On a bright, crisp, afternoon Jackie drove us to Bisterne Close,
where she parked and sat in the car while I wandered into the forest with my camera, rustling the dried autumn leaves, across which the low sun cast long shadows. One lone cow wandered off into the distance. Golden gorse glowed; a few beech and oak leaves lingered on the branches; some fallen limbs bore lichen and fungus; holly berries shone for Christmas.
Jackie photographed a bouncing squirrel
and a pedestrian me.
Ponies were mostly waiting expectantly at the far end of close. What for was unclear.
This evening we dined on well roasted gammon and parsnips; creamy mashed potatoes; piquant cauliflower cheese; firm carrots; and tender green beans, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Comté Tolosan.
This morning I was lulled into enough of a false sense of security to imagine that, although the heavy winds that have beset us during the last two days and the rain had desisted, the storm may be over.
The late or very early blooming gladiolus, bowed but not broken, rested on Delta’s Sarah fuchsia now basking in sunshine.
Other fuchsias, such as Mrs Popple, Hawkshead, and Army Nurse continue to thrive.
As I wandered around in the glinting sunlight which licked the eucalyptus stems, the grasses and cordyline Australis, and the lingering beech leaves, I grew in confidence of an unexpectedly fine day. Madame Alfred Carriere shared the entrance to the Rose Garden with Summer Wine hips, while Paul’s Scarlet still soared above the wisteria arbour. The house formed a bright backdrop to the view from the red carpet rose in the Rose Garden.
The fallen pot and trug were easily righted, which is more than could be said for Aaron’s truck which had broken down as he tried to leave yesterday. After an hour he sought our blessing to leave it where it was, which of course we gave.
After lunch, in the blink of an eye, the rain returned.
A few more minutes’ respite was soon granted, after which the wind and rain continued to do their worst to blow our house down.
For tonight’s dinner Jackie produced a delicious beef and mushroom pie with boiled potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, and runner beans. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the La Repasse.
Late this morning Barry, our chimney sweep and roofer, visited to look at our leaking kitchen roof. He is very busy but, a good friend, will fit us in as soon as he can.
After lunch, with violent winds still blowing, we moved the now covered patio chairs to a more sheltered position beside the house.
This afternoon we enjoyed longer bouts of sunshine between the heavy showers.
Jackie parked beside Holmsley Passage up which I wandered for a while, photographing
the autumnal landscapes.
Jackie made two contributions. The second is “Where’s Derrick” (3).
As it is half-term for schools we have been visited by a number of cyclists, some of whom, with walkers
made use of the footpaths which are all that remains of the railway line axed by Dr Beeching
We continued to Bisterne Close where again Jackie parked and I wandered.
It was the dead birch against the deep indigo sky that tempted me out of the car to photograph additional trees and shadows; bright beech leaves; and old gold bracken.
From her car the Assistant Photographer watched a squirrel, its head drilling rapidly as it gripped the snack it was enjoying.
On our return through Holmsley Passage I communed with ponies in the woodland where
the low sunlight piercing the shadows demonstrated the efficacy of the reflective collars some of these creatures wear to increase their night-time visibility. Notice which of these do not have them fitted. In this age of Covid 19 we rarely see an infant wearing a mask. So it appears to be with foals and collars.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome chicken and vegetable stoup, toast, and spicy pizza, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Trigales.
Work continued on the Rose Garden this morning. We used a metal mallet to straighten the legs of the recent acquired rusty obelisks and hammer them into position.
More fallen leaves from the copper beech tree were swept, gathered up with big hands, and deposited into
black bags in bin subsequently transferred to the compost area. The potted pansies in the above pictures have settled in nicely.
Penstemons and fuchsias continue to thrive.
As seen on the Shady Path there are many more leaves to be collected.
This afternoon Jackie began our Christmas shopping at Otter Nurseries while I sat in the car and read more of Edwin Drood.
Although we had enjoyed the best of the light this morning we then drove into the forest where
trees are turning on Pilley Hill.
At the Lodge Lane road junction
donkeys foraged;
fallen trees stretched across the woodland;
and burnished mushrooms burgeoned beneath golden-brown beech leaves.
Indigo clouds swept across pale pink skies over St Leonard’s Road where
our familiar miniature pony still tagged along with the big girls;
and strutting pheasants trotted across adjacent fields.
This evening we dined on second helpings of Hordle Chinese Takeaway’s tasty fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Corbieres.
Our first, albeit mild, frost of the season left a few fingermarks on the garden this morning.
Despite its leaving specks of icing on the solar lamps with their suitably frosted design, throughout the day we enjoyed enough sunlight, such as that burnishing our remaining beech leaves, for us to be justified in anticipating a little more overnight twinkling. The pond is yet to freeze.
The nasturtium leaves that proudly cupped raindrop bubbles bow down in flaccid surrender;
and the rhododendrons had second thoughts about budding.
Margaret Merrill remained coolly unperturbed.
This afternoon I placed the Dead End Path section into the garden album, and printed the Oval Path and Elizabeth’s bed selection of photographs.
In order to track down a Chinese takeaway open this Monday evening Jackie was forced into a real hunter gatherer foray. Eventually she lit upon The Happy Wok in Pennington whose windows were themselves lit. We enjoyed the meal with which I drank more of the Bardolino.
Ever since she was a small child, Flo has helped her Grannie put up flamboyant Christmas decorations. Festive trees, having priced themselves out of the market last year, are now half the cost they were then. We all got up early to buy one from Ferndene Farm Shop.
It has also become tradition that Grandpa has to be ‘put’ somewhere whilst the ladies create their masterpieces. I was therefore dumped in Vaggs Lane to walk home. As you will know, this was no hardship. I walked the length of this thoroughfare, along Everton Road, and right into Hordle Lane to home.
Burnished beech leaves brightened the sunlit hedgerows along the verges in Vaggs Lane, where a herd of alpacas were outlined by the sunshine.
A Great War memorial stands in Everton Road. The incised names of the Hordle fallen are accompanied by those of the relevant battlefields, some more infamous than others. This morning red roses and cyclamens, and yellow tulips bloomed alongside the wreaths.
The now rather soggy unclaimed bear in Hordle Lane still sits on the wall opposite the children’s nursery, and another tot has dropped the case from her Peppa Pig mobile phone. Further on, an upturned mushroom revealed a pattern of purplish striations.
When I returned home, the front door was furnished with a more joyful wreath than those I had seen earlier. Apart from the dressing, this had been made from foliage from our garden and branches trimmed from the Christmas tree.
By the time darkness had arrived, we had a string of coloured lights in the front garden, and somewhat later the indoor Christmas tree was embellished to Flo’s satisfaction.
We had to dine on a takeaway this evening because the kitchen was full of boxes of decorations. It fell to the Ashley Chinese, The Happy Wok, to provide it. Jackie chose Stella, Flo sparkling water, and I the last of the cabernet sauvignon, to accompany it.
Helen’s comments on yesterday’s post have enabled me to add details of others present in our wedding photograph.
