Small White butterflies – derrickjknight

Logistical Problems

Garden maintenance – mostly clearing up and dead heading – began early this morning for us both.

No doubt attracted by the redolent scent of roses released by the warm sunshine, bees buzzed and butterflies flittered around me as I wielded the secateurs.

Bees and Red Admirals both tried the fading Festive Jewel;

both also favoured verbena bonariensis,

as did Comma and Small White butterflies.

Worker bees were mostly partial to Summer Wine.

A little later we drove to Milford Pharmacy for a repeat prescription; to Tesco for E10 unleaded petrol; to Ferndene Farm shop for three bags of compost and various vegetables; and to the forest for a preprandial drive.

Heather beamed bright on the verges of Burley Road, while

a group of ponies were already sheltering under the trees at the corner of Burley Lawn, doing their best to switch off each other’s flies, by the head to tail method.

This presented some logistical problems arising from a certain size difference.

Later this afternoon I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/09/03/a-knights-tale-26-town-halls-trams-and-trolley-buses/

This evening we dined on oven fish and chips, onion rings, and peas, with which Jackie finished the Pinot Grigio and I drank more of the Comte Tolosan Rouge.

Frenetically Flittering

With overnight winds having ripped a stem from the Wedding Day rose, yet spared the clematis on the Agriframes arch,

Jackie was out early this morning laying down garden furniture once more, and picking up smashed pots and broken stems. Gale force winds continued throughout the day.

Undeterred, she set about refurbishing the Head Gardener’s Rest, and photographing the process.

First going;

then gone;

then rebuilding;

and finally, completed;

after which, basking in the sunshine, she toasted it.

My still photographs show neither the waving branches in

the front garden,

higher roses such as Compassion and Penny Lane,

nor the Weeping Birch swaying above its eponymous Bed including the proliferating Crinum Powellii.

Some begonias are sheltered enough to remain unscathed.

Even the frenetically flittering Small White butterflies were forced to take rests

on swaying Verbenas bonariensis

and the last remaining bloom on this geranium.

The Veronicastrum Virginicum Album was displaying signs of osteoporosis, but For Your Eyes Only seemed to find enough shelter in the Rose Garden.

Later this afternoon I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/08/06/a-knights-tale-11-a-pack-of-ravening-wolves/

This evening we dined on cod, chips, and peas with which Jackie drank more of the Cotes de Provence rosé and I drank more of the Fleurie.

Is It Really Autumn?

We began early this morning watering, dead heading, clearing debris and adding to the compost bins before attending Milford on Sea GP Surgery for flu jab appointments. A large number of patients were vaccinated smoothly at one minute intervals. We queued 2 metres apart for no time at all and were directed to our colour-coded injection chamber. All was extremely efficient except for the jam of jabbed individuals swapping details of their experience and other age-related ailments causing something of a bottle-neck at the rear exit. This was a bit of a slalom with no opportunity for the correct social distancing; however, everyone wore masks, and we were back in the car after five minutes, giving us time for a brief drive in our rather Saturday-crowded environment.

Seasonal confusion was first evidenced in our own garden with windburn to Japanese maples and Summer Wine pouring down the entrance arch to the Rose Garden. More was displayed in

Sandy Down with pink roses,

rhododendrons,

and cyclamen lining the verges; and

the leaves of a silver birch beginning to display the Midas touch.

This afternoon after some more chopping and composting of refuse I wandered around the garden with my camera.

Dahlias and begonias, some sharing beds, are in no doubt that it is their season.

Nasturtiums, gauras, and diascias are still going strong.

Small White butterflies and hard working bees are not conceding that their time is over.

Clematises, like this lost label purple one and Dr Ruppel, sharing the Gothic arch with red Super Elfin and pale pink Penny Lane roses, linger on,

as does a rather ragged Shropshire Lad, swaying in the Rose Garden to

a white symphony of begonias, nicotiana sylvestris, and Hawkshead fuchsias.

The eucalyptus still suspends filled hanging baskets flanked by pelargoniums and rudbeckias. Is it really autumn?

This evening we dined on poached smoked haddock; Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; firm carrots; and tender runner beans, with which we both drank Awatere Valley Sauvignon Blanc 2019 – a crisp, aromatic, white wine from New Zealand.

Bees And Other Insects

On the afternoon of this decidedly sultry summer’s day I cleared up the Head Gardener’s debris from the morning, then followed insects around with my camera.

Small White butterflies sought camouflage among Erigeron and rented verbena bonariensis accommodation from

bees and flies

which tested the strength of the Erigeron.

A bluebottle clung to hebe leaves.

This busy bee made safe landing in a bristly borage;

bidens attracted others;

further examples flitted in the Palm Bed from Rozanne geraniums to purple alliums, while in Margery’s Bed

more explored hollyhocks.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2019.

The Early Evening Light

This morning I completed my mega filing task while Jackie carried out more planting under the watchful eye of Nugget

with whom she happily conversed. “Where’s Nugget?” (25).

Beside the Weeping Birch Bed with its kniphofias, petunias, heleniums, and pelargoniums.

The yellow kniphofia is Popsicle Mango; the terracotta one has attracted a wasp.

Small White butterflies and bees still cluster around the verbena bonariensises.

continue to thrive.

Autumn crocuses have arrived.

The Rose Garden, the Palm Bed, and the Oval Bed glow with aureate colour;

spiders have spun fine chains for golden seeds;

Virginia creeper is beginning to take on a ruby hue,

with which penstemons are trimmed.

Early this warm and sunny evening we took a drive into the forest.

I disembarked from the car on the road between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu.

I walked along a gravelled path and over the dry terrain,

the sweeping sounds of my sandals answering those of the jaws of the ponies cropping the grass they shared with a few cattle joining them on their way in from the verges.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away’s usual fine fare with which Jackie drank Blue Moon and I drank sparkling water.

The Watchers On The Shore

Today’s weather was once more clear, bright, sunny, and cooler.

Bees continued collecting nectar throughout the garden. On my walk around I captured them on bidens, and on the more mature blooms of Festive Jewel.

Crisp young examples of the latter await their turn at contributing to the queen’s larder.

Tomatoes continue to ripen in readiness for ours.

It is a good thing I was not using film in my attempts to catch the myriad of fluttering snowflakes in the form of Small White butterflies while they swirled through the air. I settled for those landing on a poppy head and on a verbena bonarensis. Another took pity on me and perched on a petunia.

Orange crocosmia Emily Mckenzie brightens the Dead End Path and pink sweet peas dance in the Weeping Birch Bed.

Our Bishop of Llandaff in the New Bed was eaten by a vole a couple of years ago. Its deeper red companion has survived.

Another plant that has proved impossible to grow in the various beds tried by the Head Gardener is the gaura. This one is thriving in a pot.

Lady Emma Hamilton produces multiple flushes.

Rows of small begonias sparkle on the borders of beds like these alongside the Heligan Path.

Nugget darted in and out nearby. I am beginning to wonder whether he associates the click of the camera with the clink of a trowel.

One of the pictures above should provide a clue to today’s “Where’s Nugget?” (9)

Late this afternoon we took drive into the forest.

The only sign of life on Hatchet Pond was this pair of swans.

The others must have heard that members of an excited family were feeding the birds beside the nearby Beaulieu River.

Kite surfers and sailboarders struggled on the Solent at the end of Tanners Lane, where they were watched by a young man on the shore. I suppose I made it two watchers so I could legitimately borrow the title of Stan Barstow’s novel.

This evening we dined on Lidl’s rack of pork spare ribs in barbecue sauce; the Culinary Queen’s flavoursome mushroom rice; and the Head Gardener’s tender runner beans, with which Jackie drank Belgium’s Hoegaarden and I finished Tesco’s finest Chilean Malbec.

A Burst Of Summer

Mike, the Perfect Plastering and Plumbing man who came this morning to replace our leaking outside taps, not only did a very good job with them, but also turned out to be an Apple user, and gave me advice subsequently confirmed by the iMac adviser.

The news about the iPhoto disaster, like the curate’s egg, is good in parts. When the latest edition of the Yosemite operating system was installed, iPhoto was superseded by Photos. I didn’t use that because I was reluctant to change from the application with which I was familiar. However, without my realising it, all my photographic work had been automatically copied into Photos. Thereafter I had happily continued to use iPhoto, but there was no further entry to Photos. That, I should have been doing myself.

There is no way of recovering the deleted iPhoto files. The last images entered into Photos were therefore inserted on the updating day in May this year. All photographic work carried out between then and yesterday has been lost.

Thankfully, everything posted on WordPress remains on the blog, so it could have been worse.

Since the end of July I have been unable to use e-mail on the iMac. Whilst I had Apple Care on the phone, I asked Leonel, the excellent adviser, to sort that out for me. He did.

So, it wasn’t all bad.

As so often in September, we are experiencing a late burst of warm and sunny weather, called ‘an Indian summer’.

The benefits are seen in the rose garden,

where New Dawn is now blooming.

Paths, such as the Pergola one, are still surrounded by lush plants.

The air fluttered with Small White butterflies, seemingly auditioning for Alfred Hitchcock’s classic, ‘The Birds’.

A small insect, possibly an ant, clung to tiny bidens.

We have several clusters of light, almost chocolate-coloured red hot pokers.

When I had finished the lengthy phone call I helped Jackie finish bagging up the rubble left over from Aaron’s brickwork, and spreading the last bit of gravel. After lunch we transported the rubble to Efford recycling centre. As I prepared to enter the car, the Head Gardener politely sent me back inside for my wallet. Naturally, she had no wish to visit the municipal dump without investigating the sales area. We came away with two more mirrors, and two more garden chairs.

As usual yesterday’s set meal for three from Hordle Chinese Take Away provided plenty left over for our dinner tonight. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I finished the shiraz.