sunset – Page 10 – derrickjknight

Save Our Stream

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Feeling considerably brighter today, I began by tackling two weeks administration. This involved settling bills, correspondence, and collecting a delivery that required a signature.

Jackie drove us to Lymington to retrieve the package from the sorting office. Almost across the other side of the High Street is situated Peacock Computer Systems where we took my HP laptop for a diagnosis. The charger has been plugged in but the device doesn’t charge up. The diagnosis is that it needs a battery transplant and is on the waiting list for a replacement.

After this we travelled back to Old Milton where we purchased a new dehumidifier to replace the old one which was crying in pain. It seemed sensible to detach it from its power source and buy an new one. We found one in The Home Appliance Centre, took it home, and went on a drive round the forest, where,

the sun-streaked tarmac came hurtling towards us as Jackie drove between the trees.

There are many streams in the forest. The one that demanded my attention today was at Furze Hill near Fordingbridge.

The dappled sunlight increased its beauty;

the clear blue sky rippled in the breeze-stirred shallows;

the browns of pebbles and bed of the stream discoloured the impression of the clear water above them,

blending with reflections of sky and greenery to produce pleasing abstract paintings.

We have had such a dry year that the water was quite shallow,

yet the scene was quite magical.

Sometimes serendipity plays a part in a blog post. So it was today. I had not realised the significance of this one of all the streams in the forest, until, further along the road, we came across this sign:

Naturally I had to investigate. A barking dog alerted the people who lived behind the poster to my presence. There ensued a conversation about a five year battle by http://friendsoflatchmore.org to prevent the filling in of a large stretch of land above Latchmore Brook. Apparently this will change the course of the water and cover an important archeological site. Otters which frequent the local stream will, it is believed, be driven away by pollution.

The views of these who wish to carry out the infill may be found at http://www.hlsnewforest.org.uk/info/100/latchmore

We drove on to Latchmore and eventually lunched at the Hyde-Out cafe at Hyde, before a gentle trundle home. Many people were eating outside. At one point, a little boy aged about six made an impressive entrance and demanded: “Where’s the cake?”.

Before dinner, despite the paucity of clouds, we drove down to Barton on Sea to admire the pastel shades of the skyline at sunset.

The moon and walkers aided this composition.

We then dined on fish fingers, chips, and baked beans, followed by ice cream. Good nursery convalescence food.

A Trio Of Flamenco Dresses

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Watering and dead heading were the orders of the garden today. For the first time, I availed myself of

the Head Gardener’s dead heading trolley. This is basically an adapted IKEA sack barrow. The slot for secateurs has been obscured by the contents of the bucket of dead blooms. Scissors, weed- and slug-killers, stand in the top tray, so as to be readily available should the need arise.

I have selected various shades of pink to feature today. First we have the antique hue of kniphofia

blending well with this latticed candle holder.

White Japanese anemones featured yesterday, but we also have many pink ones;

similarly white gaura have featured before, but we also have other hues.

Phlox also comes in other pigments. Here is a pink one.

The spotlit trio of flamenco dresses are in fact begonias.

We finished our Chinese Takeaway this evening, and both drank sparkling water.

Finally there was a fair amount of pink in the sky at sunset.

A Dust Bath

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This is the second of my 7 day nature series on Facebook.

It appeared originally in https://derrickjknight.com/2014/04/29/a-fascinating-collage/

When we paid for Country Girl last week, Jackie also bought one of her favoured wrought iron candle holders for use as a planter. It has a screw fitted to adjust the height.

Today, I moved it to the gravelled concrete at the southern end of the garden. This involved moving a pile of bricks from where it now stands, and raking gravel to cover that corner. I had to evict a large number of woodlice, slugs, and, one snail.

Jackie had moved a few of the bricks earlier. Feeling the heat she must have removed her jumper, and slung it over the nearest available hanger, thus providing the Country Girl, now dubbed Florence, with a purple hair extension

The white climber is now making its way up the Agriframes Arch straddling the Brick Path.

The clump of geranium palmatums halfway down that shot draws bees so large that they weigh down the petals to which they cling whilst plundering the nectar.

Those plants are at the corner of the Dead End Path, alongside which a large philadelphus is in bloom.

Other plants attracting bees include poppies (this one also has a beetle)

and linaria.

Bees have shaken off so much pollen in the poppy that much smaller insects avail themselves of the bowl for a dust bath.

What, now, is this nosey creature entering the foxglove?

It’s a mosquito making a bee seem comparatively harmless.

My afternoon tasks including gathering up The Head Gardener’s weeding and clippings, and dead-heading roses, mostly in the Rose Garden where a few clematises like this

Hagley’s Hybrid have been incorporated for variety.

For our dinner this evening Jackie produced a stupendous beef stew with new potatoes. So tasty was this that when offered a choice of more stew, sticky toffee pudding, or more stew and sticky toffee pudding, I opted for more stew. That way, I reasoned, I could eat more. Jackie drank Peroni, and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2014, except for the glassful I knocked over the table, which was a shame.

Another View Of Lower Marsh

Jackie drove me to and from New Milton today for my lunch date with Norman at Tas.

On reaching Waterloo, I walked along Station Approach Road, taking steps down to Lower Marsh and back along the lower road to The Cut and Tas. Lower Marsh has featured before, notably in ‘A Beautiful Setting‘, which tells of my earlier knowledge of this thriving little unpretentious London Street of market stalls and cheap eating places, the ethnic origins of which have changed so much since the early 1960s when I spent my Luncheon Vouchers in the cafes.

The approach road is on two levels, and it is possible to look down on one section from the wall in the first photograph above. The right hand section of this picture shows the backs of Lower Marsh buildings.

Others may be seen before descending the steps.

Graffiti is, of course, in evidence.

Inshoku and Steve’s, visible alongside the graffiti in this picture stand side by side, being examples of the indigenous and incoming cuisines. In the bottom right hand corner of the back view can be glimpsed the alley that is Granby Place,

running alongside the Camel & Artichoke,

whose ship of the desert rests high up on the later extension to the Victorian building. The nesting box on the wall is probably an optimistic gesture.

At the corner of Frazier Street lies Greensmiths ‘A local supermarket with a real difference’. Peering through the windows suggests the boast is not in vain.

A barbecue queue still forms in Waterloo Millennium Gardens, the ‘beautiful setting’ of the above linked post.

Norman and I enjoyed our lunch. My choice was a kalamar starter, followed by a tasty sea food casserole, and baklava. We shared a bottle of the house red wine. I needed nothing more after my return home.

It will be apparent from the above photographs that it was a drab morning in an un-beautiful part of London. It was therefore a positive idea of my Driver’s that we should have a look at the sunset at

Barton on Sea,

and across Roger’s field in Downton Lane.

The Beach House

Late on this crystal crisp clear blue sky morning Ian drove Scooby and me to Marine Drive, East, Barton on Sea, whence we walked along the clifftop.

The Isle of Wight was again sporting a pastel palette,

as we joined other dog walkers, many of whom are now familiar to Ian and Scooby,

whose stance and cocked ears at one fresh encounter betrayed the slight concern that possibly brought about his first bowel-emptying session.

He exhibited no such nervousness in dashing along the steadily eroding edge.

A few other pedestrians strode down below.

There, waterborne sunlight dazzled,

as did the windows of the Beachcomber Cafe where we stopped for coffee.

This afternoon we paid another visit to The Beach House in order to introduce Ian to its exquisite ambience. Clicking on these images will reveal some of the stained glass that adorns this oak panelled building.

More of this can be seen in the Sun Room where we took our tea, coffee, and cakes, at no further cost than Costa’s.

The sunset could be enjoyed from the lounge,

the dining room,

the back room,

and the Sun Room,

where we enjoyed our refreshments whilst, through a protective glass screen we observed

The Isle of Wight,

the garden,

and silhouetted pigeons (this photograph is Becky’s).

The foyer, photographed from the first floor gallery, shows the aforementioned oak panelling that also lines all the corridors to the bedrooms.

Although the personnel were different, the service was as efficient and friendly as we had found yesterday.

For our dinner this evening, Jackie produced a superb beef casserole; cauliflower and broccoli cheese; perfect boiled new potatoes; and crisp carrots and green beans. I finished the El Sotillo, Ian drank Peroni, and Becky drank zinfandel rose.

2Cellos

If we ever get a winter this year, I wonder how our

iris Unguicularis,

daffodils and pansies,

hellebores,

and camellias will fare.

On an afternoon of steady rain, the mood was lifted by two elements.

First, the sky cleared enough to give us a reasonable sunset.

Then………..

Becky tuned in to YouTube and blew our minds.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGU2BBeKaXM?list=PLrRtwIUSeaCH1dVJLFBE48KKShv-VIWI0&w=560&h=315]

Follow the link.

Even if you have only ten minutes to spare. Follow. The link.

If it does not blow yours, you have no soul.

Wikipedia begins its pages on the duo with: ‘2Cellos (stylized 2CELLOS) is a Croatian^[2]^[3] cello duo, consisting of classically trained Luka Šulić and Stjepan Hauser. Signed to Sony Masterworks since 2011, they released three albums and play mainly instrumental arrangements of well-known pop and rock songs.^[4] The duo perform internationally and have been featured on several US TV shows including Glee and The Bachelor (Season 18/Sean and Catherine’s Wedding) [1]‘

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic sausage casserole, crisp carrots and Brussels sprouts, and mashed potatoes, followed by spicy apple crumble and cream. My beverage was more of the Sotillo, Jackie’s Hoegaarden. Ian’s San Miguel, and Becky’s rose wine.

Rosie Lea

This afternoon Jackie drove Becky and me on a recce through the waterlogged forest. On another reasonably warm day, we enjoyed a little sunshine and a lot of showers.

The first stop was near Wootton Bridge on the way to Brockenhurst.

There we encountered expanding pools of water on the forest floor,

a swollen stream,

intermittent sunshine,

and moody clouds above.

Becky’s red coat brightened the landscape a bit.

Soon after we continued our journey, I spotted a pony mother and child foraging by the roadside, and prevailed upon my driver to stop. As I emerged from the car, my potential subject, completely oblivious of oncoming traffic, stepped into the road and made a beeline for me. Wary of the ticks these creatures carry, I returned to the passenger seat.

Becky photographed our friend through the back window.

The beast then walked round to my door and I took over the camera.

Our continuing progress was then briefly impeded by another pony in the road.

Eventually we arrived at Brockenhurst where the sun now shone on oaks

and lichen alike.

It was time for Rosie. A cup of, that is.

For those readers unfamiliar with Cockney Rhyming slang, tea is Rosie Lea, truncated by omitting the second word.

The proprietors of Rosie Lea’s have chosen the full version in naming their tea shop which won the 2014 Hampshire Food and Drink Awards best tea/coffee shop and customer service awards. Incidentally the Bakehouse, that had the queue across the road yesterday, was the best baker. This photograph also doubles as a selfie for Jackie and me.

The cups and saucers in the cabinet photographed above are those used to serve tea in this establishment which also plays ’50s pop music for the customers.

Shortly before sunset we returned via Sway Tower, otherwise known as Peterson’s Folly.

Before building his monument, Judge Peterson erected a trial model, which is shown to the right of this picture.

Sunset was in its prime above Christchurch Road when we arrived home.

We will be eating rather late this evening. This is because Becky and Ian went out earlier and have been held up in traffic. But, fear not. I know what we will be having so I am able to include it and submit this post in reasonable time. It is beef hotpot, carrots, green beans, and cabbage, followed by profiteroles. I will drink more El Sotillo, Jackie will imbibe Hoegaarden, and I expect Ian will have a beer and Becky rose wine. The food will, of course, be cooked to perfection.

Around The Island

On yet another rain-slashed August day, I spared a thought for those holidaymakers who had come to the forest and the seaside for their long-awaited summer break. The last ten days hasn’t bothered me, because my chest infection has kept me indoors anyway, but they can’t have had much fun.

Needless to say this was another day for scanning colour slides, this time from Barbados in May 2004. If nothing else they remind me of sunshine. This set of photographs was made a day or two before Sam was expected to reach the island, having rowed The Atlantic solo from the Canaries.

Both Jackie and I think we ought to recognise this plant, but we don’t. Fortunately Mary Tang has identified it as frangipani.

Bougainvillea brightens every landscape.

A golden sunset is almost a cliche. Not in Port St Charles.

Jessica watches as Louisa shows her photographs to another member of the waiting group.

Birds like the Yellow breasted Sunbury,

and the Barbados Bullfinch, the only indigenous species, which is found nowhere else, take advantage of nature’s camouflage,

as does the land crab.

The grackle

and the sanderling don’t seem to need it.

This gentleman demonstrates the method of releasing milk from a coconut.

Just before the expected arrival time even the previously bright blue Caribbean Sea darkened,

and a rainbow arced over Port St Charles.

I was regularly in touch with Radio Nottingham to deliver live updates from my mobile phone. That night, I opened our balcony doors so that listeners could hear the deafening waves crashing in from the Atlantic.

This evening we dined on barbecue pork ribs, savoury rice, and green beans. Jam tart and custard was to follow. Ian drank Heritage de Calvet cotes du Rhone 2014; Becky drank lime cordial; Jackie, sparkling water; and I, another glass of the pinot noir.

Giant Jenga

Last night at sundown I took an amble down to Roger’s field and back. On Downton Lane the light glinted behind the secret garden gate. On a glorious morning, Jackie drove me down to the cashpoint in Milford on Sea, and left me at The Beach House so I could take my usual walk home. The bright blue Solent, tuned into a yachting marina, reflected the skies above; the sun shone; still streaks of salmon clouds had risen to the surface above the horizon; a white-haired jogger plodded, solitary walkers strode energetically, while those with dogs paused periodically for a sniff along the clean gravelled footpath; butterflies fluttered; crows and gulls flew overhead; a small shrew scuttled out of the undergrowth; and thrift and other wild flowers glistened in the sunlight on the clifftop. A passing woman greeted me with ‘it’s a lovely morning’. ‘It is, said I, and I’ve left my camera battery at home’. ‘Oh, no’, she replied, reflecting my own feeling when I discovered I had left the energy supplier on charge overnight. Families leaving Shorefield teemed down to West Road. Younger joggers were out in force. Two small boys, in their eagerness to reach the sea, ran down the slope, the larger lad leaving the smaller panting in his wake. The breasts of another, sadly overweight, wobbled beneath his mesh-fronted T-shirt as he painfully waddled along. In the Country Park itself, basking holidaymakers breakfasted or read on their chalet balconies. A barking dog protected its temporary residence. On Downton Lane, speeding cyclists played chicken with cars, many open-topped, preventing them from travelling at their own preferred speed. In a recent post, Geoff , thebikinggardener #can i eat nasturtiums wrote of his ambivalent relationship with these plants. As we watered the front garden we were presented, in the form of hairy black and yellow chomping caterpillars, with ample evidence of what he was saying. The older section of our brick path, set almost 100 years ago, has, with the passage of time, soil movement and the incursion of tree roots, become uneven, and dangerous for visitors ending the support of walking sticks; although the bricks themselves remain sound. During the morning Aaron and Lee have made excellent progress in the task of lifting and levelling them. The original, fiddly, pattern has been lost, but that is a small price to pay. Before setting off to Shelley and Ron’s home in Walkford for a barbecue lunch we drove to Everton Nurseries to buy an aluminium bench for the south west corner of the rose garden, and put it in place on bricks we have yet properly to embed. The barbecue was also attended by Helen and Bill, Neil, Donna, and Anthony. We had a splendid afternoon of convivial conversation, superb sausages, lamb and chicken satay kebabs, salads, followed later by fruit salad, strawberries, lemon cake, and cheesecake according to choice. Red and white wine, coke, cider, and beer were all on offer. A surprisingly long section of the mid-afternoon was occupied by a game of Giant Jenga. It didn’t seem possible to me that this precarious pastime could last any longer than a few minutes. A tower of long wooden blocks is built to begin with. Each player must remove one block without upsetting the structure, and place it on the top. Gradually the lower levels are depleted, but the height remains the same, until the increasingly tottering tower finally collapses. The person who made the last successful placement is the winner.

After a few early extractions, Bill is seen here making another.

Quite early on Neil appeared to go to sleep on the job,

but recovered to make a flamboyant removal later on, when wobbling was under way.

Ron, with a flourish, applied his structural engineering skills to the task,

while Shelley undertook careful all-round investigation

and slid one out from the bottom, starting another top layer.

Helen couldn’t believe her luck.

As the tower began to sway, I didn’t really fancy my chances,

even after the withdrawal the tower was likely to topple.

Bill’s penultimate attempt warranted considerable contemplation,

as did Anthony’s final one.

I always followed Bill, and each time increasingly prayed that he would upset the structure.

Finally my luck was in. This was just as well, because Bill almost managed to withdraw the last block that would have been at all possible.

For the second evening running, we had no need of dinner.

The Beach Fortress: The Definitive Illustrated Edition

Anyone caring to scroll down the comments on ‘And What Came Next?’ will be able to see several suggestions for the ending of the story. On Facebook, Becky has offered ‘The fly said ” Your wings are MASSIVE!” and the butterfly replied “How rude! You smell of poo. Shoo Fly!” And the fly buzzed off to find a nice cow-pat for his tea.’ And Sara Head: . ‘And jumped back in shock! “You’re real” each exclaimed, “I thought you were my reflection.”‘ Two rather good ones, I thought, but each a little more inventive than those of the two small grandchildren: Emily: ‘And they got married’. Oliver: ‘And the butterfly ate the fly’. Neither of my daughters is at all demanding. Therefore, when Becky put in a plea for seeing The Beach Fortress in the process of construction, it has been my pleasure to comply. Not being able to lay my hands on the negatives from August 1999, today I scanned a mere selection from the printed record. Here it is:

Sam, Louisa, James, Gemma, Lucy, and Nick start on a pile of sand on the beautiful beach of Instow, whist boats ply the channel between this and the former fishing village of Appledore,

and Canon Henry Pearson leans against a moored boat surveying the scene.

At this early stage it is possible for passers-by, like this mother pushing a pram, to be unaware of what is happening.

Gradually, however, the young of Instow gather round.

Louisa and Lucy smooth the surfaces,

and Lucy employs the services of a little local helper.

Bigger lads look on.

Jim shares a joke with Lucy, whose assistant has wandered off

to see if Louisa has any requirements, whilst his sister examines the footings.

Sometimes it’s not exactly clear who is in charge.

By the time the sun begins to sink below the horizon, the crew are able to position the flambeaus, and delight in their creation.

Jessica and Judith prepare refreshments, evening wear is donned,

and the village begins to assemble.

Jessica sports her trademark Monsoon skirt.

‘David Robert Shepherd MBE (27 December 1940 – 27 October 2009)^[1] was a first-class cricketer who played county cricket for Gloucestershire, and later became one of the cricket world’s best-known umpires. He stood in 92 Test matches, the last of them in June 2005, the most for any English umpire. He also umpired 172 ODIs [One Day Internationals], including three consecutive World Cup, finals in 1996, 1999 and 2003′ (Wikipedia).

He has observed the proceedings from very early on.

As night closes in, the torches are lit, and the crowd dwindles away,

eventually leaving the field to three proud mothers: from left to right, Ali, of James; Jessica, of Sam and Louisa; and Judith, of Lucy and Nick.

Anyone clicking on these images for enlargement will notice that I haven’t done any retouching. After all, there is only so much one can do in a day. Not that anyone would believe that, seeing what this lot achieved.

Fast forward to this evening, when Jackie and I dined on her potent spaghetti arrabiata, followed by sticky toffee pudding and custard. She drank Hoegaarten and I drank Louis de Camponac cabernet sauvignon 2014.