Creepy Woods

I have been without a watch for a day or two. My Tissot needed a new strap and my Longines a battery. This morning Jackie found time to drive me to Robert Allan Jewellers in New Milton to have replacements fitted. We left the timepieces in the shop and drove into the forest before collecting them later from this excellent establishment which does the job quickly and efficiently.

Pastel skies streaked over the browning moorland flanking

the ever-crumbling Holmsley Passage

alongside which wild rose hips

rise above the rippling, reflective, stream.

From the passage we crossed Burley Road into Bisterne Close beside which the woods took on a decidedly creepy persona.

Beech nuts lined the forest floor.

The ditches

and the verge pool are filling up with the heavy rainwater we have been receiving lately.

A Travis Perkins lorry delivering bags of sand brought us to a halt. The driver was most apologetic. He had driven as close to the house entrance as he could, and would only be a few minutes. He underestimated how long it would take to tote one bag at a time up the drive. Having once been stuck on a verge with a similar drop to the one she would have to risk if we didn’t wait, my Chauffeuse reversed the Modus and took a longer back to New Milton.

This afternoon Dave, the plumber, visited to advise us on the replacement for our macerator which seems to be developing a death rattle; and Anne from Kitchen Makers advised that the handles we had chosen for some of our various new cupboards were not available and invited us to choose alternatives. After ordering the masticator of human refuse from Screwfit we called in on Anne and selected alternative grips.

This evening we dined on oven fish and chips, baked beans, and cornichons pickled in chilli. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Fleurie.


  1. There is a sense of freedom that comes with being ‘watchless’. Beautiful photographs that reflect your keen eye for colour, detail and texture. Hats off to Jackie for reversing along that narrow road!

  2. Beautiful photos–and the woods do look creepy as they’re inhabited by the tree root creatures who also live in the water.
    I had to look up macerator—and then wish I hadn’t. ?

  3. Yes, creepy is the correct adjective. Glad you got your watches fixed quickly. Alas, the last family jeweler in our small town closed last year due to a well deserved retirement.

    1. Thank you very much, Lavinia – especially for the link. Rowena’s work is stunning and the text engaging. Such skill in others is why I didn’t pursue book illustration 🙂

  4. Oh my gosh, Fish and Chips with beans, sooo delicious! Jackie is a wonderful cook, Derrick! The passage over the stream does look a bit worn out. Your black and white photos make the forest look like a scene in a horror movie, well done! A Macerator must be what we call an Insinkerator or Garbage Disposal. Fun differences, have a great weekend. ???

  5. Love the ripply reflection photos!
    I find the woods beautiful and magical. But your B&W photos bring textures, shadows, wonderings…and a creepiness, for sure. 😮 Ooh, wonder what lays amongst the trees! 😮
    YAY! Lots of good workers in your life today!
    (((HUGS))) and glad you know what time it is again! 😉 ⌚️
    “I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.” – Henry David Thoreau

  6. An appropriate poem I wrote 14 months ago Derrick ..

    “A Tree Roots’ Exposed Colours”

    During the blustery tempest light night
    The wolves were howling with fright
    And the arctic winds blew and blew
    But the raging storm did not phase you
    Even though your footings were open and bare
    Skinless bones exposed to the cold air

    Yet still you steadfastly resist the blizzards’ abuse
    Defiant and strong, no matter what the news
    Valiantly nurturing your mother-tree with true colours
    And then daringly feeding your sisters and brothers

  7. The Travis Perkins lorry delivering bags would make a fun, yet difficult puzzle. Funny, I used to never be able to go without wearing a watch. Now that I think about it, I haven’t worn one in five or six years. Fish and chips! Yummy!

  8. I love the gorgeous autumn colours in the the image on Holmsley Passage.

    We had quite a few nuts on one of our horse chestnut trees but the other had none. I was waiting for them to drop so I could collect them but I think something got there before me because all I’ve found is one!

    I don’t like spiders and was told that a few conkers in the house would keep them at bay because they don’t the odour. I usually rely on spider repellent spray, they don’t like that either.

    Your supper is making me think about my lunch – perhaps I will have the same.

  9. Initial landscape images are very nice but the woods take a definitely creepy hue. It seems to have been a day for repairs. Good that most things were resolved.

  10. Reading about getting your “watch attended to” made me think about whether you could even do that right now in Auckland with our lockdown – I don’t wear a watch but I thought if I did, it probably couldn’t be attended to. A whole raft of things can’t be attended to!
    I was talking to a friend of mine on the phone and we talked about a whole gambit of things “we can’t get done…” including earlier in our lockdown, she went to use her car and the battery was dead! One hellva of a performance to get that attended to – and now she tries to drive it weekly, somewhere of course – not really very far as “we shouldn’t” … I don’t have a car.

  11. Quite a day you had! And so poetically described. I can see you at your computer, brain bubbling with beautifully blogged words- ah I love your alliterations! – “ rise above the rippling, reflective, stream.” I hope the photo uploading was easier last night than the ones before.

  12. Your mention of the need for watch batteries and etc. reminded me that I stopped wearing a watch when I began varnishing, primarily for safety reasons; there’s too much on a boat that can catch rings, watches, and so on and do damage. Now, I haven’t worn one in thirty years or so, and don’t miss it at all. As my grandparents said, I work from “kin to cain’t” — from when I can see by daylight until I can’t. What the hour is makes no difference at all.

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