lunched at Redcliffe Garden Centre at Bashley. Written on the roof supports of the establishment’s restaurant are memorable quotations about gardening. Following on from one from Longfellow is this one by

‘My Grandad’. Enlargement should make this legible, but for those needing it, here is the text: ‘A face without freckles is like a garden without flowers’.

I chose the steak pie meal. The excellent gravy relieved the impression that the meal was perhaps a bit overheated – it was, however, the last one, and despite appearances tasted very good. Jackie enjoyed her customary jacket potato with tuna mayonnaise and plentiful fresh salad.

We had taken a diversion in the forest. At Brockenhurst, just as I drew a bead on it a heron took off from the bank of a stream outside Brockenhurst.

After the consultation we sped off to the GP Surgery at Milford on Sea to deposit a requisition for medication to relax the casing of the prostate. Naturally this led us to the coast just before sunset.

The Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse sat well in their pink and indigo pastel surroundings.

This colour scheme set off the more strident streaks of the setting sun,

opposite which sweeping clouds revealed blue skies.

As usual the heaving sea, the rock-splashing spray, and the crunching shingle reflected the overhead hues.

Soon after sunset the clearer skies revealed a finely drafted crescent moon above Downton.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s choice chilli con carne served with flavoursome savoury rice. Elizabeth drank Hop House Lager and I drank Outlook Bay Central Otago Pinot Noir 2017.

Cleft Cliff

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This afternoon we all watched Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, and Alan Arkin, supported by Peter Serafinowicz and Ann-Margret, starring in ‘Going in Style’. This is a wonderful heist romp about three ageing friends getting their own back on a foreclosing bank. I won’t spoil the story by revealing anything more.

Afterwards the oldies in our group drove down to Barton on Sea for coffees at the Beachcomber café.

In the cold air I risked frostbite by photographing the dusk before joining the others. Some walkers hurried along the clifftop.

Cleft in cliff

I wondered whether they had noticed the recently rent cleft in the cliff edge. I also wondered whether this chunk of rocky soil would still be in situ next time we pass this way.

Others, walking their dogs, strode along the shore line.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent beef, mushroom, and onion pie; creamy mashed potatoes; crisp cabbage, and crunchy carrots. I drank very flavoursome and full bodied 16 Little Black Pigs shiraz cabernet 2016, one of a mixed case Ian gave me for Christmas.

Sussing Possible Rentals

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For much of the day, Jackie drove me and Flo around the forest, focussing on the location of a few flats she has found that might be suitable for her to rent. First on the itinerary was one over the antiques centre where Elizabeth has a cabinet.

From there we drove on to Ashurst to survey the forested area surrounding the secluded building. The low sun sent sharp shadows across the sparkling frosted terrain; and brightened reflections in the developing pools. Lichen covered broken branches lay all around.

A pony ripped its way through the bracken in which it foraged.

Once in the north of the forest, we brunched at Hockey’s Farm Shop at South Gorley. There, Flo photographed the alpacas, the donkeys, and the chickens. She was making a video with some still photographs of the New Forest.

A diminutive pony fed from a box on the side of a pen.

Sow with piglets

A contented sow shielded her three day old piglets from prying eyes. A notice warned that she might become grumpy if they were poked.

Donkeys

Donkeys always seem more in evidence to the north of the A31.

Godshill was our next port of call. We are unable to find the selected property, but we did tramp along muddy paths. The car’s access to the most likely location was barred by three farm horses, one of which was particularly large. As we made our way past them, the animals picked up speed and appeared to be racing us down the soggy slope on which mud mingled with equine droppings.

Farm horses waiting for tea

We thought it best to stand aside from these heavy-hoofed beasts. They swung round the bend at the bottom of the hill, coming to a halt at the farm gate. We were informed by the woman apparently in charge of their reception committee that they were assembling for their tea.

We failed to meet Becky and Ian here. After waiting in Godshill Cricket car park watching the moon rise and the sun set, we returned home to find the others there. Our problem was the lack of mobile phone signals depriving us of the ability to communicate on the move, on which we have all become so dependent.

This evening we all grazed on cold meats, cheeses, and salads Jackie laid out on the kitchen table.