violas – derrickjknight

The Greenhouse Path

Every year we are invaded by small white onion flowers which bear clusters of up to 24 tiny bulbs which are very difficult to eradicate.

Jackie has set about these menaces with a vengeance.

Every brick or slab beneath which they have hidden themselves she has lifted in order to remove each tiny offspring.

Having completed the work on the brick circle around the urn on the site of the old well, she turned her attention to the Greenhouse Path which she finished today.

In addition to photographing her work in progress she also focussed on a few flowers.

Our various camellias are still going strong;

She has dead-headed the daffodils that are past their best, but there are many varieties with different time-scales.

Some violas have been included in pots with other planting; a few stand alone.

Blue wood anemones; a white Leucojum ‘Spring Snowflakes’ with green tips; mauve hellebores; and an ornamental owl surrounded by new clematis shoots, complete her gallery.

Elizabeth dropped in this afternoon for a cup of tea and convivial chat.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie; carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, runner beans, and gravy, with which I drank more of the Rioja.

Here Comes Spring

This morning I deleted from my iPhotos all the images from

and from

The garden today is Springlike.

Having taken in the general scene from our upstairs windows, I wandered around delighting in some individual blooms. Each of these images bears a title in the gallery.

This afternoon I watched the Women’s Six Nations rugby match between England and Italy.

Our dinner this evening consisted of roast duck and chicken pieces; boiled new potatoes; firm carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, with which I finished the Kimbao wine.

Some Squirrel Survivors

This afternoon I wandered around the garden with my camera.

Each of these images bears a title in the gallery. It will be seen that some of the tulips have survived the stealthily stealing squirrel.

Afterwards I sat down with ‘The Cunning Man’.

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork; crisp Yorkshire pudding; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; tender broccoli stems and runner beans, with meaty gravy, with which I drank more of the Malbec.

Garden, Pigs, And Ponies

This morning I read more of ‘The Berlin Diaries’.

By mid-afternoon, with the warm sun vying with the cotton clouds for dominance of the skies,

I wandered round the garden with my camera. The Virginia creeper has reddened up beautifully in the last 48 hours. Each of the images bears a title in the gallery.

Later, the sun having defeated the clouds, we visited Ferndene Farm shop to buy various food items and three more bags of compost for which I now have to avail myself of the trolleys provided.

We continued into the forest where we tracked a group of young

Tamworth pigs as they left the road for gleeful chomping on heaps of crunchy apples.

Ponies along Forest Road formed an orderly line along a wall in the shade; while

others disrupted the traffic on Tiptoe Road.

After drinks on the patio we dined on Jackie’s tasty liver casserole; boiled new potatoes, carrots, runner beans, and broccoli, with which I drank more of the Malbec.

Habitual Head Hangers

Blues skies returned today for our first visit to Mum in Woodpeckers since before the Christmas lockdown, which has been somewhat relaxed.

We were able to use the screen room. Jackie photographed Mum behind the screen in which I am reflected. My mother was in good spirits, but not hearing too well, especially at the beginning, probably because of having to adjust after the long absence.

The Assistant Photographer also pictured the view from the window, containing

ponies in a neighbouring field, and

small birds in a tree. Unfortunately Mum would not be able to see all this.

As can be seen from the pictures above, we experienced some sunny periods today. This afternoon I entered the garden with trepidation, to be pleasantly surprised. So far the gale force winds have inflicted virtually no damage.

A few empty trugs have been transported; a watering can has taken refuge in the compost container outside the kitchen door; and one basket is down.

Smaller plants, like primulas, violas, and trailing vinca remain unperturbed.

Daffodils which we feared would be flattened, and the tulips which had been flattened, and spiked, by a recent frost, stood proudly erect.

Apart from a few blown down blooms, our camellias are all unscathed.

Many of our hellebores, habitual head hangers, unusually held theirs high.

Elizabeth came to dinner for the first time since lockdown. Jackie produced one of her splendidly succulent steak, onion, and mushroom pies; roast potatoes; boiled purple potatoes; crunchy carrots and Brussels sprouts; firm cauliflower, and meaty gravy with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while my sister and I drank Mendoza Malbec 2019. This was followed by a lemon tart.

Sunlight Playing The Forest

Despite the forecast of sunny spells today we were treated to clear cerulean skies and full sunshine throughout the day.

As we set off early to Ferndene Farm shop I paused to admire Jackie’s planting of primulas and violas in front of the garage door trellis.

This was the view from the car as I waited for just a short time for the Shopping Lady to rejoin me.

Long shadows stretched across Beckley Road and the driveway to The Glen;

and knitted knotted skeins across the woodland verges beside the road to Burley, on which

Jackie parked the Modus enabling me to photograph the moorland landscape.

Joggers, cars, walkers, and cyclists competed for space. We had imagined that the rather slow driver of the red car was keeping her distance from the cyclists ahead. She was, however, no faster after those on bikes turned off.

Hightown Lane was my next point of embarkation. Again walkers, cyclists, and other vehicles vied for space on the narrow road. Voices carried some distance.

I began drinking in the delights of the clear, sparkling, stream, revealing glimpses of its bed among rippling reflections; clumps of golden daffodils; bright backlit leaves; and pendant overhanging catkins.

One of the field horses wearing a red rug revealed the need for warmth during the still very cold nights. It wasn’t that warm at 11 a.m. either.

Gnarled trees and sinuous wooden fences cast their own images beneath and beside them;

while those following the contours of mossy banks created concave and convex curves as penetrating light illuminated the soft green cushions and picked out russet autumn leaves.

During her vigil on the verge Jackie spent some time pondering who might live in a cave on the bank.

This evening we dined on further helpings of yesterday’s, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Merlot Tannat.

We Thought It Best To Pull Over

Leaving the others asleep in their pits early this morning, Jackie and I took a drive into the forest in the vicinity of Burley.

Bluebells are cropping up on all the verges.

As I disembarked to photograph a stream and its reflections, a mallard shot under the bridge at a rate of knots leaving its wake serrating the surface of the water.

I exchanged waves with a bunch of cyclists while I prepared to cross to the other side of the road

in order to photograph fallen trees, their reflections, and banks of primulas, celandines, and violets,

all of which flourished beneath my feet.

I was hampered somewhat in photographing a large fallen tree with its tangled lichen-laden limbs still bearing fresh foliage. As I framed the shot the driver of the car decanting children, their Dad, and their bikes, clearly intending to ensure a bout of photobombing, reversed the necessary couple of metres. We indulged in friendly conversation and I wished the male members of the party an enjoyable ride as the mother drove away, leaving the track clear for us.

We returned home via Holmsley Passage alongside which a pair of ponies turned their backs on

a family group of cyclists on hired bikes as they struggled up the hill. The woman who towed the little trailer was not young. I don’t know about her, but I was mightily relieved when a gentleman changed places with her. We thought it best to pull over and wait until they had climbed their Everest.

This afternoon, Becky, Ian, and Louis returned to Southbourne where the young man was to catch a train back to his home.

This evening we dined on roast lamb, roast potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower cheese with which I drank more of the Merlot Bonarda and Jackie didn’t.

Back In The Garden

Stormy weather and a heavy cold have kept me indoors for the last week. Today the wind has dropped to 20 m.p.h. and the sun has shone. I therefore took a walk in the garden. Jackie now has the cold and is currently housebound.

Our winter flowering cherry remains bright against the blue sky above.

The copper beech and the weeping birch still display their skeletal frames;

pruned roses are biding their time to burst forth in bloom.

Golden forsythia glows beside the patio.

Whichever way you look at them, the old cart wheels and the gazebo arches have designs on the gravel path,

visible beyond this end of the Phantom Path.

Camellias still bloom and bud throughout the shrubberies.

Daffodils still abound. Those in the patio are accompanied by tulips, pansies, and violas.

Primulas, bergenias, hellebores, cyclamens, comfrey, alliums, grape hyacinths, and pulmonaria all await discovery in the beds.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese served with rashers of bacon, followed by lemon Bakewell tarts.

Snatching Snoozes

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In ‘The Card Case’, I spoke of the client who had no money to pay my fee, but brought me the occasional small gift, all of which I have treasured for almost 30 years. I am not a science fiction fan, so I have not read many of his paperback books. One of these is Poul Anderson’s ‘The Makeshift Rocket’. I finished this short novel this morning. It was a surprisingly entertaining work. Light-hearted, with a touch of dry humour, once I had ceased trying to decipher the author’s attempts at reproducing Danish and Irish spoken English, I enjoyed the book.

Afterwards I photographed garden views from upstairs windows and from the stable doorway.

Having decided to reduce the codeine element in my pain relief, I struggled a bit today. On the other hand it may have been the amount of walking on uneven terrain I undertook yesterday. Consequently I spent the afternoon alternately dozing over snatches of World Cup football and having brief forays into the garden.

A new day lily has forced its way through the soil to join the marigolds beside the greenhouse.

Geranium palmatums lead us past more day lilies in the Palm Bed to the eucalyptus and beyond.

Urns, like this stone one Jackie has planted up at the end of the Brick Path,

and the pottery one standing on the filled in well, counteract what she call “The June Gap”, when there is not normally much colour around.

The hanging baskets on the kitchen wall and the two clematises in pots on the corner serve the same purpose.

Rose Ballerina dances in the bed beside the entrance to the Rose Garden,

where such as Rosa Gallica and Mama Mia continue to splash their colour.

Hydrangea Swinging Sixties is another plant in a pot,

opposite which Linaria and Valerian vie for space in the Oval Bed.

My final trip up the garden was via the Phantom Path to join Jackie taking a break on the decking. There I passed the Cryptomeria Bed with its clematis, geranium palmatums, and hot lips; a penstemon in Margery’s Bed; a planted pot on the corner of the Gazebo Path; and Florence sculpture with her basket of bacopa.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious chicken jalfrezi and splendid special fried rice. She drank Hoegaarden and I didn’t.

Do You Like Butter?

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This morning, while Jackie weeded and I cleared up, Aaron smoothed concrete edging around the greenhouse base and realigned a section of The Head Gardener’s Walk.

At the other end of the garden the recent plantings in the Oval Bed have matured;

honeysuckle swings among the day lilies and petunias in the Weeping Birch Bed;

Violas grimace appealingly in the barrier tubs;

in the Rose Garden lilies still sway beside the Potting Shed,

while potted petunias and bedded penstemons offer accompaniment to the roses.

The view across the centre of the garden from the Shady Path has been opened up.

Out of sight on the far side pink and white sweet peas climb for Bruce.

Similarly hued fuchsias dangle from a pot beside the Gazebo Path.

I’m sure we were not the only children who held buttercups to friends’ chins, asking “Do you like butter?”. If your chin glowed yellow, you did. If not, you didn’t. Noticing this bee’s pollen coated butt, I asked the question.

“I’m not listening to this”, cried the bee, buzzing off with alacrity

This evening we enjoyed a second sitting of Mr Chan’s fare, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank a delicious gold medal winning Saint Emilion grand cru, a birthday present from Danni and Andy.

After this, prompted by Becky, I watched the highlights of the fourth day of the Test Match between England and South Africa. This turned out to be a good call.