This afternoon we took a crisp sunshine forest drive.
Jackie waited in Brownhills car park while I wandered along the
largely waterlogged roadside verges for a while.
This was a day for family walks. While certain spots were decidedly overcrowded, lesser known areas like Bisterne Close, where Jackie parked the Modus, were safe enough.
I trampled on the waterbeds that were the soggy autumn leaves.
As always, some trees were lichen laden; others stretched gnarled limbs to the skies; many, broken, lay where they fell – among them
basking ponies slumbered or chomped on holly leaves.
One fallen giant gathering foliage was decidedly waterlogged.
Many roadsides, like this one at South Gorley, were more like lakesides.
Nearby, I was soon surrounded by silently demanding donkeys desiring to supplement their diets with anything I might have brought them.
One solitary Gloucester Old Spot sploshed, salivating over squishy mast, at the bottom of Gorley Hill, well irrigated by a Winterbourne stream running down it.
Throwing long shadows, cattle grazed on the slopes above,
while hazy sun picked out inquisitive field horses and slender willow sprays.
On our return along Hordle Lane lingering sunset illuminated lines of leafless oaks.
This evening we dined on crisp oven fish and chips, green peas, sage cornichons, and pale ochre pickled onions, with which we both drank white Cotes de Gascoigne 2019.