pigeon – derrickjknight

View From The Pillbox

The briefest glimpse of the weak sun effecting a halo on the silhouetted lonely pigeon in the copper beech that Jackie photographed this morning was its only appearance on this otherwise grimly dismal day.

She had left the house from the stable door in order to sweep beneath the wisteria arbour.

Nugget, immediately perching on her long-handled dustpan, had other ideas.

The Head Gardener decided to use her other broom. Her robin was onto that, too, so

she simply photographed him, on the ground, on the broom, and on the coiled wisteria, until he suddenly took off

( “Where’s Nugget?” (54) )

to sing war cries to Muggle. Now “Where’s Nugget” (55).

Sway Tower from South Sway Lane emerged into view from the murk as we drove into the forest this gloomy afternoon.

Through the five-barred gate pillbox slit the red deer herd were seen stepping elegantly across the lawns of Burley Manor.

On the outskirts of the village a sudden rapid jerky movement alerted us to the presence of a squirrel among a pile of logs awaiting the decomposition that would return them to the soil.

Further on the sodden terrain contained pools reflecting trees;

fresh reflecting streams bubbling along;

and loosened shallow roots of toppling trees. It is not simply the gusting winds that bring down these forest residents.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome shepherds pie; crunchy carrots, cauliflower, and Brussel’s sprouts with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Bordeaux.

Lovey Dovey

Last night I watched a recording of yesterday’s Rugby World Cup match between Wales and Fiji, and this afternoon that between Argentina and USA.

This morning we took a short drive into the forest.

The leaves of deciduous trees viewed before Sway Tower from South Sway Lane are just trying on autumnal tinges, and some of the field horses now wear their warming rugs in preparation for the colder nights which they have so far been spared.

Known as Peterson’s Folly this iconic edifice is situated on Flexford Lane, on the opposite side of which Judge Peterson built a trial of the building in order to demonstrate the construction capacity of concrete.

The prototype now appears to be a boarded up dovecote

visited by the odd pigeon,

one of which attracted the attention of its white cousin cruising up for

companionable canoodling.

Maybe the dove admiring itself in the conservatory window reflection was considering entering the fray.

While I watched the match Jackie helped Nugget to plant some bulbs.

“Where’s Nugget?” (35).

He allowed her to plant this row of festuca glauca in honour of Mick O’Neill and Bluegrass Parkway.

This evening we dined on old gold smoked haddock; creamy mashed potatoes; piquant cauliflower cheese; crunchy bright orange carrots; and tender green runner beans with which Jackie drank Blue Moon and I drank more of the Malbec.

Nesting Teapots

Before visiting Otter Nurseries for compost this morning we took a drive into the forest.

We met two different large vans on Undershore. This was the widest, straightest, end of this narrow sinuous lane.

A solitary pony made its way past a row of old thatched cottages facing the green at Pilley.

On the outskirts of the village, a group of ponies on the road revealed the freshly cut tails clearly received during a recent Drift.

I don’t think any of them would have tossed this can onto the verge.

Overlooked by a pigeon atop a dying tree

fine islands of water lilies float on a section of Hatchet Pond,

where an eager moorhen went blackberrying.

A slender barefoot woman walked over the shingle at low tide on Tanners Lane beach; rolled up her jeans; and joined her frisky dog splashing and paddling.

I spent the afternoon listening to the second day of the fourth Ashes Test match.

Jackie presented two teapots for Nugget’s consideration.

One is hidden on the trunk of the copper beech;

another in the ivy against the south fence of the Rose Garden.

“Where’s Nugget?” (15)

The Head Gardener also photographed these views.

This evening we dined on a splendid meal at Faros in Milford on Sea. Jackie chose Zucchini fritters followed by lamb giouvetsi with plentiful fresh salad; my selection was baked meatballs and beef stilfado with chips. Mrs Knight drank half of a Toast while I drank Xinomavro.

Nest Building

For some time now, Aaron, our very own Green Man, has been working his way through the removal of the stumps of the old grizelinia hedging that he cut down a year or two back. This morning he completed the task.

We now have several clusters of snake’s head fritillaries;

orange and yellow epimedium, which here blends well a fading daffodil;

the ubiquitous honesty;

a range of hellebores preparing to drop their seeds;

and these wallflowers fronting euphorbia.

Birds such as darting goldfinches in the cypress, and cumbersome pigeons in the copper beech just coming into leaf are busy nesting.

Reminding me of ‘And What Came Next?‘, a Red Admiral butterfly and a fly slumber alongside each other beneath

catkins dangling from the weeping birch.

For a long, leisurely, lunch Mat, Tess, Poppy, Jackie, and I joined Sam, Holly, Malachi, and Orlaith at Hoburne, Bashley, holiday home site. The food, service, and facilities were excellent. I chose a fishcake and salad starter followed by a plentiful roast beef dinner. Others also enjoyed their selections. We shared Prosecco, one glass of which was free for each of the Mothers on their day. None of us could eat a dessert. Afterwards the adults sat in the sunshine while the children played football and generally ran about.

Always A Drop To Drink

Today was milder and wetter. Last autumn, Jackie had planted up a pair of tubs for Mum’s garden. Now the intended recipient occupies a care home, one of these graces the garden of her empty bungalow. The other stands in front of the trellis adorning our garage door.

We took a short trip to the East of the forest, where, at East End the stunning golden mimosa tree is in full bloom;

a pigeon looks down on it from a nearby naked oak.

The corner of St Leonard’s Road and the road to East Boldre is as waterlogged as always once we have experienced considerable rainfall. Water overflows onto the road and vehicles spray as they pass.

At East Boldre a chestnut pony, ankle-deep in another pool, slakes its thirst. Today it can be said that there was water, water, everywhere, and always a drop to drink.

This evening we dined on tangy lemon chicken; creamy mashed potato; crunchy carrots; and tender peas.

Who’s The Daddy?

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As soon as the shops were open this morning we set off on a slipper hunt for my hospital stay. We found a pair immediately at Stephan Shoes in New Milton. We then travelled to the Community Centre in Milford on Sea, where I might have left my blog card case the other day. There was no-one in the office. Next port of call was Peacock’s Computers who had not yet received a dongle they had ordered for my MacBook. I was also unable to send e-mails and left the machine for James to solve the problem.

Ah, well, I had bought the slippers, and James did solve the problem later.

Whilst I was occupied with the computer Jackie waited for me in the car park behind the High Street. I walked the long way round: past the war memorial and through the graveyard of the parish church of St Thomas the Apostle. Pigeons and other birds occasionally perched on the gravestones, and candelabra lit the chestnut trees.

We then took a drive through the forest. Sun-dappled lanes through which we traversed included Barnes; Undershore, where we happily negotiated motor cars and cyclists; and Shirley Holms alongside which field horses enhanced the terraced landscape.

The more open stretches of Shirley Holms were alive with grazing ponies. I focussed on a family group. The smallest foal clung steadfastly to its chestnut mother. A larger, very similar, junior wandered a little further afield from his white (grey) parent. It seemed to me that the grey coloured adult more attached to these last two was probably a stallion, suggesting that there was no need to ask “who’s the daddy?”. A woman on horseback approached us from further down the slope.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb pasta arrabbiata with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.

Was It Something In The Water?

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This morning was spent Christmas shopping in New Milton and in Brockenhurst

Jackie parked the car in Butts Lane, Brockenhurs and I walked alongside the stream beside it.

At the far end a ford leads to Park Close. The water level gauge shows

it is quite shallow at this point.

Vehicles are able to cross easily, and send ripples along the waterway.

Trees,

buildings,

and fences rippled in the water.

Wild rose hips wound over the wooden bridge rails.

A chaffinch took advantage of shrubbery camouflage,

spanning the stream.

This didn’t conceal a wood pigeon.

Perhaps this bird had lost a feather.

Jumping jackdaws scratched around on the bank.

Although I saw no birds in the stream, the pigeon had a bath in,

and the jackdaws drank from, a pool beside a house. Was it something in the water?

This evening we dined on barbecued pork spare ribs, prawn toasts, and Jackie’s exceedingly savoury rice. She drank more of the sauvignon blanc and I drank Mendoza Parra Alta malbec 2016.

Kuti’s

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Today was a busy one with not much time to post. Jackie drove us to Emsworth where we decanted into Ian’s car. He drove us, with Becky as well, to their financial advisor in Pagham where we sought his advice on a loan.

On our return to Emsworth we stopped for a drink at The Walnut Tree in Runction in West Sussex.

We then returned to our own car and Jackie drove to Hedge End near Elizabeth’s for her to check out the route for an appointment she has early in the morning. We are staying the night at my sister’s.

We spent a while chatting in her garden, under the beady eye of an inquisitive wood pigeon.

Wondering whether my chair had begun to sway, I eventually realised that the wooden chapel in Geoff and Jackie’s garden had developed a list to starboard.

The three of us dined at Kuti’s Indian restaurant in Fair Oak. I almost forgot to photograph the excellent spread.

My choice was possibly the best king prawn jalfrezi I have tasted. We shared onion bhajis, mushroom and pilau rice, plain paratha, and Bombay aloo. Elizabeth drank Indian Runner beer, Jackie’s choice was Tiger, and mine, Cobra.

Back Drive Progress

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We spent the morning of another dull, overcast, day continuing the general tidying of the garden.

Many new aquilegias are fully or partially blooming.

Over the last few days Jackie has been fine-tuning my weeding of the back drive. In addition to digging up a few more invading brambles, most of my work this morning was transferring the Head Gardener’s piles of weeds to the compost heap. We just need to apply an herbicidal spray to the gravel and the job will be done.

More irises;

geraniums like these Johnson’s Blue from Gloucestershire’s Hidcote Gardens;

and hostas, heucheras, alliums and bluebells are some of the plants that line these borders. We thin out the profuse alliums every year.

This afternoon we voted at the local County Council elections where we were informed that the turnout was looking like 20-30%, which was about average. I ask you.

This took place at Milford on Sea church hall. Jackie then drove us to the clifftop where

we thought the pink thrift, despite the gloom of the day, was looking quite colourful against the grey water reflecting the slate sky.

A small pigeon had come to contemplate the calm sea,

and a few walkers wandered along the beach below.

The caged structure to our left of the pigeon is intended to keep the public away from the crumbling cliff edge.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla in Lymington. The welcome, the service, and the food, were as good as ever. My choice was lamb dansak with special fried rice; Jackie’s was prawn and mushroom biriani; we shared a plain naan, and both drank Kingfisher.

Looking Up

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This afternoon I printed a batch of photographs for Louisa and one in duplicate for Ian.

All these images have appeared on previous posts, but that for Ian, of his father,Peter, and stepmother, Ally, has been cropped from a group photo from 1st June last year.

The sky had cleared somewhat by then, and I wandered around the garden with my camera.

The mist had liquified forming entrancing pendants on rose hips

and stems. This one on its finely spun silver chain would grace any elegant neck (I particularly recommend two clicks on this one).

The gazebo was now fully draped by the flowering clematis Cirrhosa Balearica.

Nothing stirred the fine fringes of the weeping birch.

Looking up at these drew my attention to the well-fed plump watching pigeon in the skeletal beech.

This evening we dined on minced beef pie, sauteed peppers and mushrooms, and boiled greens, carrots, and potatoes; followed by bread and Benecol pudding and evap. I drank more of the madiran.