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Autumn tidying in the garden produced enough clippings to warrant a trip to the Efford Recycling Centre. In exchange for two bags of these and £4 we returned with four firm chair cushions for raising the front passenger seat, and a plinth for the owl in the new arbour.
Towards the end of the afternoon we drove through the forest and stopped at Hatchet Pond
where gulls occasionally took off after food,
and donkeys attempted to share visitors’ refreshments.
When I asked the group in a camper van if they minded the photographs, the gentleman, beaming, replied: “I don’t mind. It’s not my donkey”.
Approaching Brockenhurst on our way home, we deviated to that extension of Highland Water that flows under the A337.
Shadows were cast beneath the trees.
A family and a couple lingered, enjoying the last rays of sunshine.
Tried not to trip over tree roots, probably laid bare when the stream has been in spate.
The usual samples of litter had been left behind, none so brazen as this.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious lamb cobbler, new potatoes, carrots, and Brussels sprouts. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Graves.