You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2024.
I have talked for over a year about the fish and the flowers at Lakmahal, self-indulgently I realized, as I noted three days ago in ending the Wednesday series. I have changed that to talking about travel, for I realized too that, while I had written much about travel since I started working actively on the blog after coronavirus struck, I had not written anything here about travels after 2022.
I had thought then about continuing with elemental nature in my house on Saturdays, combining fish and flowers as I had done when I first started writing about my garden at the beginning of of 2022. But that too I thought might sound repetitive after the concentrated posts of the past year. Though I continue fascinated at the changes that are rung in the different fish tanks, and the emergence of roses and lotuses again and again in different positions, that excitement cannot be shared continuously by others.
But I realized too that there was another element of life here that I had not talked about on the blog, and that is the canine, the dogs that live here and form an increasingly large part of my life. Toby was well settled at Lakmahal when I started working intensively on the blog, and in those days he was indeed much at the cottage, when moving between provinces was not allowed for some time.
He did not really feature on facebook either, but last year, when I acquired two new puppies, I started a series on facebook, called ‘My animals and other family’, to talk about them, and though that series also looked at the family in the widest sense, to include inanimate nature and also fish, the dogs have figured prominently on it, not least because one of them had puppies earlier this year. And so too they have figured in another series I began on January 1st called ‘Lakmahal Life’, taking on from writing about my gardens, for the two previous years, in accounts that were then taken up in the two blog series that began 60 weeks ago, on Wednesdays and Sundays.
But since the dogs did not figure here, I will now present them though I presume, now that it has been done once, I will be told when the series is getting tedious. I have given it a title that refers indeed to two new generations, the pair of puppies I bought almost exactly a year ago, and the generation of more puppies that took place at the beginning of this year.
I wrote when I started the first of the Facebook series that in my seventieth year the process of a retreat into privacy, which had started when coronavirus first raised its head, began to accelerate. The immediate cause was the acquisition of two new puppies, German Shepherds, the same breed as Toby, whom I have had now for over five years, the same breed as Ricky whom I had for nine years from 1998.
The pictures are of the two puppies the day after I got them, which was June 10th last year.
They say that the past comes back to haunt you. I don’t think it haunts. I think that it envelopes you like a warm blanket.
Chris Hall, one of my dearest friends at Oxford, was at my 70th birthday party there. I was seeing him after ten years, for he had been at the last of my 60th birthday celebration in Colombo, a couple of weeks late. That was the last lunch party at the big table downstairs that my father attended, and also there was his doctor, Vimala Navaratnam, who had looked after the whole family with dedication for over forty years. Both of them passed away later that year.
Chris and I kept in touch though we could not meet, and he followed my blog with enthusiasm, sending me encouraging messages. But this time, when we met serendipitously towards the end of our stay, for he was in Aberdeen when I got back from Orkney, he told me that he thought perhaps there was a little too much of gardens on the blog. This was as we travelled down together by train, after he had given me breakfast having met me at the ferry.
I could see what he meant, but how grave the problem was registered only when I looked at the pictures I had been using, and found that there was nothing but fish and flowers for well over a year. And though I have derived enormous pleasure from these, I cannot really expect others to feel the same about them, and I am sure there are others like Chris who wonder at my audacity in expecting them to admire what could well seem the same roses again and again, the same fish in different combinations. I recalled then my father wondering at the enthusiasm my sister and I had for trips to the jungle, wondering why we were so thrilled to see the same elephant again and again.
So I thought I would desist, at least up to a point, and confine myself to just one post a week about the garden, combining with it as I did at the start the water features too. And instead, for the second post on this blog I would go back to my travels, having before nature took over written about the journeys I made in 2022, to Georgia and Rajasthan and Kerala and Croatia, with en route the sheer splendour of Ravenna.
I did not travel so much in 2023, for there were just three trips, and one was to Thailand where I was sedentary, reading and sitting on a beach and talking to Peter Rowe, something I had missed during the coronavirus restrictions. That was such fun, that I repeated it this year, and perhaps I should try to record something of the pleasures of those visits, and the glories of sunset from his balcony and mine.
But now I will talk about the pleasure of my visit to England last summer, leaving here just under a year ago after a dinner party to celebrate the 75th wedding anniversary of my parents.
Having gone the round of the ponds in the main garden, I should mention again the pond by the garage, which I last looked at, and that cursorily, a couple of months back. It continues splendid, except that no lotuses have blossomed there since the host of flowers, white and purple, that appeared in the first few months of the year.
Indeed the plants themselves have died away, but I have not worried too much because the fish are well sheltered by the nets above them, and they are now easier to see. The best sight though is from the side, through the glass in front of my seat there, and as I have said it is great fun to see a host of fish clustered there of a morning, waiting to be fed. The first picture here shows them at the end of March, when I got back from Canada, an angel and two white Oscars with one black one, two tiger barb, a red tetra and a black molly.
I have noted that Kavi moved the four white catfish that were there, for he said they were getting too big for that pond. Sadly both those put in the tank by the dining room have died, both this week after I got back from England. And before the latter death, two days after my return, one of the black catfish in there had also died, shown third with the white one after that. So we are left with just one – though he lurks at the bottom – and two red carp apart from the large white gourami. I rather fear the latter does not tolerate other big fish there, for we have had too many fatalities in that tank.
The other two catfish were put in the waterfall pond, where they are both now quite lively, though one took a long time to emerge from the little hideaway where the catfish lurk. I think all seven black ones have also survived there, and also the Silver Dollar that was moved from the dining room tank.
After the catfish went I thought the tank by the garage could do with a couple of larger fish, so I bought two big black angels to add to the four born at Lakmahal which we had transferred there a few months ago. They all seem to be doing well, though I only see a few at a time, one black one and one white one generally at the front, the others floating along behind them for food put in towards the back. The second picture shows the first two, with a white Oscar to the side, and two red tetra and a tiger barb and a black molly beneath.
The only other casualty I registered during my absence was one of the gourami in the temple flower tree pond. Kavi had not noticed this, so I fear he did not die but was abducted. It made me absurdly sad, for one of my daily tasks had been to count the three gourami there, amongst the white Malavi. To my relief the six gourami in the tank under the ehala tree are all still there, though Kavi thought one had been sick, and I too had noticed him languishing, which is not a good sign. But the rest seem quite happy, along with the red carp and the white Mozambique, and the host of red and orange tetras I added.
A repeat post, since no pictures appeared!
Back home after a fortnight away, I find that it had rained horrendously while I was away, and it still continues to rain. So my morning ventures to the balcony, to feed and admire the fish, have to be short, for even if the rain has stopped the seats are all wet. The seat under an overhang, next to the large pond with the angels, is an exception, and I do have a few moments there when it is not raining, but there have been no lotuses in the pond since I got back.
Despite the incessant rain, the flowers continue to flourish. The red rose bush by the little pond, by which I used to sit first when I came up, is full of blossoms, of different shades, ranging from a deep red to a shade that verges on orange. The reddest of the roses is in the centre of the first picture, with lots of others around it, and lotus leaves to the right and the leaves of the margosa tree behind.
The one pot on the balcony had also done its stuff, and produced a beautiful single rose, a white one larger than any others there. That appears in the second picture, while the next two show the orange blossoms in the long bed at the north of the eastern edge. Those at the further end are light while those at the bottom are a bright orange, though whether these colours will last is uncertain.
All these pictures were taken on the 31st of May, the day after my return. The pink bush between the two orange ones had no blossoms then, but there were some buds and a few days later they burst forth in glory. The other flowers are still there and it is a great pleasure to look at so many colours, red and white and pink and yellow. But I fear they will be gone by the time I am able to sit down up there to relish the scene.
Back home after a fortnight away, I find that it had rained horrendously while I was away, and it still continues to rain. So my morning ventures to the balcony, to feed and admire the fish, have to be short, for even if the rain has stopped the seats are all wet. The seat under an overhang, next to the large pond with the angels, is an exception, and I do have a few moments there when it is not raining, but there have been no lotuses in the pond since I got back.
Despite the incessant rain, the flowers continue to flourish. The red rose bush by the little pond, by which I used to sit first when I came up, is full of blossoms, of different shades, ranging from a deep red to a shade that verges on orange. The reddest of the roses is in the centre of the first picture, with lots of others around it, and lotus leaves to the right and the leaves of the margosa tree behind.
The one pot on the balcony had also done its stuff, and produced a beautiful single rose, a white one larger than any others there. That appears in the second picture, while the next two show the orange blossoms in the long bed at the north of the eastern edge. Those at the further end are light while those at the bottom are a bright orange, though whether these colours will last is uncertain. And indeed whether the light rose will appear today, for it is taking ages to load.
All these pictures were taken on the 31st of May, the day after my return. The pink bush between the two orange ones had no blossoms then, but there were some buds and a few days later they burst forth in glory. The other flowers are still there and it is a great pleasure to look at so many colours, red and white and pink and yellow. But I fear they will be gone by the time I am able to sit down up there to relish the scene.
The pond around the temple flower tree, against the south wall of the garden, abutting on the tortoise enclosure, is also full of white Malavi, many of them born here so they are of varying sizes. Amongst them is one pink tetra, though I do hope there may be at least one other, of the three that were originally there.
The pond is full of platies and guppies, which have been there from the start, and keep multiplying. There were also several grey gourami there, but I have described previously how they all died away. However the three I put there a few months ago have all survived, though I must confess I count them anxiously every morning, as I count the red tetra in the ehala tree pond.
The first picture here shows three Malavi and two gourami, one of them disappearing downward into the bright patch of light on the water. Then there is the pink tetra, with a Malavi by him, and one gourami and one Malavi above. Both those pictures also have plenty of dark guppies, but the third shows some platies, along with a Malavi and a gourami dramatically streaked with sunlight.
On the other side of the little wall is the pink bath tub from the upstairs bathroom at Lakmahal where Kavi has had his big gourami for the last eight or more years. It grew bad tempered and he was told to find a companion, and as I have mentioned his uncle gave me a pair of large black fish which have survived companionably for well over a year now. That tub gets dirty soon, but when it is clear it is a pleasure to see the enormous gourami with the black ones. One is wary and rarely darts out to the space the gourami occupies, but the other is bolder and crosses the tub.
The fourth picture shows the gourami in the biggest space between the cross bars that keep the netting down, for he can jump powerfully. And in the cornermost space, which is near my seat on the other side of the wall, you can see the smaller of the black fish who has crossed over to feed on this side.
And finally I show a pond I never have before, for it is the pool built for Henry the lame tortoise. But it needed little fish to stop mosquitoes breeding, and I enjoy seeing the little ones, notably two delightful sari guppies, feeding of a morning. And recently I caught a group of them in the sunlight that had hit the back end of the tank as the sun rose.
Rajiva Wijesinha 