wood pigeons – derrickjknight

October Sunshine

Although my usual BCG procedure symptoms disturbed my sleep, by midmorning they had subsided, leaving me rather lacking in energy. I therefore dozed over the BBC radio transmission of the third day’s play in the second test match between England and Pakistan.

Having once more watched the cumbersome wood pigeons teetering precariously among slender stems while they attempted to keep the occasional crab apple in their beaks, I took a brief walk around the garden where

roses such as Aloha and Festive Jewel are still blooming,

and Rosa Siluetta Lavender continues to wind itself around the Weeping Birch trunk which it shares with mushrooms generated from its wood.

Fuchsias, for example Mrs Popple and Delta’s Sarah will probably survive the winter.

Clerodendrum Trichotomum is at its peak;

dahlias continue and Japanese anemones still attract bees

A hidden clematis cluster shelters alongside the Heligan Path.

Many pots of violas have not been mislabelled, they carry signs that bulbs are planted beneath them.

This evening we dined on Ferndene pork and garlic sausages; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower, broccoli, and Brussels sprouts. with which I drank another glass of viña San Juan.

Yerma By Federico García Lorca

We were very fortunate at Southampton General Hospital this morning because my BCG vaccine procedure began on time and 20 minutes later I was ready to go home, This meant that we were on our way out of the building when an ear-bursting bellow vied with piercing higher tones from the tannoy system instructing everyone to clear the building by the nearest available exit. It seemed that the whole world then walked slowly towards the main doorways. No-one panicked which was a good thing. By the time we had walked to our car, those who still had appointments or work inside, continued to mill about outside. I had warned others approaching that they could expect an evacuation. We recognised many of them as we escaped by car.

It is interesting that I had forgotten the acute discomfort I experienced for the first 48 hours after the first session; I was soon reminded after we returned home. Never mind, I know it will pass.

I spent much of the afternoon reading the first of the three tragedies in the Folio Society’s collection by Federico García Lorca.

The frontispiece above is clearly a portrait of the author himself and that on the front board probably Yerma. This tragic figure struggles with her longing for a child to whom she talks while caressing her empty womb and wishes for passion from her cold husband while trying to suppress her own. She lives in a society where a woman doesn’t count as one unless she has children. Identifying with this belief she engages in fertility rites to help her conceive, yet clings to her honour.

García questions this through the voices of his largely female cast, including gossiping washerwomen; young girls; a sorceress and her acolytes; and the silence of her husband’s shrivelled sisters.

We have music and dance, and the poetic language one would expect from the writer that García is. “The rain smoothes the stones by falling on them, and then the weeds grow – people say they are useless – ….but there they are, I can see them moving their yellow flowers in the wind.” “Have you ever held a live bird in your hand? ….Well [pregnancy is] like that; only in your blood.”

Even the scene directions are telling (Pause. The silence intensifies and without any outward indication one is aware of the struggle between the two) or (The second sister appears and goes over to the doorway, where she stands like a statue in the last light of the evening)

Sue Bradbury, the translator, provides a knowledgeable and well written introduction to the writer and his work.

Presenting Peter Pendrey’s Lino-cuts as they lie on the page offers examples of the poet’s writing.

Wood pigeons are heavy, ungainly, birds more like barrage balloons than delicate creatures who could manage to feed on the crab apples I see beyond my window as they cling precariously to the bending branches and tear at the fruit, dropping as much as they consume. Today they faced the afternoon gloom and allowed rain to drip from their plumage.

This evening we enjoyed further portions of Hrodle Chinese Take Away fare with which I drank one glass of La Macha viña San Juan Merlot, Syrah, Tempranillo 2023.

From Thunderstorm To Sunshine

With thunderstorms raging outside and my having been the last to succumb to the common cold that has worked its way through the household, I stayed inside and watched World Cup rugby starting with a recording of last night’s match between Wales and Tonga; then live matches between South Africa and Romania and between Australia and Fiji.

This evening the sun emerged and Jackie photographed

the hour before twilight. Each image is entitled in its gallery.

This evening we all dined on roast lamb; boiled new potatoes, firm broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots, mint sauce, and meaty gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the GSM.

Waterworks

Jackie began the day by photographing a pair of dripping wood pigeons huddled atop the Weeping Birch before overnight rain had desisted.

As the skies began to brighten we set off on a drive into the forest where the only signs of livestock were

cyclists like these on Sowley Lane, on the verge of which the

Assistant Photographer photographed attractive pink bramble blossom along with fruit not fully formed beside a

potato field in the

process of being sprayed with waterworks which could probably have

inspired Handel.

I spent much of the afternoon recovering one post’s pictures. I could not have got anywhere with it without Wayback. There was no other way to work out which pictures were missing, especially as some of those that were there bore no relevance to the text:

Happier Behind The Camera

In the event, it was impossible for me to change either the header picture or the category. Although this doesn’t really matter I would have liked to have done both.

This evening we all dined on roast lamb, roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and gravy, followed by Apple Strudel and custard with which Jackie and Becky drank Blossom Hill White Zinfandel 2021, Ian drank Peroni, and I finished the Nerello Mascalese.

Ellie finished off the bone.

A Model Driver

With the silence of the morning of warm sunshine belying the chill of the crisp air disturbed only by

the screeching of nesting jackdaws taking up their annual residence in the disused chimney pots, the flapping wings of wood pigeons engaged in the usual ceremonial ritual of chase and feigned refusal, and other males’ familiar courting cries of “U-ni-ted” resounding in the distance, I wandered among the garden shadows,

focussing on a variety which are entitled in the gallery.

Afterwards I recovered the pictures to the following posts:

Narcissism Personified

Colt

A Rookery

The first of these required the Attempt Block Recovery route; the other two, Convert to Blocks. If nothing else, these variations keep my brain agile – sort of.

This afternoon, on a forest drive, attracted by the

collection of ancient steam rollers at the entrance to Springhill Nurseries on Shirley Holmes, I almost missed

the model driver and her equally glamorous passenger gracing the truck behind the largest rusting vehicle.

Becky and Ian joined us later and, with three mothers in our party on Mothers’ Day, we all dined at Lal Quilla, where we enjoyed the usual ambience, service, friendly staff, and excellent food. My main course was lamb pathia and I drank Kingfisher. I am now past detailing further details of who ate and drank what.

No Longer In The Shade

Once again we struggled in unaccustomed heat to thin out the rampant wisteria, and compost and bag up the clippings.

Jackie did most of the pruning and photographed the process before

and after her efforts.

As she said, she was no longer working in the shade.

Although the bulk of the composting and bagging fell to me,

the Head Gardener put in a chopping stint after lunch, when

we made more progress.

Fortunately we have secured a cancellation spot at the dump on 22nd.

The evening light as, in T-shirt temperature, we took our pre-dinner drinks on the patio, fell on

two socially distanced wood pigeons perched on the lopped cypress on the far side of the garden.

One flew of; the other remained unperturbed.

It was good to see that potted petunias and pelargoniums and fuchsia Delta’s Sarah.had perked up after recent watering.

We dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away second sitting with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Alma Da Vinha Douro Doc 2018.

An Increase In Numbers

For much of the day, apart from when Margery and Paul visited this afternoon, I listened to the men’s Cricket World Cup semi-final between England and Australia.

We enjoyed our usual stimulating conversation with this mother and son. Margery’s Bed is named after our friend who, a year or two ago, gave us some red hollyhock seeds which Jackie planted there. We were happy to tell her that they were blooming again at this time.

After the cricket finished I performed a dead heading session before our drinks in the Rose Garden where

Lanarth White lace cap hydrangea contrasts with Mrs Popple fuchsia;

and various lilies are keeping company with the roses,

one of which, Twice in a Blue Moon was a present from Becky and Ian for our second wedding.

We really don’t know how many wood pigeons inhabit our garden, but we can be sure that, because of their constant amorous activity, there will be an increase in numbers next year as usual. They resemble lumbering barrage balloons in the air, whoosh past my head as I sit in their flight path, thump on the fence or arbour supports on landing, and clatter among the branches overhead to announce their return home.

This evening we dined on succulent chicken Kiev; creamy mashed potato; savoury rice; crisp cauliflower; and tender green beans and sweetcorn, with which Jackie drank Blue Moon and I drank Oyster Bay Merlot 2016 given to me by Mat and Tess for my birthday.

Catch Me If You Can

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Aaron of AP Maintenance’s main task today was weeding the Back Drive.

Taking it in turns to stand aloof, a pair of wood pigeons, wobbling along our eastern fence, engaged in their annual mating ritual. Each time the chaser reached his target she turned her back; he feigned departure; she took up the chase. A provocative game of ‘Catch Me If You Can’. It works for any species.

Today’s butterflies were mainly white, flitting about elusively. This Green-veined variety was considerate enough to take a moment’s rest.

Hopefully, Jackie’s new roses planted in the West Bed will soon climb the Gothic arch across the Brick Path.

Always the last to sprout, the copper beach leaves are putting in an appearance.

Among Jackie’s plantings were Nori gladioli in the New Bed.

From his vantage point on the roof a tiny sparrow stands guard on his family in the eaves.

This evening we are on our way to Cadnam to dine at The White Hart with Jacqueline and Elizabeth. Should there be anything of note to report, I will feature it tomorrow.

A Dismantled Burglar Alarm

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These are some of the views from the patio that we enjoyed this morning whilst drinking our morning coffee.

I was in and out of New Milton today. This morning Jackie drove me to Barclays bank to attend to some executor business, and this afternoon to Birchfield Dental Practice for an appointment with the hygienist. After the second trip we travelled on to East End to see how the thatching was coming along.

It is now a beautiful job nearing completion, demonstrating painstaking skill and artistry.

Dave had finished for the day when we arrived,

and had left his tools firmly in place for continuing tomorrow.

Back home one of the clematises in the front garden now curls over the ceramic house sign;

the paler pink ramblers romp over the trellis;

and the darker ones beribbon the porch roof.

One of our sparrow families, carefully disconnecting it first, has made use of a rather obsolete rusted burglar alarm. They had more success than I did dismantling one back in Soho. That adventure is recounted in my post ‘A Little White Lie’.

The evening light on the patio gave us different views including Marie Boisselot,

and the red Japanese maple.

We were also treated to an avian orgy involving four wood pigeons. One by one these birds alighted on the cypress branch, formed a disorderly melee, and engaged in frantic flapping. There was no billing and cooing and It was all over rather too quickly for comfort.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese, fish pie, runner beans, carrots, and asparagus. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I consumed more of the cabernet sauvignon.