patio – Page 2 – derrickjknight

It Wouldn’t Go Away

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

A glance at the sitting room floor this morning

set me chasing shadows, there;

across the kitchen table

and floor;

on the patio;

along the Gazebo Path;

beside the Cryptomeria Bed;

across the grass;

beside the outlet for the heating system steam;

along the Head Gardener’s Walk,

and the Brick Path.

Normally I work hard to exclude my own shadow, but it wouldn’t go away.

Late this afternoon we drove out to Mudeford, where

the Isle of Wight and The Needles benefited from the clear light,

as did holiday homes and beach huts.

Two gentlemen wheeled their boat onto dry land.

Distant rain clouds released their precipitation,

while those over the harbour displayed silver linings.

We motored on into the forest. Sheep in a field alongside Snails Lane, Ringwood, basked in the last rays of the sun.

By the time we reached Abbotswell

dusk had arrived

bringing a pink trim

to soft mink clouds.

This evening we dined on succulent pork chops served with tasty Lincolnshire pork sausages on a bed of mushrooms, peppers, and mushrooms; cauliflower in cheese sauce; mashed potato and swede; and green beans. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the malbec.

Poppy Does Watering

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

As we sat on the patio chairs with Aaron and his partner Leah, discussing the morning’s gardening, Poppy appeared in the kitchen doorway. Matthew soon followed, completing the pleasant surprise.

Granny was soon enjoying a cuddle.

Poppy pottered around playing with pebbles and a car given to her by Akram at Lal Quilla on her last visit there.

Displaying a rapid two-gun draw, she then began irrigating the paving

and washing an owl

Jackie employed a novel method of keeping the cans filled,

and Poppy trotted off to water the flowers in the Kitchen Bed.

For our dinner this evening, Matthew and Poppy joined Jackie in a trip to Mr Chatty Man Chan at Hordle Chinese Take Away, and returned with a scrumptious selection including our granddaughter’s favourite noodles.

She sampled most other items, including spare ribs.

Mini Marathon Rewards

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Yesterday evening, apparently of its own accord, our front door opened and in walked a dog.

Not to worry, it was Scooby, soon to be followed by Becky and Ian who had come to stay the night.

As we sat around the kitchen table, lowering sunlight played on the eucalyptus blooms.

This morning I cut the grass while Aaron continued with the fencing.

After this, I scanned the last few negatives of the October 1983 mini marathon, featured in the last two posts.

Louisa was quick to join the leaders having first go at the refreshments.

This time, Sam really had finished his run,

and took his turn at the scoff;

along with all the others, including our stalwart Nos. 1 and 2.

No. 24., considered by some readers to be elegant enough to be a potential professional, remained equally composed at the trough.

This afternoon, Becky noticed a considerable amount of pink, with which she produced this symphonic work.

Standing on a sitting room carpet

she glanced through the patio French windows

at the sheets drying on the chairs toning nicely with the flowers and the maple reflecting the velvet curtains.

This evening we all dined at Lal Quilla in Lymington, where we enjoyed our usual warm welcome, efficient service, and excellent food. My main meal was king prawn naga and chapatis. Three of us drank Kingfisher and Becky drank rosé wine.

Sleeping Beauty

TO ENLARGE IMAGES CLICK ON THEM. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

Today, I continued redistributing the gravel on the back drive. This involved shifting barrow loads of the material from one end to another, and raking them smooth. There is more to be done.

Whilst I was there, I noticed, swaying in the breeze, the one Félicité Perpetué bloom that has yet arrived on what should soon be a splendid display draped over the dead stumps.

On the compost corner the rescued rhododendron is now quite prolific.

Does Wedding Day rose, on the Agriframes arch, bloom whilst the viburnum plicatum, visible beneath the arch, is still flowering? If so, the two plants will be in tune.

The Rose Garden now burgeons daily. On the wall of the shed hangs the bird bath Vicki made for us.

A Schoolgirl has come out to play;

and Gloriana is living up to her name.

In the morning this was a view from the kitchen window,

before Jackie removed the honesty to the right, thus revealing the large white clematis Marie Boisselot to anyone sitting in the patio. I put that particular heap of seeding plants onto the compost, because there are plenty more hanging up to dry, ready for scattering later in the year. The frog king, and his princely son ogle Jattie’s sculpture, the sleeping beauty.

We took a short break on the patio with our fizzy lime squash, and surveyed one of Jackie’s myriad of maintenance tasks, namely the tidying up of the corner shingle bed, into which she has set an attractive piece of stone.

Until now, the honesty has carried the purple torches throughout the garden. The batons have now been passed to geranium palmatums.

This evening we dined on our second helping of Chinese takeaway, with which I drank Patrick Chadot Fleurie 2014, and Jackie drank Hoegaarden.

Before And After: The Patio

Once more, wet and warm described the day’s weather.

Although we have created a gravelled patio at the south end of the garden, there always was a designed one alongside the back of the house. This, in April 2014 was full of weeds and the surrounding areas were overgrown. Our project is a continuing one, so will no doubt evolve still further, but The Patio is the final section, prepared today, for the garden album.

On 7th May 2014 the area was dominated by next door’s photinia and lonicera hedge; and our own ficus and poplar.

By 13th, we had weeded the cracks between the paving stones, but not yet disguised the blue painted Butler sink;

by 27th, our trees were trimmed;

and by 28th the sink was surrounded by rocks on shingle, and we had refurbished the boundary with our neighbours, using a length of ornamental wrought iron and a useless door from inside the house.

This corner was festooned with flowers on 14th August when Scooby had a look round, then went on the prowl.

After an unusually cold August, it wasn’t until September 14th that we enjoyed afternoon tea there with Mum and Elizabeth. Note that the side gate is still fixed and covered with trellis.

The rocks around the sink, on 1st January 2015, provided useful cover for a rat attracted by the bird food.

We tried to maintain the ficus with heavy pruning, but eventually decided it had to go. I finally removed its roots on 18th September.

The next day Jackie planted up the vacant space in which pansies were blooming on 12th October.

This afternoon I printed and pasted the Gazebo Path section into the album.

Chicken thighs baked in West Indian chili sauce; special fried rice; and mange touts, cob corn, and carrots were produced by Jackie for our dinner this evening. A selection of Tesco’s cream cakes was to follow. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Reserve des Tugets Madiran 2012.

Before And After: The Dead End Path

Becky’s August Birthday meal was twice postponed through illness, as was Ian’s earlier in October. Everyone was fit for Ian’s daughter Heather’s recent one. That is why we drove to Emsworth last night. As far as Becky was concerned, she was just going to Nicolino’s Italian restaurant across the road from their flat with Heather and her husband, Chris. She was open-mouthed when the other four arrived in the restaurant to see Jackie and me sitting there. We enjoyed a very pleasant evening with excellent food and service. My choice was minestrone soup followed by spaghetti Al Pescatore. I had no room for dessert. Valpolicella was my beverage.

Today was a very wet one. I began by making my final selection of three prints for The First Gallery Christmas exhibition. We need to take them to Paul for framing, and will do that in the next day or two to meet the submissions deadline.

These images have all appeared in previous posts. I have chosen them for variety. The first is of Quay Street, Lymington, this July. The walkers are Danni and Andy. The next, a stump, was from our garden on 24th January this year. Finally, we have a portrait of Jackie in July 1967, heavily cropped and converted to black and white

I continued with the production of the next sequence for the garden progress album. This is The Dead End Path.

This shot of the garden on 7th May 2014, shows why the path has its name. Behind the blue painted Butler sink is a low wall separating the path from the patio. In the bottom left hand corner, incidentally can be seen the start of a collection of rubbish from inside the house. This was destined for the dump.

The above-mentioned sink had two companions on the path leading from the brick path behind it. We moved them on 17th May. I had to empty them before being able to move them at all. A couple of thyme plants therein now thrive on the patio.

I managed to shift them as far as the low wall, but definitely needed the assistance of Jackie and a lever to lift them onto the wall.

What on earth do you do with two hefty lumps of white stoneware covered in peeling blue paint? Disguise seemed the only option.

By 16th June, all three of the sinks were suitably clad, at least on the patio side. It is the Gazebo Path that trails away on the left hand side of the photograph.

The new planting was established by 18th September 2015, but the Dead End Path side still exposes its peeling paint. The Compassion rose to the left has benefited from clearing out the undergrowth which had choked it.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb sausage casserole, mashed potato and swede, piquant cauliflower cheese, and boiled carrots, cabbage, and mange touts. She drank sparkling water, and i quaffed Castilo San Lorenzo rioja reserva 2010.

Confusion For Flora And Fauna

Jackie continued with general garden maintenance today.

Here she applies anti-vine weevil solution to all her many heucheras.

As became clear last year, there is no defined boundary between us and the empty North Breeze next door. In particular, that at the front is concocted from self seeded trees, rotting planks of wood, and what I take to be one of the pre-Everest window frames from our house. The glass panes have long since become estranged from their lead. Some have remained intact, but others have broken and found their way into the thin layer of soil in which a few weeds have managed to survive. This earth has been laid on top of gravel, thus narrowing the path that led round the house.

My task was to remove this soil in order to expose the shingle, thus widening the path. This was easier said than done. That is because the strip was full of tree roots, rubble, concrete, bramble, and ivy. I just dug it over. Moving it can wait.

A view from the south west corner of the patio shows the condition of our neighbour’s back garden, and some of the panels we have set in place to keep the triffids at bay.

We continue to enjoy such warm, sunny, weather as to become somewhat confusing to flora and fauna alike.

The clematis Montana clothing the large dead tree alongside the new bed is blooming again.

The owl in the dead snake bark maple, especially having experienced the bright super moon throughout the night, just cannot get to sleep.

Antirrhinums are growing alongside sedums.

Butterflies and bees like these in

cosmos and

kniphofia must be convinced we are still enjoying summer.

The asters, however, know what the season is.

This evening we dined on fillet steak; a moist melange of mushrooms, leaks, onions, and peppers; and crisp carrots, green beans, and new potatoes. I drank Via di Cavallo Chianti 2014. Jackie had already enjoyed her Hoegaarden in the rose garden.

Supporting Big Ben

Jackie and I began the day with a trip to Ferndene Farm shop for more gravel, for the patio corner and the path completed a couple of days ago that I am freshening up. We didn’t quite have enough for both, but I think you will get the picture.

A few more flowers were planted in the area cleared yesterday, including some Japanese anemones moved from the gravelled platform.
After this my chauffeuse drove me to New Milton for my trip to London.
From Waterloo I took the Westminster Bridge route to Carol’s in Rochester Row.

Despite the dull day, the South Bank was so crowded as to be almost impassable. The lovelocks, which have become a menace in so many major cities, have been removed from the handrails beside the steps up to the bridge.
Everywhere, as usual, cameras and mobile phones were brandished in the direction of the targeted sights.

The piper had his customary entourage of visitors recording his image. One beautifully smiling young woman took direction from her male photographer crouching low on the ground guiding her positioning of her hand for a shot in which she was to be seen supporting Big Ben.
On leaving Carol’s, I travelled by the Circle Line from St James’s Park to Edgware Road tube station from where I walked to the Akash restaurant for an enjoyable time and meal with my friend Jessie. This gave me an opportunity to exchange greetings with other friends from my favourite Bangladeshi establishment.
On the train I finished reading Desmond Seward’s history of ‘The Wars of the Roses’. From the very first paragraph of the author’s introduction we are dramatically drawn into this description of the fickle family feuds over the throne of England that occupied the country during the last decades of the fifteenth century. The maps, chronology, who’s who, and dynastic family trees that supplement the well researched and lively text make a good job of unravelling the story. I only wish I could hope to remember it all.
I moved on to Victoria’s Park, a novel by B. J. Haynes.
Jackie met me at New Milton station and drove me home.

Agnes and Gert

Roughly at dog snot level throughout the ground floor of our house was a dado frieze painted by nose with pigment it is best not to enquire about.

There was a concentration on door jambs. Jackie and Elizabeth between them did excellent work cleaning this off. This morning Jackie found one she had missed and gave it her best attention later on.
One of the piles of rubbish for eventual removal, photographed previously, lay on an imaginatively textured set of patio paving fronting the French windows to the sitting room. This rather ruined the view, so today I decided to move the detritus to join that on the larger heap at the side of the house.

Next, I weeded the cracks between the stones, returned the overspills of earth to the surrounding flower beds, and gave everything a good sweep. I also tidied up the numerous tubs and window boxes our predecessors had filled with delightful spring bulbs to welcome us. Each time I carried weeds to the compost heap, I pulled up lots of sticky Willies on the way. One set of these tentacles was entwined around stinging nettles, the welcome of which continues to throb as I type. Between showers this took most of the day, apart from a shopping trip to B & Q, to Stewart’s Garden Centre, and finally to The Ferndene Farm Shop.
Close observers of what our daughter Becky calls the hobo on the bench in yesterday’s photograph, will have noticed that the grass needs cutting. We went to B & Q for a strimmer and a few other things, one of which was a garden kneeler.

They didn’t have the latter piece of equipment there so we bought one in Stewart’s.
Those same close observers may have noticed the dirty knees of my trousers, indicating a certain amount of genuflection. Should they be under sixty they will probably have no idea of the difficulty that this movement can present. I know I certainly didn’t when I was.
I remember my Dad saying to me: ‘You know you are getting old when you have to use your hands to get out of a chair’. The same is true of rising from a penitent pose. As can be seen from the photograph above, this kneeler provides supports for that very movement.
This bring me to AGNES (Age Gain Now Empathy System) and GERT (the GERontolic Test suit). These are the usually tortuously contrived acronyms, but never mind, what they represent are age simulation suits. Originally introduced in the motor car industry they are now used for training in the caring and health professions to give younger people, who are after all those working with the aged, an idea of the restrictions that come with advancing years.

So-called ageing suits are made of materials that restrict movement of the knees, elbows, back and neck, and use gloves to reduce the sense of touch, goggles to simulate blurry vision, and ear muffs to reduce hearing.
One aspect of the arthritis which causes most of the problems of flexibility, that the suits cannot reproduce, is the associated pain, but maybe experiencing the restricted movement and apparent deterioration of other faculties will enable the need for pain relief to be better understood.
We dined this evening on Jackie’s superb chilli con carne (recipe) with wild rice, followed by Post House Pud which consists, like The Firs Mess, of merangues filled with whatever fruit, cream, ice cream and suchlike is available. I finished the Marques de Carano.

Vertigo

Before the rain set in, Jackie in particular having got up early, we managed to get quite a bit of planting done, and even start a bonfire. New and older, refurbished, beds are being filled, and, where necessary, thinned out; some plants being separated and moved.

The variously hued heuchera make a colourful display.

The patio area, which has received Jackie’s attention all through the year, now looks splendid.

Jackie has, in this area, and in her hanging baskets transplanted her small London garden into Elizabeth’s The Firs. For the short length of time the sun was out today the flowers could be seen in all their glory. By about 11 a.m. we gave up, left the planting, the bonfire, and the new bed I was starting, to the elements, and went off, smelling of wood smoke, to Sainsburys to buy wine for Bill’s birthday. Helen and Bill are hoping to hold a barbecue to celebrate this tomorrow. As we were nearing Sainsburys Jackie mentioned that last week their entrance hall had been totally given over to a display of raincoats and umbrellas for sale. They had obviously had a run on them because there were none there today. What they clearly had not had a run on was their stock of garden recliners. An announcement came over the public address system offering them at a price reduced to £10. We didn’t think we would have much use for one this year. We did, however, wonder whether one of the gazebos sold in Hilliers’ garden centre which we visited on the way back, might be a good method of keeping the rain off the gardeners at work. Later, without knowing this, Elizabeth made the same speculation.

From Sainsburys we went on to Wickham where we found a present for Flo. Before arriving at Wickham we stopped off at the vineyard for a tasting. Although I could manage, at a pinch, to recognise the taste of strawberries in one of the wines, I struggled with some of the other fruits which differed from the grape. What was more difficult was to discern any aroma other than the charred wet wood lingering on the fingers holding my glass. Having sampled everything in sight we came away with six bottles and two tea towels. Jackie thought it was quite ridiculous of me to buy two French tea towels to take to France. It seemed perfectly logical to me. We returned to Elizabeth’s for lunch, and, as so often when eating, the subject for discussion was the efficacy or otherwise of various forms of dieting.

Over breakfast Elizabeth and I had discussed Cottenham Park, the theme of yesterday’s post, and she had also remembered trips to Dundonald Recreation Ground in Wimbledon. The path along which we would have walked is featured on 11th. May. As a little girl she had been disconcerted by the gaps between the flooring planks of the bridge over the railway to that destination. Being able to see through them to the railway lines, to her so very far, below, she thinks is when she discovered her fear of heights. My similar awareness came much later when, in my early forties, deciding that the guttering of our house in Gracedale Road needed attention, I bought a nice long ladder. Starting to scale it, I began to get a bit wobbly. The ladder remained firmly fixed; it was I who was unsteady. I never did get to the top, and, for all I know, the guttering still needs attention.

My paralysis was always worse when there were children involved. I feared for them as much as for myself. A few years before I bought that ladder, in 1973, I had, alone, taken Michael, Matthew and Becky to North Wales for a few days. The little ones went running towards the pitch dark waters of a lake. I was concerned that they might fall in and called them away. Had I known at that moment that it was an extremely deep disused slate quarry I would not have been half so calm about it.

Much later, when Sam was about ten, and therefore older than Mat had been in 1973, we were walking as a family in Cumbria. On our return journey I was faced with a sheer rock face we had to climb. Looking back now it wasn’t much more than fifteen feet or so, and we had come down it with no difficulty. The problem for me was that I could not see beyond the skyline at the top. Emptiness beckoned. Sam clearly sensed my fears. He took my hand, said: ‘this way Dad,’ and led me up.

Later still, again in the Lake District, the family and Ali and Steve wanted to climb up from Grasmere, across Striding Edge, to a summit whose name I can’t remember. Striding Edge is a notoriously narrow ridge with a sheer drop of thousands of feet either side. No way was I going that way. I took a softer route, but, seeing it as part of my marathon training, I ran all the way up. I was going great guns until I slipped on some scree and looked up to see a straight line on the horizon above me. My brain produced a similar affect to the time mentioned above. I sat down. After a while I gritted my teeth, rose to my feet, and began to climb. Pretty soon I sat down again. This went on for about three quarters of an hour during which I’d covered about fifty yards, but had reached the top. The sheer drop I’d feared turned out to be a very wide path about as wide as Oxford Street. ‘What a twit’, I thought. I then strode along to the agreed meeting point, glancing across the wide open space to Striding Edge. I could see my family silhouetted against the skyline on the sharp bit of an enormous razor blade. I sat down again. Gradually piecing myself together I managed to arrive at the summit at more or less the same time as the others. Somewhere there is a photograph to prove it.

Until I began my reguIar flights to France I always had similar discomfort on a plane. This was mostly on takeoff and landing. It is now no longer a problem. Should I go on climbing expeditions with the same regularity? I don’t think so, somehow. I understand Tom Cruise is rather short; nevertheless watching him at the beginning of ‘Mission Impossible’ was a tall order for me.

This evening I made a beef rogan josh. Elizabeth and I committed the crime of drinking red wine with it; Marques de Montino Reserve rioja 2007. Jackie had the Co-op’s Jubilation beer. There were a couple of slight hitches over the samosas, which were from Sainsburys. I called the ladies for their food and Jackie asked me if I’d done the samosas. I hadn’t. ‘How long do they take?’, I asked. ‘Oven. Top. Ten minutes.’ was the reply. Elizabeth turned on the oven. I waited a while and put the samosas in. Ten minutes later I was ready to serve up. Unfortunately the samosas were cold. What had I done? The cooker is a Belling range model and I had put the samosas in the top left section which happened to be the grill. The bottom left oven had been blasting away with nothing on its top shelf. Something got lost in translation. However, the meal went down very well, and as, as always, I wasn’t quite sure what my method had been, Jackie told us the story of the Victorian parlour song ‘The Lost Chord’. You may need to Google it.

During the ten minutes or so that we were finally waiting for the samosas we did a tour of the garden to admire the work that Jackie had been able to do during intervals in the rain. It was then that we realised we had been engaged in a triple role reversal. Jackie had done the gardening, Elizabeth had been hanging pictures, and who had done the cooking?