New Zealand hebe – derrickjknight

The Phantom

Today was largely overcast yet remained dry.

This morning I carried out a dead-heading session and filled another old compost bag of cuttings and weeds for the next dump trip. I was watched by a robin on the Rose Garden fence, but didn’t have my camera with me.

Later I returned with the camera and photographed

a bee and a hoverfly (lower down to the right) on For Your Eyes Only;

and other insects on or approaching other plants titled in the gallery;

we have more Japanese anemones, and fuchsias;

various hydrangeas, including the phantom which is having its best year yet;

numerous dahlias;

a white New Zealand hebe, a few lingering clematises, some recently flowering blue agapanthuses, the peach climbing rose, and a hollyhock refusing to stay tied to protect it from the wind.

Jackie’s recent plantings include these baskets suspended from the eucalyptus, and the begonia and lobelia perched on a brick stand.

This afternoon I helped Flo to manage my camera and the iMac editing facility for a photographic project she is embarking upon. She is a quick learner. The pictures are hers, so I won’t show any of them here.

This evening we all dined on tender roast lamb; crisp roast potatoes and softer sweet ones; crunchy carrots; and firm Brussels sprouts and broccoli, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank François du Bessis GSM 2021.

Say “Bye”

I woke later than usual this morning. As I passed our upstairs windows soon after 7 a.m. I spied Jackie standing with a camera at the far end of the garden.

She was taking advantage of the early morning light, which was just as well for the first three images in particular.

Titles, as usual, can be gleaned after accessing each of the galleries with a click. Otherwise I will let her results speak for themselves.

This afternoon she drove me to

Rhinefield Ornamental Drive, where I walked for thirty minutes along this reasonably even path.

So crowded were the car parks that we only just managed to find a space. Surrounding the car park, golden St John’s Wort glowed in the sunshine that pierced gaps between the

majestic giant redwoods

surrounded by bracken.

Now the tourist season has begun, and children have been let out of school, I do not walk alone.

Two little boys ran on ahead of their parents, pausing while a woman approached engrossed in her mobile phone. Having put it aside, she greeted me warmly.

Two gentleman I took to be the fathers of the boys called them to stop, caught up with them and turned to communicate with the likely mothers with whom I had been conversing.

The woman carrying a younger child, I think did not speak English. Nevertheless when, realising that they were pacing me and my knees, I urged them not to wait for me she held up her little boy to wave and say “bye”. Her companion had good enough English to tell me about her aunt’s hip replacement.

On my return to the car I paused to photograph a trio playing catch. Anyone who has been accustomed to catching a hard cricket ball will appreciate that it is much easier to pouch than is this yellow tennis ball.

When we set off for home string of cyclists wheeled along Rhinefield Road.

Just outside Brockenhurst a leisurely pony and foal were instructing a patient motorcyclist in the rules of the New Forest roads.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious beef, mushrooms and peppers in red wine; Yorkshire pudding; crisp roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; and tender runner beans with which I finished the Grenacha Syrah. Mrs Knight had downed her Hoegaarden while seated on the patio in conversation with Nugget.

Shooting One-Handed

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN THE CLUSTER TO ACCESS THE GALLERY, ANY MEMBERS OF WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL-SIZE BY SCROLLING DOWN THE PAGE AND CHECKING THE BOX AT BOTTOM RIGHT. THE LONE PICTURE CAN BE ENLARGED WITH A CLICK.

Soon after Mat, Tess, and Poppy returned home I watched the recorded thrilling final quarter of the Six Nations rugby match between England and France; and the second half live of the Wales v. Italy game.

It has been a dull day, but one that was dry enough to wander round the garden and view our ever increasing daffodil, camellia, and hellebore blooms. I am indebted to an exchange with Cheryl to give me the confidence to hold up the bowed head of the single hellebore. The photo cyan speck on one of my fingers came from my Canon printer ink as I changed the cartridge when printing for Aaron a set of the photographs I took of him pruning roses last week.

The moss-covered branch seen here is what is left of a New Zealand hebe that had snaked along the bed during the time the West Bed was largely overgrown. To its left a new stem, having reached the light, stands proudly covered in foliage which will soon produce flowers.

This Mother’s Day evening Jackie, Becky’s mother, and Becky, Flo’s mother were joined by Flo, Dillon, Ian, and me for dinner at Lal Quilla. We’d mostly finished our meals before I remembered my camera, and waiter, Raoul took this photograph. My main course was king prawn Ceylon. We shared onion bahjis, various rices, two ponir dishes, parathas, and naans. Kingfisher, red wine, lemonade, and water were drunk.

The Lady Of Shalott

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENHANCE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

This morning I made this crop of a photograph taken at Burley in May, and Jackie turned it into a birthday card for Bill, whose party we were to attend later.

Among the various tasks carried out by Aaron was heavily pruning a spent philadelphus.

Bending the branches took a bit of effort.

This fuchsia Delta’s Sarah is spreading along the west side of the patio.

A stand of petunias,

and these rather splendid potted lilies prepare for the arrival of the base for the greenhouse to be delivered during the week.

Dahlias continue to enliven the borders,

and the first Japanese anemones are springing up.

The agapanthuses are coming along nicely,

while the New Zealand hebe now attracts the bees, eager to fill their pollen sacs.

Priscilla, the frilly gladiolus is coming through in the New Bed;

roses like Peach Abundance are having another flush;

and paler pink echinaceas have risen to join the darker red ones.

This afternoon we travelled by car to Poulner where we enjoyed Bill’s birthday party. We sat and conversed in the pleasant company of Helen and Bill’s children David, Rachel, and John; Rachel’s fiancé Gareth and John’s wife Stephanie and their children, Billy and Max; Gareth’s mother, Mo, and stepfather Fred; Shelly and Ron; and. of course the birthday boy and Jackie’s sister, Helen.

Gareth got the barbecue going, taking us through the smoky stage.

John took over to give him a chance to clear the vapours from his eyes.

Between them they produced a variety of roasted meats to go with the salads prepared by the ladies.

Here is a group of the male guests reflected in a window.

Great aunts eagerly took it in turns to cuddle two and a half month old Max.

Jackie handed him to her younger sister

who eventually handed him back to his mother whose hands he explored.

Bill was his usual engaging self,

and, in a tub filled with plastic balls, his young namesake did a passable impression of Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott as painted by many Victorian artists.

I mostly drank a fine Argentine malbec, and sampled a splendid strawberry trifle and cream tea scone for dessert.