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.
Early this morning I watched a recording of last night’s rugby World Cup match between France and Italy, and before my afternoon’s viewing of the games between Wales and Georgia and England v. Samoa, walked around our warm, sun-filled, plot to photograph
another selection of unlikely garden bedfellows, each of which bears a title in the gallery.
This evening we all enjoyed Jackie’s meal of her well filled mound of beef and onions stacked beneath short crust decorated pastry; crisp roast red potatoes; Brussels sprouts, carrots, and broccoli al dente; and thick, meaty gravy, with which she finished the Blush and I finished the Bordeaux.
Early this morning I watched a recording of last night’s rugby World Cup match between New Zealand and Uruguay.
Later, sporting short sleeved shirt on a walk round the balmy garden of sunshine and shadows, I wondered what season we were experiencing.
Martin has spent the last several weeks preparing the garden for autumn which is holding back summer.
In particular he has cut back all extraneous flora on the borders, revealing the brick edging.
Most of what we now see clearly in the beds has also been freed for viewing by him.
We don’t necessarily expect all these blooms to appear together.
As usual each image bears a title in its gallery.
This evening we all dined on Jackie’s colourful savoury rice; spring rolls; tempura and hot and spicy prawn preparations followed by berry strudel and custard, with which she drank more of the blush and I drank more of the Bordeaux.
I spent much of the morning reading more of “Clarissa” and took a walk round the garden this afternoon.
My intention was to focus on fuchsias, such as
Delta’s Sarah;
Army Nurse;
Magellicana;
and Hawkshead,
but I was distracted by various dahlias;
roses, for example Ernest Morse;
and sinuous Virginia Creeper’s varicoloured clothing.
As usual at this time of year I became prey to spiders hoping for something tasty to fill their winter larders. This one didn’t finish up about my person.
WordPress comments and likes seemed to run quite smoothly today, but when I came to write the post I realised that this had been a con by the gremlins.
This evening we dined on second helpings of yesterday’s Chinese takeaway with similar beverages.
On a balmy late-summer morning I took my camera around the garden seeking auguries of the true autumn as opposed to the false one we experienced as a consequence of the heatwave of a month ago.
We have two crab apple trees in the front garden, the fruit of which have, until last winter, nourished our blackbirds throughout the colder months. During the last such season they eschewed these offerings. It remains to be seen whether these members of the Malus genus will this year fall untasted to the ground.
This blue lace cap hydrangea is borne by a regenerated stem on a plant apparently finished for the year.
Varieties of wilting phlox have also rejuvenated,
as have drought-dried dahlias, while
blooming begonias burgeon once more.
Dwarf sunflowers grown from seed have emerged from the soil.
Pale lilac colchicums, or autumn crocuses, nod to their season,
as do Rosa Glauca hips
and the barren seed heads of some clematises.
Virginia creeper’s mantle draping the south wall of the back drive is turning to its warm autumnal hues.
Crown Princess Margareta continues climbing over the rose garden covered bench,
and Special Anniversary has come round again.
White solanum and purple clematis clamber over the dead elm trunk.
This evening Jackie drove us all over to Spice Cottage in Westbourne where we dined with Becky and Ian. Flo, Dillon, and Ellie remained to stay with our daughter and son-in-law for a couple of nights.
I will feature this event with a couple of photographs tomorrow.
On a warm and sunny day our friend Jessie who, because of Covid, has not been able to visit for three years, arrived in time for lunch to stay for the weekend.
It was delightful to catch up again, and for Jessie to be able to remind us of all the changes both inside the house and in the garden since our last visit.
We took a walk around the garden, where I photographed
a random range of roses, dahlias, and other plants all of which are labelled in the gallery.
This evening we dined on pork spare ribs in barbecue sauce and Jackie’s egg and mushroom rice.
As the early morning sunshine made way for the later gloom I assisted the Head Gardener in some tidying of the garden whilst also
recording the current state of affairs. Along with various views I photographed dahlias, fuchsias, clematises, roses, nicotiana, leaves of Weeping Birch and Virginia creeper, asters, a bee, and begonias. Clicking on any image will access the gallery which provides individual titles and aids enlargement.
Later this afternoon because we were promised sunny periods we went in search of some, finding one bestowing its charms on Ibsley where
an assortment of pigs frenziedly competing for mast rocketed along the leaf-dappled verges and to and fro across the roads grunting, snuffling, occasionally squealing in isolated panic and frantically dashing about, perplexing the be-rugged field horses and amusing visiting drivers.
The forded stream is now reasonably full,
and the surrounding landscapes rich in autumn colour.
A solitary pony at Appleslade sported.a caramel coat.
This evening we dined on succulent roast chicken; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes, the sweeter variety being softer centred; herby sage and onion stuffing; tender cabbage and firm Brussels sprouts, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Médoc.
Today the unrelenting gloom developed as the day progressed. The leaden sky became more so, although the temperature was reasonably warm when, this morning
I jammed more than 20 of our garden refuse bags into the Modus, leaving about 10 in our pile.
After lunch, Jackie having secured a half hour slot at the Efford dump, off we drove joyfully to abandon our rubbish, only to be denied entrance because the gatekeeper did not have us on his list. The man was as helpful as he could be, but despite my best negotiation skills, including pleading age and infirmity, all he was able to do was give us a direct telephone number which was perhaps more helpful than the on-line process previously used.
We returned home, had a cry, and I made the call. I did discover what had gone wrong but cannot be bothered to dwell on it. We have to start the process all over once more tomorrow.
The back drive is quite some length, so we unloaded the bags quite near the gate to make them more accessible to the car when we needed to fill it up again.
While I was there I produced a few photographs of the drive before taking a short trip into the now gloomier forest.
For the seven years we have lived here, and no doubt far longer, the scaffolding protecting passing vehicles from the possible collapse of this dilapidated building on a bend along Silver street has been gathering a rich rust patina. It seemed to fit our mood to stop and photograph it. Then we went home.
This evening we dined on spicy pepperoni pizza and plentiful fresh salad with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Fleurie.
This morning I completed an e-mail exchange with Barrie Haynes who had sent me a copy of his latest novel, “Adam”.
The book carries a good, intriguing, story written in tight, fast-moving, prose with nothing superfluous.
Despite its five star rating on Amazon, the work, on account of the sexual innuendos which some will find humorous, will not appeal to all tastes. There is however no bad language. Barrie tells me that a sampler can be read on that site in order to allow potential buyers to make their own judgement.
Today we took a break from gardening, although Jackie did perform some watering, weeding, and dead heading after lunch.
Alongside the A338 we stopped to photograph a splendid Virginia creeper we have often admired.
Once we are into the north of the forest we are bound to encounter donkeys,
such as these with their sometimes somnolent foals at Ibsley,
where ponies gather in less numbers. One of the latter equines has a shared hairdresser with
the elegant alpacas resident at Hockey’s Farm, where
we lunched alfresco on account of Covid restrictions. Their excellent system provides a takeaway service which is delivered outside where we are permitted to eat it. This, today, was somewhat disconcerting as the cooing, twittering, and gentle birdsong emanating from the aviary
beside which we sat was constantly shattered by
the machine-gun rattle of acorns crashing onto the corrugated perspex roof. Some ricocheted downward. I sat on one that had come to rest on my chair.
It was Jackie who photographed the aviary guide and the first three of these gallery images.
We were fortunate not to have been lunching beneath the conker tree a hundred yards or so along the road.
This lane and wall outside Stuckton, where a speckled wood butterfly settled on its ivy cladding, were dappled by sunlight
that also cast shadows across the Godshill end of Ringwood Road thus camouflaging wandering ponies.
This evening we dined on spicy pizza and chicken salad with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Douro.
While I was drafting yesterday’s post Jackie nipped into the garden for a matter of minutes to take photographic advantage of
the last rays of the setting sun. From this end of the Back Drive (take note of the larch beyond the compost bins on the right) she focussed on
the Virginia creeper and accompanying Japanese anemones.
She also caught a pink rose with which I hadn’t been successful earlier on.
The golden light in the background picked up the the tips of the cypress tree;
the weeping birch,
Japanese maples,
and more.
Today, while the Head Gardener continued with her bed clearance, taking occasional trips to make sure she was safe, Nugget kept the enemy from the gate.
He perched on a tree midway,
puffed himself up,
had a good shake,
and a preen;
until he decided he looked hard enough to take on
his rival who was switching between the hawthorn and the larch on the Back Drive.
So, for a little variety “Where’s Nugget’s Rival?”
This evening we dined on Jackie’s nicely matured liver and bacon casserole; crisp Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, parsnips, mushrooms, and butternut squash; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts and green beans, with which the Culinary Queen drank Blue Moon and I drank more of the Saint-Chinian.
