pelargoniums – Page 6 – derrickjknight

Survivors

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

My very good blogging friend G.P. Cox had a good laugh yesterday at my statement that ‘surely nothing could go wrong’, concerning my dental teeth cleaning appointment today. Well, GP, I do hope you are ready for another. I received a telephone call at lunchtime today cancelling the visit because the hygienist is ill. I guess I’ll just have to carry on doing it myself.

In complete contrast to yesterday, we enjoyed fine weather today.

Jackie continued taking tender plants and cuttings into protective custody in the greenhouse.

I tidied up a bit and photographed more survivors of the recent light frost.

Some, like this pansy, bore blisters of precipitation.

I am not sure which

of our many

fuchsias

is hardy

but at the moment they all seem to be.

Heucheras continue to flower,

as do clematises such as Polish Spirit.

Even The Duchess of Albany, long past her best, is capable of creating excitement.

Roses like Compassion,

Penny Lane,

Little Rambler,

and the ever ebullient Alan Titchmarsh remain in full bloom;

we have thick piles of carpet roses.

Pelargoniums glow with colour.

Some may be seen in the stone urns at the end of the brick path where solanum swathes the dead tree;

and more in the stone urns in the Rose Garden.

The red maple at one end of

the Shady Path will recover from its wind burns.

Here is a view from the end nearest the house.

Outside the utility room are just a few of the ubiquitous verbena bonarensis paying homage to the regal red climber on the wisteria arbour.

reds, pinks, and greens predominate in the Kitchen Bed.

This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, pickled onions, and gherkins. I finished the toro, which was a bit strong for fish and chips, but never mind.

Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Sections of my head need tweaking I attempted to manage two of them this morning. Neither was particularly straightforward.

A certain amount of nasal congestion appears to have blocked my left ear. I had made a non-urgent appointment with my GP for this morning. She informed me that both ears need syringing to remove a surfeit of wax On two occasions in the past this has been done free of charge in my GP surgeries. There is no longer funding for this, so I have two choices. I can have a referral to an NHS hospital where there would be a long wait, or I can pay £30 per ear to a private clinic. Thanking my lucky stars that I can afford it, I opted for the private route.

Given the demography of this area, there are a number of Hearing Centres in New MIlton. It would be a simple matter to select one.

While I was at the practice surgery I enquired about the referral letter for the necessary cataract adjustment that was to come from Boots Opticians. This had not been received. Jackie drove me to the optometrist where I was given a duplicate to take back to Milford on Sea. The gentleman kindly put it into an envelope for me.

Although Boots does apparently also deal with ears, it seemed sensible to visit the Hearing Centre directly opposite. After all, they don’t get distracted by eyes.

They don’t do wax removal. Neither does anyone else in the town. I was given a card for The Private Ear Clinic which has bases in Hythe and in Milford on Sea.

Back in the car, I had a look at the optometrist’s referral letter. It had been sent to the wrong freaking surgery.

Back out of the car, I returned to Boots where the eye man owned up to his mistake. I said something to the effect that we all make mistakes and I’d settle for calling him a berk. He altered the address. Jackie was going back to Milford to meet her sisters, so she took the form to deliver to the GP.

Back home I phoned the ear clinic, opted for the Milford venue, and made an appointment.

Where is the clinic?

It is in the hospital alongside the GP surgery. You go in the same door and turn left to enter the main building. One more example of private medicine being carried out in NHS property. I suppose our ailing public body needs the rent, otherwise they may have to sell the building for a housing development that no local people have the means to live in.

Tomorrow I have a quarterly teeth clean arranged. The rest of the time I do it myself. This is also a private arrangement, because even NHS treatment is now costly, and you can’t pick your time. Surely nothing can possibly go wrong.

We did have a light frost a couple of nights ago, but most of the garden has remained unscathed.

After lunch I set about photographing some of the survivors. Did I mention that I became rather damp getting in and out of the car? That is because, although the temperature was much milder, it rained all day. Not to be deterred I started in the front garden, but didn’t get very far.

On the trellis we still have solanum,

pink roses,

and pelargoniums in hanging baskets;

as for Mrs N. Thompson, what is she doing up at this time?

Nasturtiums still have strength to scale the front of the garage door

against which lighter pink pelargoniums flirt with another solanum.

Self-seeded bidens venture towards the pavement outside, beneath continually cascading petunias.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s lemon chicken, roast potatoes, cauliflower, and sautéed onions and leeks. I drank Tulga Toro 2013

The End Of British Summer Time

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Aaron was so pleased with our John Cook sculpture of him that he asked for a photograph. Naturally I printed him a copy of each of those that appeared in ‘A Particularly Strong Clue’.

Among other tasks today, he strengthened the new recycled gates arbour, under which the owl now stands on its plinth.

The planting in the foreground of the above photograph is just part of the extensive clearance and refurbishment of the West Bed that Jackie has achieved in recent weeks.

At the bed’s southern end verbena and pelargoniums still thrive in the urns, and erigerons carpet the surrounds of the New Bed.

Pelargoniums,

begonias of various shades,

and geraniums like the blue Rozanne still add colour.

Fuchsias abound;

tiny Hot Lips salvias dance in the Cryptomeria Bed;

Million Bells petunias entice campanologists at the corner of the patio alongside the kitchen wall.

Hebes

and honeysuckle seem to think it is Spring.

Roses like Margaret Merrill,

Lady Emma Hamilton,

Penny Lane,

and the deep pink climber soaring above the Oval Bed, remain confused.

Nasturtiums twine everywhere,

yet the winter flowering clematis Cirrhosa seems a little early,

as it festoons the gazebo under which I stood to produce this image of the path named after it.

To the right of the far end of that path, this was the view across the Cryptomeria Bed, showing the few leaves of the weeping birch that survived the recent storm.

The setting back of our clocks by one hour at 2 a.m. this morning signalled the official end of British Summer Time. Of course no-one gets up at that time to adjust all the timepieces in the house. We just have to try to remember when we get up.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla. My main meal was lamb taba shashlik jalfrezi; Jackie’s was chicken chom chom. We shared onion rice, an egg paratha, and onion bhaji, and both drank Kingfisher. Service and food were as good as ever.

Preparing For Ophelia

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

(Gwen and Yvonne, divert your eyes when it comes to the culinary coda)

Compared with what has been inflicted on Wales and Ireland by the albeit waning hurricane Ophelia, we have got off lightly.

This morning we made our usual preparations for protection from strong winds, notably laying down chairs, pedestals,

and hanging baskets.

Towards midday a fleeting glimpse of a bright red version of yesterday’s solar discs was seen peering from behind the billowing smoke

that was dark slate-coloured clouds. By the time I had gathered up the camera the sun had disappeared. The temperature was so unseasonably warm as to give the impression that there was, indeed, a fire somewhere.

I suspect that the birds thought they must be having a sleepless night;

but the weeping birch still hung unmolested.

By early afternoon the sky had lightened and the sun played upon the garden.

These pansies still brightened

the pots outside the kitchen door.

Fuchsias are among the flowers still blooming beside the greenhouse.

Various pelargoniums,

including this sweetly scented one;

and begonias still defy the coming of the first frost.

Delicate striped petunias thrive in the Cryptomeria Bed;

and white dahlias in Elizabeth’s Bed.

Among the rejuvenated roses are Just Joey,

Aloha,

Lady Emma Hamilton,

Mamma Mia,

and, photographed later, when the wind was getting up and making this spray elusive to the lens, Pink Abundance.

The weeping birch was now waving about,

as was the Cordyline Australis.

I wondered how many of these leaves would be in place in the morning.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s divine liver and bacon, new potatoes, cabbage and mange touts, with which I drank Chateau Bonhomme minervois 2016.

The Gauntlet

When I read Baroness Orczy’s timeless novel, ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’, I had a vague idea that this was a flower, but didn’t know what it looked like. We have a lovely little orange weed, rather like a forget-me-not in size, that crops up all over the garden. I haven’t been digging it up, because I find it so attractive. I was rather pleased, then, when, this morning, the head gardener informed me that this was scarlet pimpernel.
Different coloured poppies continue to bloom, if only for a day.
We also have nasturtiums, to which snails seem rather partial.
Different hued antirrhinums manage to hold their own with strident pelargoniums.
In the last of today’s plant photographs we have pilosella aurantiaca, otherwise known as orange hawkweed, a plant that in some parts of America and Australia is considered as an invasive species.

Today I completed the clearance of the right hand side of the front driveway that Jackie had begun yesterday.

I uprooted the last of the brambles and pruned most of the shrubs very severely, revealing more flowers, such as the day lilies. Jackie, who embellished the wall with a window box, assures me the heavily pruned growth will burgeon again next year. I certainly didn’t rival her treatment of the mahonia.
Painstakingly, I conveyed to a convolvulus that was making its way up an ornamental cherry tree that its presence was no longer required. Maybe I should have waited for a flower. It may have been a morning glory. I tied up the white rose that had taken to the ground in its bid to escape the other thorny rambler, which has torn holes in the fingers of my gardening gloves and left its mark on those inside.

A new pair, or at least the right hand gauntlet may be in order.

An attractive clematis now quivers in the breeze above the roses on the archway through to the front garden.
Fortunately, our guests of yesterday evening left enough of Jackie’s delicious beef casserole for us to finish it today. Strawberries and ice cream were to follow. I drank some Yellow Tail shiraz 2013, also courtesy of last night.