Tag: robin

Raising Robin’s Interest

At lunchtime Martin showed us the completed raised bed he finished this morning. He has concreted in the galvanised pins, put additional brackets on the corners, sifted and replaced some of the removed soil, and saved the plants that have been dug up.

These primroses may go back in, with a number of bulbs.

The activity aroused the interest of a pair of robins.

We have now agreed that Martin will help us on a regular basis.

This afternoon I published https://derrickjknight.com/2022/02/03/a-knights-tale-98-1987-part-one/

On another decidedly dingy afternoon we visited Elizabeth who hasn’t been too well.

The sheep field opposite her home in Burnt House Lane, Pilley was well stocked.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome liver and bacon casserole; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Douro.

Last Hours Of The Day

While the overnight gale continued to rant, rave, and spatter our windows we spent the morning continuing the decluttering prompted by our domestic refurbishment. I made considerable headway in dispensing with decades of paperwork.

Late this afternoon, when the wind and the rain desisted, we rewarded ourselves with a forest drive.

At the corner of Brock Hill Car Park serving the Rhinefield ornamental drive a victim of the recent winds, ripped from its rooting place and tossed onto picnic tables lay ready to join

others having earlier suffered similar fates to return to the soil from which they sprang.

A bitter wind made the temperature feel colder than the 3 degrees Centigrade that was recorded. The walkers lending scale to the giant redwoods around them were wrapped up well.

We have learned that robins abandon gardens for the forest during winter. They were much in evidence. This one dropped onto a fungus-bearing post.

From Rhinefield we progressed to pass Burley Manor where two groups of walkers caught the last of the sunlight as they crossed the lawn and its dying trees.

The skies were adopting gentle pastel shades, which strengthened by the time we reached

Picket Post, blessed with Jesus beams on the approach to sunset, more apparent across the moors alongside

Holmsley Passage.

This evening we dined on moist roast lamb; boiled new potatoes and the sweet variety roasted with parsnips; firm broccoli; tasty red cabbage; and tender runner beans; with mint sauce and meaty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden while I drank Duck Point Merlot 2019.

Presents From A Lifetime

For lunch, we visited Elizabeth, Jacqueline. and Frances, at our younger sister’s home in Pilley and naturally continued reminiscing for most of the afternoon.

Later, I scanned or photographed the last of the presents that Mum had labelled for us.

Jackie photographed this Heal’s battery operated carriage clock which I must have bought for our mother more than 40 years ago. My post, “Lymington Quay” details how I managed to persuade Martin Fairhurst of Dials Antique Clocks to repair it 6 years ago.

It was nearer 50 years ago that I gave her these four bird paintings by, as far as I can decipher the signatures, P. Colbert. Each is individually titled in the gallery.

This hollyhock photograph I produced in September 1981.

The cloisonné vase and ceramic basket are from many years ago; the salt and pepper cruets perhaps 20; and the china cup a gift from Jackie more recently.

Destined for Becky are this photograph by Noel Manchee of me running the Windsor Great Park half marathon in 1983;

and this painting she herself made on silk of one of the five stained glass panels from the porch in Lindum House sometime in the 1990s.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabiata with tender green beans, peppers and onions. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2019.

Soggy

Although the skies were to brighten later, when we drove into the forest this morning light flakes of fluffy snow had already evaporated to integrate with liquid precipitation.

Jackie parked the Modus at Crockford Clump and I squelched across

waterlogged moorland and clambered over undulating slopes the basins of which became their own

reflecting, rippling, reservoirs refilled by pattering raindrops dripping from twigs above into the otherwise silent streams below.

Lichen layered arboreal limbs lay shattered among soggy autumn leaves; a perky robin roamed from tree to tree.

A friendly woman walking her dogs told me about the snow and a herd of deer she had seen earlier. Paddy, one of her dogs, lolloped over to me in search of treats and took no for an answer.

Ponies occupied the tarmac at East Boldre whilst communing with a couple of field horses.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s lemon chicken and savoury rice with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cotes du Rhone.

Clear Water

Pink sky streaks sent me out in the bright, chill, morning with my camera,

and perhaps led me to the hues of gladiolus, Dr Ruppel, Mamma Mia, Lady Emma Hamilton, this particular climbing rose, pelargonium, and carpet rose.

High up in the copper beech I think it was a blackbird serenading.

We took an early drive into the forest, and, enabling me to wander around the banks of Ibsley Water, Jackie parked her modus near the ford.

Angled sunlight cast long reflections on the rippling surface and penetrated the clear water to the shingle bed.

The gnarled oaks beneath Rockford Sand Pit have almost shed their foliate canopies.

While Jackie sat in the car an inquisitive jackdaw eavesdropped on her

animated conversation with a friendly robin. Our red-breasted friends do seem to be lingering in the woodlands.

Elizabeth visited us this evening and stayed for dinner which consisted of Jackie’s wholesome shepherd’s pie; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and cauliflower, with meaty gravy, followed by apple and gooseberry crumble and custard. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and my sister and I drank Adam Mason South African Merlot 2019.

All My Ducks In A Row

On a bright, fresh, and crisp morning we took a drive into the forest. Slanting sunshine set the thawing frost glistening and lengthened shadows.

We tried a visit to Tanner’s Lane. This meant driving between rows of parked vehicles with no turning space. I walked while Jackie turned back.

We had imagined this little hidden beach would be safe enough. No such luck.

This was the only group keeping some distance from others on the sand and shingle.

There were other dogs, one in the water with three hardy humans.

I was not inclined to linger.

We continued to Sowley Lane where I was next decanted.

Some oak leaves dallied on gnarled limbs; others, grounded, glistened with dew drops; holly prickles had broken one’s fall.

Two men in a boat discussed their best fishing spot.

We stopped for a look at Buckler’s Hard,

where a robin drew our attention to the parking restrictions.

As we passed Beaulieu Mill Pond I spotted a pair of long necked log peacocks on the far bank.

Jackie parked and I walked back past the border of reeds to photograph them.

On the way there I managed to get all my ducks in a row.

Down a bank along Lymington Road a solitary donkey enjoyed a breakfast of spiky thistles.

Ponies preferred grass

or languorous cogitation of the thawing frost in the hazy sunshine.

In her Modus Jackie aroused the attention of an inquisitive field horse which she photographed along with

golden silver birches and glistening white terrain.

This evening we dined on Mr Chan’s Hordle Chinese Take Away’s fine fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Coonawarra which involved opening another bottle.

The Anguished Cockerel

How do you amuse yourself and gain relief of tension while listening to bank muzak while holding on for 75 minutes waiting for an “adviser” to sort out a problem?

You spend the time patiently reading and commenting on blogs you follow and, when you need a pee you ask your wife to put the phone to her ear while you take a break.

What do you do when you are sent a “smart” form to complete to get the bank to do what they should have done three months ago and failed, resulting in regular scam payments having been stolen from your account, and when you reach the end of what wasn’t exactly the straightforward process you were given to understand you are required to complete a puzzle to prove you are not a robot that does not make itself clear?

You blow a gasket, you scream with frustration, rave, swear, stamp, and chuck things about, until you try something that miraculously works.

Then you go out for a Chauffeuse-driven ride in the forest.

We began with a visit to Ferndene Farm Shop where Jackie enjoyed a smooth shopping trip without delay, and I watched a robin while wondering whether we would see ours again.

Our next stop was Elizabeth’s where we admired her recent tree work which has really opened up the front of her property affording a view across fields opposite.

On the verges of Pilley Street the constant clanging of a nearby cattle grid left a group of fly-ignoring, cud-chewing, cattle completely unperturbed.

Had the cockerel across the road been equipped with a tail, that appendage would surely have stretched between its legs as, after proudly strutting under a gate, it dashed squawking and clucking back out and off up the road.

I have photographed this building before, hoping to preserve its memory before it falls down. A very elderly gentleman is sometimes seen seated on the plastic chair or leaning on a gate. Did the anguished cockerel play any part in the egg production, I wonder?

This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent beef pie; boiled new potatoes; crisp cauliflower; crunchy carrots; tender runner beans; and meaty gravy with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Syrah.

The Same Sun

Early this morning Jackie found a robin flapping about in the utility room. She opened the window for him. Was it Nugget? Later she conversed in the garden with a juvenile.

While the Head Gardener completed the strengthening the compost bin that I had begun a few days ago, I carried out some dead heading before and after lunch.

Bees continued to work over the verbena bonariensis and other plants such as calendula.

Autumn crocuses are now standing proud.

In the Rose Garden Mum in a Million has reached maturity; Flower Power is as strong as ever; and Aloha greets us again;

and the Kent carpet is a wrap.

Casting a shadow was sunbathing Geranium Rozanne,

while the same sun in the early evening backlit the last hollyhock we passed on the way to taking our drinks in the rose garden.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent liver and bacon casserole; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy cauliflower and broccoli; and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Fleurie.

Summer Holidays In The Woods

In an effort to avoid the holiday traffic and the intensely hot sapping humidity of the day we set off for a forest drive at 8 a.m.

Beside Ober Water which passes under Rhinefield Road ponies quietly grazed, cattle strode purposefully, cyclists and cars sped along;

sunshine dappled the woodland, reflecting trees and skies on the surface of shallow, bubbling, water

from which a splashing, excited, dog time and again retrieved a soggy tossed tennis ball.

Three different shoes and a rather useful looking pan had all been abandoned on the banks;

as they swooped from tree to tree and hunted among the roots I witnessed ample evidence that robins spend their summer holidays in the woods.

Cattle drank from the stream.

Early bracket fungus stepped up trunks further along Rhinefield Road;

bracken pierced the shadows along Mill Lane

where walkers and dogs were beginning to wander.

On Bisterne Close an inquisitive foal left its mother’s flanks in order to investigate the warm bonnet of our Modus. It took a loud application of a certain amount of vroom to shift the mohican-coiffed youngster.

Purple heather, such as this beside Holmsley Passage among which a lone walker tramps is brightening daily.

As usual, clicking on any image will access its gallery, individual members of which can be viewed full size and further enlarged if required.

Even when entering the garden for a watering session we were hit by a blast furnace, and the library dehumidifier required emptying twice today, when normally once every two days may suffice.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious liver and bacon casserole; creamy mashed potatoes, crunchy carrots; and tender green beans with which I drank Carles Priorat 2016, and the Culinary Queen abstained.

Moulting

We spent the hot summer’s cloudless day gardening; well, Jackie spent the day at it while I chipped in intermittently.

Jackie took advantage of what shade she could.

In addition to dead bloom decapitation and carting clippings to compost bins I produced some photographs.

The blooms and garden views in this gallery can be identified and enlarged in the usual manner.

The same applies to these images of bees clambering on verbena bonariensis and delving into a hosta; and to the comma butterfly.

In the first picture above Jackie is conversing with the moulting Nugget, looking every inch the butterball that Jill Weatherholt dubbed him on his last appearance. Our concern at the scraggy condition of our little avian familiar has diminished now the we have learned he is undergoing a normal summer process. The last, smallest, of these images is “Where’s Nugget?” (92). Bigification may be required.

This evening we dined on the Culinary Queen’s wholesome watercress soup with bread and butter, followed by tempura prawns and fresh salad, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I opened another bottle of the Rioja and consumed some of it.