snowdrops – Page 5 – derrickjknight

Panic-Engendering Chaos

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This morning I took advantage of a brief window of sunshine in an otherwise slate grey day

to discover in the garden daffodils, hellebores, crocuses, cyclamens, snowdrops, and camellia buds all bursting through.

After lunch, Jackie drove me to Sears Barbers in Milford on Sea, where I had my hair cut. The barber wound me up with the question; “Short back and sides?”. He knew what my answer would be. I only had to smile. He just gave me a much-needed trim.

On our way home we had a look at the sea, which was very choppy. There was a strong, mild, wind, stirring it up. Jackie likened the misty Isle of Wight to a body being towed over to France by the red-eyed sea monster lighthouse and The Needles.

As I sat down to draft this post I placed a pint glass full of fizzy lime squash on a fountain pen. This is not exactly the most stable surface. It would have been quite useful in a logrolling competition. The consequences were far reaching. And rapid. My pad of blotting paper produced a number of colourful Rorschach results; bubbling liquid raced across the desk, under the printer and under the computer, and swirled around smaller objects like a box of paper clips. The waves above would have been proud of the panic-engendering chaos. A dry cloth was useless. I used half a kitchen roll mopping up, and Jackie had to hold up the printer while I swabbed underneath it.. At least everything is clean now. And still works.

This evening we dined at The Family House, Chinese restaurant in Totton. It has been 18 months since we were last there, but our welcome was as friendly as ever. We chose our customary M3 set meal which was as good as usual, and both drank Tsingtao beer, which was remembered.

Home Delivery

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This morning I checked with Owen the chimney sweep that the 20″ swan’s nest baskets available at Gordleton Barn would not be too wide for our chimney, and that Streets ironmongers in Brockenhurst could supply smaller ones if necessary. Jackie and I therefore made a further visit to the barn. Unfortunately Richard’s offerings were too deep.

In order not to have a wasted journey I photographed the hub of the cartwheel that decorates the front of the shop.

In the muddy field alongside Hordle Lane on our way out, my driver, who has eyes everywhere, spotted a group of cock pheasants engaged in a stag party.

This particular farmer is not rambler friendly, but at least he has attached a warning notice to a newly erected electric fence. That is the yellow blob in the foreground above.

From Gordleton, we proceeded to Brockenhurst and Streets, Jackie’s favourite kind of shop. (Yes, that is our car in need of a wash, but it will only become filthy again on one trip around the wet, salted, roads.)

The windows, alone, are most enticing.

There we bought an iron grate of the correct size, and ordered a house name sign.

The burnt gorse and waterlogged terrain near Sway offered yet another scene that would have inspired Paul Nash’s war paintings.

At Flexford, the Avon tributary that flows through the grounds of Gordleton Mill was overflowing so as to provide snowdrops with more liquid refreshment than they would probably have liked.

The stream rushed over and around the banks, swirling around trees and shrubs, and even threatening to bath the horse on higher ground. Fresh green catkins were suspended safely out of reach of the spate.

Sheep on a hillside seemed to be out of harm’s way.

I was rash enough to leave my Canon SX700 HS in the car. Jackie therefore amused herself by taking photographs of me photographing the scene,

and speaking to a woman whose job it was to look after the horses. She carried what I took to be a sack of feed. She confirmed that the river was much higher than usual, and that the land was considerably waterlogged.

Wondering what the Isle of Wight might look like in this rainy weather, we diverted to the coast before returning home. The island was invisible, but the horizon on the edge of the fields presented interesting layers of mist.

Our route up Downton Lane was temporarily blocked by the delivery of two mobile homes to Shorefield Caravan Park. This convoy of very long container trucks was led by a brightly lit escort.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s chicken jalfrezi of which many an Indian chef would be proud; her flavoursome pilau rice with added egg and mushrooms; and vegetable samosas. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Chateau Les Croisille Cahors 2011. This smooth. full bodied, wine was a gift from Shelly and Ron.

More Printing

This morning I filled two more cuttings bags, and this afternoon we took them to the dump. This time, the Head Gardener only liberated a trio of terra cotta containers from a wine rack.

I spent much of the day printing and exchanging e-mails with Paul about the exhibition. The final batch of 50 completed my tally of 250 flyers.

Paul Clarke has put as much meticulous effort and skill into the hanging and display of the exhibition at The First Gallery as he did with the design of the flyers. He has made quite specific size suggestions for prints with which to adorn the walls, ranging from A2 to A6. As I Can only go to A3+ on my printer, I will need to investigate the cost of commercial printing for the one A2.

Here are some of the offerings I have sent:

This was the view through the red Japanese maple on 21st April 2014.

I made a very small crop of this gladiolus in order to position the burrowing fly;

on 14th September 2014, just a week before that one, another alighted on a colchicum.

Two days later this bee settled on an eryngium planum;

another made for this libertia on 18th May last year.

On 25th February 2015 snowdrops were in abundance.

This Red Admiral butterfly cast an intriguing shadow on 21st November 2013.

Finally, here is a tulip from 14th April 2015.

For this evening’s dinner Jackie produced perfectly baked ham, moist ratatouille, creamy mashed potato, and crisp brussels sprouts; followed by sticky toffee and ginger pudding and custard. I drank Louis Virion Costiers de Nimes 2014, and the Cook drank lemon squash.

Spring In Sight

Today began our first serious joint preparation for 2016 garden work.

This view of the Heligan Path shows early spring flowers sharing billets with hellebores.

Wherever we look there are snowdrops in profusion; many different daffodils;

a variety of crocuses;

and even a proud pink hyacinth.

Taking the occasional rest on the Heligan Path bench,

The Head Gardener continued last autumn’s work on the Palm Bed,

in particular, pruning the ornamental grass. Two of the camellias, hung with floral decorations, can be seen in the background of the first of these two pictures.

My contribution was to cut this grass,

pick up some of winter’s fallen branches, and help Jackie load some of the griselinia hedge cuttings into the car. The heap of these stretches the length of the back drive. We have decided the best disposal method is to bag them up in the large canvas gravel containers and cart them to Efford Recycling Centre. My lady had filled two bags. We took them away, one per trip. Naturally we returned with a large terra cotta plant pot.

Mr Pink’s fish and chips, for our meal this evening, was supplemented by Mrs Garner’s pickled onions; Mr Lidl’s Freshona pickled cornichons; and, in Jackie’s case, Hoegaarden, and in mine, more of the madiran.

Bricks In The Hopper

As our garden awakens, hellebores, snowdrops, ferns, and heucheras stretch their limbs and jostle for position.

Some hellebores, petals perhaps frost-bitten, raise their heads,

possibly having been alarmed by our jackdaws jousting over the rooftop chimneys,

What was once a maple on the grass had been cut back by our predecessors. Although we have some new shoots the stump now bears some fascinating fungus. We hope that is not a sign of the tree’s imminent demise.

During the recent heavy rain, a hopper at the front of the house overflowed. Today I decided to investigate the blockage. The device contained a couple of pieces of brick that seemed to serve no purpose except partially to block the down pipe. I removed these items and Jackie filled a bath upstairs and let it flow into the pipe. All seemed to be running smoothly. Unfortunately Jackie had lifted the manhole cover to the septic tank.

This system, for homes not on national mains drainage, operates via sections of piping across the garden. There are three such covers. When we had our houseful at Christmas, we had experienced some overload in the waste pipes, creating an unsavoury heap in this first access point. Buckets of water, we thought, had solved the problem.

The residue in that pit, now solidified, resembled sand formations in the Arizona Desert,

which is why, having broken it up with a metal post, kicked up a stink, and begun to apply further buckets of water filled by Jackie,

I decided it was more sensitive to refrain from photographing the site until it was cleared. It had been necessary to pour the water down at speed, which incurred a certain amount of splash-back, best nimbly avoided.

The bucket drill was applied to each of the other access points, in order to ensure that the coagulated substance had been coaxed along the pipes. If that hasn’t cured the problem we will call in the experts.

This evening we dined once more on Jackie’s superb, well-matured, liver and bacon dish, served with mashed potato and swede, carrots and green beans. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Louis Virion Costieres de Nimes 2014.

After dinner, I watched the highlights of England’s earlier rugby match against Italy.

Farewell To Westminster

Storm Imogen appears to have slunk away today, which was calm and sunny, brightening our

daffodils,

snowdrops,

crocuses,

and camellias.

Another strip of colour negatives from April 1986 in a brown window envelope in the rediscovered collection were clearly not taken by me, but by staff members on my last day as Westminster Social Services Area 1 manager as I prepared to continue my working life in a freelance capacity. I scanned them and placed them in my negative files.

Here I stand in my office in the former Victorian Paddington town hall,

and here I am signing a few documents. Through the window behind me can be seen the old St Mary’s Hospital, which like the town hall has been largely demolished and converted to Housing Association dwellings.

I doubt that any Social Services Departments can today afford the luxury of spacious accommodation for all staff, such as the splendid manager’s office, on the walls of which I was able to hang many family photographs,

Louisa came to see where I had been working. We stand in front of portraits of, clockwise from top left, Michael, Sam, Louisa, Auntie Gwen, Matthew, Dad, and Jessica. I think it was Becky obscured by her sister’s head. The other two are of me running in a marathon and a twenty mile race.

This brought to an end twelve enjoyable, if very difficult, years in post.

Jackie fed us this evening with her delicious chicken tikka; vegetable pakoras and samosas; colourful savoury rice brought back from our recent visit to Dynasty in Brockenhurst; and salad. The red splurges on my helping are Dorset Naga Chilli and Smoked Garlic Jam, spicing it up. The Cook drank Hoegaarden and I drank Kingfisher.

A Footpath, A Carpet, And An Oak

This morning I encased my right knee in a crepe bandage and hobbled along Hordle Lane to the footpath alongside Apple Court Garden and back.

Now the leg has toothache. That’s it. My rambling will be done in my head until further notice.

The ditches are now pretty full, and pools still lie on the fields, although the tarmac no longer carries water.

As you walk along almost any lane in this area between the sea and the New Forest, each step provides a different view of the landscape. I have shown before how the wind sweeping across it tends to shape the direction of trees, particularly those in open spaces. The bent oak in the next three photographs demonstrates this point.

A thick pile white and green carpet lines the roadside alongside Apple Court Garden. Upon closer examination you discover that the woven woollen strands that form this covering are aptly named snowdrops threaded through the mulch of the undergrowth.

The footpath between the nursery and the neighbouring garden, with its greenhouse and birches, was rather waterlogged.

Jackie produced two different rice dishes, each of which was a meal in itself, for our dinner this evening. These were special fried, and mushroom versions. They were, however, accompanied by a rack of pork ribs marinaded in barbecue sauce, and followed by syrup sponge and custard. My lady drank Hoegaarden and i continued with the Bordeaux.

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.

I Couldn’t Shoot The Pheasant

This is today’s second post, because I jumped the gun and fired off the first too early.

In order to clear the area for Aaron to finish his work on the back drive, I had a bonfire this afternoon. At one point, walking back to the house, past snowdrops, hellebores, and other early flowers, a sudden raucous squawk and ungainly flapping sound alerted me to the cumbersome upward ascent of a brightly coloured male pheasant that had emerged from the ground beneath the bird feeders near the kitchen window. Because my camera was sealed up in my working trousers pocket, I was unable to get in a shot of this unusual visitor.

Fortunately there was enough of Jackie’s superb lamb jalfrezi meal from two days ago for us to have some more this evening. This time we finished the Isla Negra together.

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.