“I’m Going To Get My Mum”

This morning Jackie ironed my last four shirts which is a double result: firstly I didn’t have to do it and secondly she does it better.

The wind eased through the morning and the afternoon was bright and sunny for us to take a drive into the forest.

Much water lay on the roads and their verges. The terrain on either side of Holmsley Road was waterlogged,

but did not deter dog walkers.

Bubbling pools,

where a month or so back the land was dry, now reflected trees and sky.

As we crossed the Burley Road into an unnamed lane approaching Bisterne Close I noticed a group of ponies foraging among fallen trees that were in various stages of decay. Jackie parked on the verge and I rustled my way down slopes

of fallen leaves,

past reflecting pools of various expanses,

and negotiating stumps and fallen trees,

to mingle with the ponies

who bore the dregsof the recent deluge.

Although one of last year’s late foals this dishevelled creature, larger than any adult Shetland,

after enjoying a scratch against a branch of convenient height, sounded heavy thuds as, with a shrill whinny roughly translated as “I’m going to get my Mum”, it sped past me

in full flight

and, sure enough, returned with its mother

who gave me the eyeΒ made all the more alarming by the bright white centre of the black marking encircling its left orb.

Despite appearances she allowed me to continue as she got on with the serious business of eating.

I bid this family farewell and we made our way towards

Burley where the verges were full of reflecting water,

and to Bisterne Close where ponies shared the road with dog walkers,

and the woodland with each other.

Lime green catkins now swing in the trees, contrasting with autumn’s red berries.

On our way home we diverted to Wootton Bridge where the fast flowing stream has burst its banks

and waterlogged the surrounding sward.

Nearby rocks have become rippling watercourses.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s piri-piri mango and lime chicken served with her splendidly savoury rice topped with omelette and with green beans on the side. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank El Zimbido Garnacha Syrah 2018 given to me for Christmas by Ian.




  1. I’m glad you ‘rustled’ rather than ‘slithered’ or even ‘trembled’ ….. So much water. Is this the end result of Brendan’s visit? (I think it was called ‘Brendan’ but no longer trust my memory on these kinds of things)

  2. Such wonderful photos, Derrick! I liked the bubbling pool and all of the reflections in the water shots–I can’t pick a favorite. That Momma pony looked fierce!

  3. The catkins are very good value. I am surprised that that you managed to stay above ground when everything looks so soggy. I half expected to see a picture from Jackie of a hand sticking out of a pool of water holding up a camera much in the style of the Lady of the Lake and her sword.

  4. Aw, glad the pony found mom! πŸ™‚ Mom, like most moms, looks like she can take charge when need be! πŸ˜‰
    Oh! your water photos are wonderful! Especially enjoy the bubbles and the shimmery water/reflection photos! That second to last photo…so cool!
    Damp ponies/horses…I can smell them from here! πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜€
    HUGS!!! πŸ™‚

    1. Thank you very much, Carolyn. I’ll never forget my Mum slapping the caretaker of a block of flats who had objected to my brother and I walking on the low wall. I don’t remember what he said or did himself! X

  5. Goodness, your countryside is sodden. That blazing little leaf looked like a flame in one of the early pictures and the red pony with the white blaze looks very dignified.

  6. Ironing shirts… now that other half no longer wears them, that’s something I don’t miss… What causes the bubbles? I love the reflections in the water.

  7. And now I can add ‘sward’ to my vocabulary: a nice, Middle English word for grass-covered ground. I had to laugh while seeking its etymology. Every one of the illustrations the Google search engine provided for ‘sward’ was a ‘sword.’ Oops!

  8. Those are such graceful portraits of your equine friends who are surely cognisant of your photographic might that finds expression in your daily chronicle. You have made the most of the overcast and watery outdoors that have ended in moody frames.

    My own homemaker is a connoisseur of ironing and it is to her that I turn to for the well being of my wardrobe. I do keep planning to begin doing it myself like those characters in the stories of Haruki Murakami who somehow are always ironing their shirts apart from cooking spaghetti!

    1. Thanks very much, Uma. We have somewhat unusual divisions of labour – Jackie is far more practical – she is, incidentally reading out what Google has to say about your Japanese author of whom I had not heard.

    1. Thank you very much, Ribana. He did, but I have not seen that occurrence before – normally mares leave their offspring to their own devices while they carry on grazing. It would be fascinating to know of their communication.

  9. I’ve found out how to view your post properly when my WIFI is playing up (or maybe it’s the WP app): to go into WP on my browser.

    Anyway, I could see your photos, so that I could follow the story of the young pony properly. Hopefully, the weather is improving now.

      1. I think we’ve been spared where I am. It’s been raining a bit and it was blustery for a few hours on Tuesday. Anyway, let’s hope there are no more storms.

  10. Whoa, I’d say you sure are wet!! It appears England is sinking by the looks of your pictures.
    The ponies are cute keeping an eye on you, especially the pony that went and brought his mother back!

  11. Those landscapes at the top are so lovely, Derrick. Also, it occurs to me that when one of your favourite photographic subjects is reflections, then it’s a good thing when the land is soaked.

  12. Now I know what catkins look like! (Heretofore, I’d only encountered them in books.) I enjoyed the little anecdote of “I’m going to get my Mum.” The standout of this group of photos is #7. There is a magical quality to how the light catches the colored leaves among the brown ones.

  13. Stel je voor … , je besluit om naar Engeland te gaan: Leuke cottage’s,met rieten daken, in overvloed bloeiende tuinen, zoals die van Derrick J.K., gezellige dorpjes aan haventjes langs de kust, met vele gezellige visrestaurantjes … , wandelen in oerbossen met eekhorntjes, ezels en wilde paarden … Dan regent het … Ik blijf thuis! Wat een bagger in Engeland … Amsterdam, 27 – 8 – 2020
    Oh! Ik vind dat uw kleinzoon op uw lijkt … , ja … , helemaal een kleine Derrick J.K., moet nog even uitvogelen hoe hij heet: Wat een smoeltje … * http://www.friedabblog.wordpress.com *

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