Tag: paths

Footpaths Today

Jackie and I undertook a Tesco’s shopping trip today, after she had made purchases at Ferndene Farm Shop.

After lunch I conducted a long dead heading session with my new Wilkinson’s secateurs given to me on my birthday by Flo and Dillon. Later, I produced a few garden photographs.

On the near corner of Flo’s Fairy Garden stand a little patio seating set waiting for a permanent place when some healthy plants have been thinned out and the elfin gravel paths have been cleared a bit.

One cluster of day lilies stands beside the Shady Path

Gazebo and Brick Paths all now cleared,

attention has now been given to footpaths across the beds like these to the Orange Shed and through the West Bed;

and to the decking area cleaned and potted up.

Tall lilies tower over even climbers like Shropshire Lad in the Rose Garden.

We have ubiquitous varieties of day lilies and hot lips throughout the beds.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in pleasant conversation with the ladies of all ages in the household.

This evening we all dined on superb pork and chive sausages with creamy mash and fried onions, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Sierra Los Andes Mendoza Malbec 2022.

A Faint Reflection

‘Trust Me, I’m A Doctor’

This morning I converted the above post from Classic to Block edit, changing with the normal gallery. Thinking I would still need to change the galleries, the pictures of which have been disappearing, I checked back to mid-May 2014 and found all was OK.

Feeling somewhat relieved I then continued my forward momentum, converting the four following posts and changing some categories to Garden:

Embellishments
Spaghetti, And How To Eat It
Recycling
Getting Heated

We English were known for obsessing about the weather long before the increasingly extreme, wild, terrifying, global fluctuations of recent decades. Our temperate climate is currently suffering less than many from fire, but torrential flooding is becoming more prevalent across UK.

Today the temperature in our gentler area of the country has plummeted to a good 10 degrees Celsius less than it was a few days ago when we had been hoping for rain denied us for weeks. Gloomy rough-hewn slate blocks the sun, and gusts of a stiff breeze toss flora and foliage every which way.

Even the promised rain couldn’t manage much more than a faint reflection in the patio paving.

That is why I spent the morning as I did and the afternoon making a good start on reading Lawrence Durrell’s “Livia”.

Jackie, however, did manage another two metres of the Brick Path weeding and the planting of an urn that Martin had recovered from behind the garden shed yesterday.

We can no longer watch Cricket Test Matches live on Freeview television, so my custom is to avoid radio coverage and turn off BBC TV news when it comes to sport, so that I remain blissfully ignorant of events until the evening transmission of highlights.

Today is the third day of the second Ashes match between England and Australia, so I won’t know until after dinner what happened yesterday once our middle order lashing lemmings launched themselves over the alluring antipodean cliff to squander the optimistic morning. As usual I will refrain from telling you for fear of spoiling your own deferred gratification.

This evening we all dined on a medley of tasty sausages and creamy mash; firm carrots and Brussels sprouts, and meaty gravy with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Lock Keeper’s reserve Shiraz 2022.

All Hands On Deck

Soothed by today’s gentler avian chorus, Jackie, Martin, and I all worked in the garden this morning.

The Head Gardener freed a couple more metres of the bricks on the eponymous path of their green packing, leaving a few more for future treatment.

After loading the rest of the refuse on the Back Drive into his van to remove when he left, Martin completed his meticulous weeding of Fiveways and the Shady Path;

then opened up the completely overgrown Head Gardener’s Walk for wobbly legs, enabling me to reach more spent roses from The Generous Gardener, in addition to which I did the same for Arthur Bell

and New Dawn;

then snipped secateurs, strapped straying stems in the Rose Garden, extracted weeds, and transported trugs of further refuse to add to Martin’s van load.

Later, working backwards from 6th July to 28th June 2014 I changed pictures to the normal Gallery, thus recovering them to the posts, which results in cropping of some images on each post which can nevertheless be viewed in full in the galleries. This is more annoying than excessively time consuming.

This evening we all dined on beef and chicken burgers, fried onions, and fresh salad with which I drank more of the Appassimento and Jackie drank Hoegaarden.

More Attractive Than Triffids

Bright sunshine casting shadows beneath a clear blue sky shortly before midday when I took a chilly walk around the garden belied the temperatures skirting freezing which, during a current further cold spell below 0 centigrade sending rivulets of condensation from our bedtime breath dripping down walls and misting tightly closed windows until we were able to fling them open and dash shivering downstairs to our electric portable radiators timed to ignite at their lowest heat level an hour before Jackie but perhaps a couple after I expected to emerge.

Snowdrops and hellebores share the limelight with, at a higher level, a

variety of camellias;

daffodils are following up fast;

fern filigrees and honesty seed bud traceries are picked out by the clear light, as are

new shoots from our recently pruned roses.

When we first arrived here the garden of the then abandoned next door house, North Breeze, rampaged through our land, as demonstrated by

The Day Of The Triffids

Now we have the benefit of attractive, sweet scented, acacia,

currently in bloom, hanging over the Back Drive fence.

This afternoon I watched the Six Nations rugby match between Scotland and France – probably the most impressive contest I have ever seen.

For dinner this evening Jackie produced her omelette-topped egg fried rice on which to bed hot and spicy, and tempura prawn preparations, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

Nine Years On

Early this morning I watched a recording of the Women’s Rugby World Cup quarter final match between New Zealand and Wales.

After lunch I wandered around the garden on another balmy shirt-sleeves- afternoon, primarily to admire

Martin’s work on the Shady Path.

As can be seen, the weeds are gone, but beech leaves

and Mrs Popple blooms are beginning to weave a new carpet;

the Gazebo Path still sports weeds and more welcome encroaching plants;

the Heligan path, named because when we first arrived nine years ago we didn’t know it was there,

is becoming almost as overgrown as it was then;

the Brick Path,

the Phantom Path,

and the Kitchen Path are all flanked by still blooming beds.

This afternoon we took a short forest drive which I will feature tomorrow.

Tonight we dined on Jackie’s wholesome chicken stewp. She had drunk her Hoegaarden beforehand. I finished the Malbec.

On The Brink of October

This morning I trained my camera on the garden from various vantage points

beginning with our en suite bathroom window.

From the patio can be seen, against the kitchen wall, some of the glorious zinnias that Jackie grew from seed and spread abundantly around the beds;

and this corner of the Pond Bed sporting Delta’s Sarah fuchsia, geraniums, petunias, and the ubiquitous erigeron;

this side of the Chilean lantern Bed, with its begonias, Japanese anemones, and dahlias lies alongside

the Gazebo Path, dappled by a sunny interval, as was

the owl and Mrs Popple fuchsia in the Cryptomeria Bed,

and the Weeping Birch bed with its well out of season kniphofias, and further fuchsias.

Shadows were cast across the Brick Path and its flanking flowers.

Finally I focussed on the prolific varieties of bloom around the Wisteria Arbour. These are our colours on the brink of October.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome cottage pie, firm broccoli and cauliflower, crunchy carrots, tender cabbage, and meaty gravy with which the Culinary Queen drank Hogaarden, I drank Comté Tolosan Rouge, and Flo and Dillon abstained.

Volunteers, Casualties, Survivors

Our Head Gardener this morning toured the garden making

a pictorial record of its current condition now the full force of the heatwave seems to have subsided somewhat. Some may consider that the task which fell to me – loading the pictures into the computer, making the tiled gallery and titling the individual images with some additional information – was rather easier.

This evening we dined on succulent roast chicken; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower and broccoli; tender runner beans, and flavoursome gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden, I drank more of the Bordeaux, and Flo and Dillon drank Ribena.

A Stream Of Cyclists

Yesterday Jackie put in more work perfecting the Rose Garden clearance. The path leading to the white seat had been weeded by Flo.

When she noticed the bag of recycling material outside our front door ripped open this morning with its contents distributed round the garden, Jackie wondered what had done this. After she cleared it up and stepped out the back the answer became clear.

Badgers had returned. The Waterboy arrangement, the corner pots on the patio edge of the Pond Bed, and the stumpery had been wrecked. Before I photographed the damage The Head Gardener had righted the second two sites although she had missed the ornamental mouse trampled into the patio gravel, and the earth was still strewn across the Brick Path. In the process Jackie had disturbed a wasp’s nest, one resident of which stung her.

Later in the morning Dillon, straight off the plane, arrived with Flo and Becky who had collected him on arrival soon after 7.00 a.m. None of the three had slept during the night, so the young couple went straight to bed and Becky rested on our sofa for a while before setting off back to Southbourne. She later texted to let us know she had arrived home safely.

I scanned 14 of our granddaughter’s colourful drawings before Jackie and I lunched at

The Rising Sun. The allegedly Light Bites we enjoyed were

a Ploughman’s Lunch for me and tuna salad for Mrs Knight.

The photograph of the pub above was taken from the cracked and hoof-pitted-concrete-moulded terrain of Wootton Common opposite.

The extra large photograph albums I ordered for the wedding photographs arrived this morning.

New Forest Cycling Club had gathered by the stream at Wootton Car Park. As we arrived they trooped off down the road

and left the increasingly shallow shingle bed to other visitors.

This evening we dined on Red Chilli’s excellent takeaway fare with which Jackie and Dillon drank Hoegaarden, Flo drank water, and I drank Chassaux Rasteau 2019.

South End Back In Order

Martin finished the work on and around the Oval Bed –

pictured in progress

and on completion.

The Rose Garden has been rather neglected during the last week or so. Our friend just had time to shave the rampant red carpet rose and bag up the clippings before it was time for him to return home. He has certainly got the rest of the south end of the garden back in order.

While Martin gardened I printed – another 59 of the wedding photographs before I ran out of ink this afternoon. Becky ordered me some more on line while I sourced the albums myself.

In order to keep an eye on the printing process I do not leave the machine which takes quite a time. This has enabled me to make a very good start on reading “The Moonstone” which Becky bought for me for my birthday.

Topped up with a little of Jackie’s rice we dined this evening on the last of the Red Chilli takeaway with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2020

Enough For A Splash

Our Waterboy feature had been reduced to a mere trickle by the narrow pipe feeding the fountain from the pump being clogged up. Jackie spent much of

the morning clearing the blockages and restoring normal working order.

I dozed over an Iris Murdoch for most of this very hot day until 5 p.m. when I

adjudged it cool enough for a walk around the garden with my camera. These images all bear titles in the gallery.

Jackie had slept upstairs for a couple of hours, and, refreshed, suggested a drive to Puttles Bridge to investigate the condition of Ober Water, which,

although far shallower than usual contained just enough liquid for

a dog chasing a stick to create a splash.

Unfortunately the first thing I saw as I disembarked in the car park had been

a heap of discarded rubbish. There is of course a bin nearby.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy paprika pork served with boiled potatoes and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.