Today’s weather pattern was again that of sunshine and showers.
This morning Margery and Paul visited to return my copy of “Framley Parsonage’ and to borrow “Can He Forgive Her?” and “The Last Chronicle of Barset”. At this rate our nonagenarian friend will finish reading my Trollopes before I do.
It will come as no surprise to readers of yesterday’s post that I needed a trip to the dry cleaners in New Milton, albeit only for my jacket. After this we took a drive into the forest via Ashley Road where
a rainbow shone its light on a grateful magnolia.
A verge-grazing Shetland pony looked up at Boundary when Jackie clapped her hands to alert her to our presence.
Around the corner lay one more fallen tree.
We were again treated to a rich variety of cloudscapes in watercolour, with or without
Ponies dotted the landscape outside Brockenhurst where I stopped to photograph
a still active railway bridge, when
a pair of cyclists obligingly approached, happy to have enhanced my photograph.
Not so obliging to Jackie’s mind was the driver of the car that added interest to my next one.
That is because she had readied herself to take a silhouette of me under the bridge and he insisted on ruining the shot. She produced this one instead.
Before that she had settled for one including the cyclists, the car, and me
through the rain.
When she photographed me aiming my lens she had thought I was focussed on her. In fact I was making the second of the rainbow pictures above.
Beside the bridge lurch these mossy trees marked with reddle. Many trees are so painted, sometimes with other pigments. I am not sure of the significance of the hues but imagine they must be a foresters’ code for a planned procedure. (Andrew Petcher’s comment below provides a link which answers this point)
They are on the edge of reflecting waterlogged terrain partially fed by
a swollen weed-bearing ditch.
Part of the path to the bridge is now covered by clear water
replenished by raindrops, the descent of which Jackie was photographing.
While returning home via Lymington the cawing of numerous rooks alerted us to the
growing occupation of a rookery. Some of the birds flew back and forth;
others remained on watch.
At times sunlight spilt across the road.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata with which with which she finished the Sauvignon Blanc and I started a bottle of Chateau Berdillot Cotes de Bourg 2018