pulmonaria – Page 2 – derrickjknight

What’s Come Up

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Today, I wandered around the garden contemplating spring clearing, and investigating what’s come up.

There are many different primulas;

borage;

pulmonaria;

snowdrops

and hellebores galore;

daffodils such as February Gold and Têtes-à-Têtes;

crocuses;

irises;

and cyclamen.

Views across the garden reveal most of these plants, and what needs to be done. Here we stand on the Brick Path to the left of the Heligan one.

The Phantom Path runs alongside Margery’s Bed.

This is the Palm Bed;

and this the Heligan Path winding between the Cryptomeria and Weeping Birch Beds.

This afternoon Jackie lopped the branches off the Christmas tree and filled an orange bag with those and the campaniflora clematis cuttings.

Roast lamb served with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, crunchy carrots, cauliflower and green beans was Jackie’s meal this evening. I had some, too. This was followed by lemon meringue pie and cream. I drank Vacqueras cru des Côtes du Rhône 2015.

A New Fashion Print

Jackie spent most of another fine spring day working on her soil replenishment project. Can you spot her?

You certainly can now

that the sunlight has provided her with a new fashion print.

To the left of the eucalyptus can be seen one of the freshly planted mimuluses. Here is another.

The red Japanese maple stands at the bottom right of the opening picture. It is also evident in this view from the frog pond. Actually the pond is a filled cistern containing water lilies and no frogs. It acquired its name when Jackie unearthed the stone amphibians in the undergrowth.

I provided a modicum of assistance in the soil replenishment process; carted compost about; did some watering; and dug a big hole, filling it with more nutritious matter, for a lost label clematis. The benefit of such a buy is that you get much more for your money, and the fun of waiting to find the answer to more of what. Behind the plant is our insect hotel.

Different crane’s bill geraniums are coming into bloom,

as is the small convolvulus cneorum on the back drive.

The bees are still preferring the pulmonaria to anything else on offer.

Just as the morning light illuminated the start of Jackie’s final day on this particular soil transplant, the evening sun cast shadows across the finished job.

It was greenfinches, resting from feverish flitting from tree to tree, that overlooked our evening rose garden drinks; this one from the relative safety of a neighbour’s garden.

Jackie is beginning to worry that the splendid heucheras she planted as a border to the roses might overawe the main attraction.

Our dinner this evening consisted of Mr Pink’s fish and chips, and pickled gherkins and onions from jars in the cupboard, followed by Jackie’s apple and sultana crumble with cream. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the cabernet sauvignon.

Bees Beat Crab Apple Blossom

Jackie, with token assistance from me, continued with planting and watering today. I mostly rambled around, carting a few items along the paths.

We have a selection of marigolds;

ajugas, such as this one blending with pulmonaria, are popping up everywhere;

and our monstrous Spanish bluebells are thriving on the enriched soil.

Among the recent plantings along the back drive are

three different osteospermums.

My friend Julie at https://ramblingsfromjewels.wordpress.com/2016/04/30/blushing-rosy/ has displayed a fine crop of crab apple blossom. This alerted us to the fact that we are a little behind her part of USA.

Ours still look like this.

Not prepared to wait for their nectar, bees have already arrived in Downton, and restlessly search such as

humble honesty,

and little lithodora, also on the back drive.

No one plant satisfies, so the insects rapidly flit about from one to another and my lens must catch them on the wing.

This evening we dined on pork rib rack in barbecue sauce, somewhat charred because we rather overextended our drinks session in the rose garden, and Jackie’s lovely vegetable rice. I drank more of the Margaret River cabernet sauvignon and Jackie drank Hoegaarden.

Just as I was about to publish this, Matthew telephoned with a story I might like. He had watched a courier ringing the doorbell of his neighbours across the road. Several times. He thought it a bit strange that they did not answer because he knew they were in. Eventually the deliveryman asked Mat to take in the parcel, which he willingly did. When he gave it to the neighbour she said ‘Oh. That will be my new doorbell!’

When I’d finished cackling, I had to pass the phone to Jackie for him to repeat the tale.

A Lost Shadow

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Ronan the Boilerman fitted a new thermostat to our hot water cylinder tank this morning. That means we no longer scald our hands and have to turn on the cold tap every time we want to wash them.

Jackie spent much of the day weeding and planting.

Once The Head Gardener had prepared it, I covered Elizabeth’s bed with compost. It took eight bags.

The gradual burgeoning throughout the garden can be seen, for example, along the Brick Path – and, yes, Jackie has smuggled in another owl since this was las displayed –

and along Margery’s Bed, in the foreground of which a geranium palmatum has pushed its way into the light.

We have varieties of tulip,

including tulipa saxatilis lilac wonder;

daffodil;

and aquilegia.

elegant leaves stretch their fingers out from this Japanese maple.

Pulmonaria crops up everywhere,

attracting equally hirsute bees clutching petals as they suck the nectar.

Butterflies, like this Small White flitting from honesty to honesty, are also back,

as are poppies, one of which, like Peter Pan, has lost its shadow.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s choice Ferndene Farm Shop chilli pork sausage casserole, mashed potato, carrots and Brussels sprouts, followed by chocolate eclairs. The Cook drank Hoegaarden, whilst I consumed more of the madiran.

Kind Of Blue

Aaron brought a friend to help today so he could finish by lunchtime. They sawed up the wood pile, then replanted a clump of grass roots which had been removed from the back drive some weeks ago, and, despite attempts to burn it, had refused to die. I understand that the Australian eucalyptus needs the heat of a forest fire to germinate its seeds. Maybe our grass is related to that tree.

I managed to clear a space by the side of the house for the logs to be stacked before wandering around the garden with my camera.

Focussing on our profusion of blue-hued flowers, and thinking of Giles who enjoys them, I photographed:

forget-me-nots,

periwinkles,

grape hyacinths,

violets,

celandines,

and pansies.

Whilst preparing this post I listened to what is probably the finest recording of spontaneous jazz improvisation ever made. During two sessions in 1959 Miles Davis, the legendary trumpeter, led a group including Julian ‘Cannonball’ Adderly, Paul Chambers, James Cobb, John Coltrane, Bill Evans, and Wynton Kelly, in the production of the album ‘Kind of Blue’.

Evans, in his original programme notes, writes: ‘Miles conceived these settings only hours before the recording dates and arrived with sketches which indicated to the group what was to be played. Therefore you will hear something close to pure spontaneity in these performances. The group had never played these pieces prior to the recordings and I think without exception the first complete performance of each was a “take”.’

I you don’t have access to a copy, try it on YouTube.

This afternoon Flo continued her wildlife garden photography.

Unaware of my blue theme, she featured a bee on pulmonaria.

She also captured a white butterfly on the wing,

a tightrope-walking long-tailed tit,

a greenfinch on a feeding tray,

and a resting hoverfly.

She even threw in a shot of Norman’s parrot, which now hangs in our kitchen.

Finally, she persuaded Eric to pose for his portrait.

This evening we dined out on Ian.

Not literally. He just paid for it. He took us on a visit to La Viña in Lymington. It was a most enjoyable tapas bar. The food was excellent and the service extremely friendly if a little tardy. I can’t really detail the dishes because they were in Spanish, but they included a mixed paella, calamari, sardines, chorizo, asparagus, fried potatoes, meat balls and tortilla. Jackie and Ian drank Estrella beer; Becky and I shared a bottle of tempranillo; and Flo drank apple juice.

The Bees Are Out

Propped up by my walking stick, I managed to make my way through the garden and a hundred yards or so down Downton Lane this morning.

The Royal Oak pub car park had a look of spring about it.

Catkins swayed in the breeze.

A pair of doves, which we think must be the parents of the baby that died, regularly feast on suet balls in the bird feeder.

Hairy humble bees gravitated to the equally hirsute pulmonaria,

and the shy hellebores. I had to be quick to photograph this one, because it was about to vanish under the hanging head of the flower.

Sausage casserole (recipe) is far too bland a term for Jackie’s classic dish on which she fed us this evening. Mashed potato, crisp carrots and brussels sprouts accompanied the most tasty melange. The meat content of this particular culinary creation consisted of chunky chorizo sausages from Ferndene Farm Shop; smaller Lidl pork chipolatas; and slabs of lean gammon steaks from Sainsbury’s basics cooking bacon. So much did I salivate on ladling out my helping that some of my own juices slipped down my windpipe, producing a fit of coughing. Finishing the Cotes du Rhone eased this. Jackie drank sparkling water.

It may be of interest that Jackie’s version is a development of mine, which was a development of Delia Smith’s. Delia is a brilliant tutor for all the basic cooking methods. That is why I learned a great deal from her. But I soon wanted to spice her meals up a bit. And Jackie takes this a bit further.

Spring According To Susan Hill

This morning I ambled gingerly down to the Shorefield post box and back. My right knee remains sharply painful. Perhaps I am stuck with it. A few sturdy daffodils, such as this one alongside snowdrops, cyclamen, hellebores, and pulmonaria in the shady bed, swayed bravely in the strong breeze blowing through our garden. Our several varieties of camellia shrubs are now quite full of blooms. Primulas and celandines adorned the hedgerows on Downton Lane. Stick-insect-like Lichen clinging to budding branches, and golden gorse glowed above them. Susan Hill’s ‘yellow season’ is arriving.

At the other end of the day heavy rainclouds over the garden were given a peachy tinge by the setting sun. I was showered by peach juice whilst shooting the scene.

I am becoming addicted to antiques programmes on daytime TV. Is this the thin end of the wedge?

This evening’s dinner was Jackie’s flavoursome cottage pie with crisp cabbage and carrots, followed by custard tart. She drank Hoegaarden and I imbibed Chateau Clos Renon Bordeaux superieur 2012.

The Garden Wakes

This morning I continued work on clearing the front garden. This involved digging up more brambles and beginning to reveal the rest of the gravel path. Hellebores and snowdrops have also come into view.

During the trips up and down to the back drive compost and combustible collections, I enjoyed noticing additions to our spring floral display. We have the ubiquitous hellebores, the drifts of snowdrops, the clusters of cyclamen, and camellias in abundance.

Pollen is already being collected from crocuses, and the initially pink flowers of the hairy-stemmed pulmonaria have turned their rose-tinted deep blue.

The stone head gardener’s path, which did not exist last year, enjoyed the intermittent sunshine, and even some of the hellebores have lifted their faces towards its warm rays.

This afternoon we took a heap of scrap metal from the garden to the Efford Recycling Centre. Some time ago our plastic mop bucket shattered into splintered shards. In keeping with the family tradition of never returning from the municipal dump with an empty boot , therefore, Jackie bought a galvanised replacement for £2.

In deciding to obtain this evening’s fish and chips from the old fashioned Mr. Pink’s shop in Milford on Sea, Jackie discovered quite the best outlet in the area. The crisp, non greasy, batter covering the fresh haddock, and the glorious golden chips were as flavoursome as they were attractive to the eye. The portions were generous, and the meals were cooked before my lady’s very eyes. We provided our own obligatory mushy peas and pickled onions, and both drank Isla Negra sauvignon blanc 2014.