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Our friend Geoff Le Pard had asked, in his comment on yesterday’s post, whether the field at Longslade Bottom had flooded as it had in his youth.
Jackie therefore, via South Sway Lane, drove us out to investigate.
The area, well mowed by resident ponies, simply hosted a few paltry pools. It was frequented by dog walkers, rooks, and the occasional gull.
Trees and figures were silhouetted against the sky.
Gravelled slopes led up, either side of the old railway bridge, to the line that is now a footpath.
Another path led under the bridge.
Autumn leaves still clung to the shrubbery.
On our way home the skies various shades of bright blue and indigo were constantly changing; the virtual black and white over Horseshoe Bottom giving way to a rainbow crossing telephone wires above Brockenhurst,
and golden tinges over Hatchet Pond.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s perfect paprika pork with wild rice and green beans. The Culinary Queen drank sparkling water, and I finished the Arbois.