Month: October 2022

Dripping Rain

As, this morning, a skein of geese honked through clouds leaking liquid streams slithering down our roof tiles and window panes, I was reminded of goose dripping, spread on toast when we were small, and consequently of goose fat.

By lunchtime tentative notes of tweeting songbirds intermittently emerging from the shelter of glistening arboreal foliage merged with the trickling tinkle of plant-pattering precipitation, while sunlight penetrated lingering pearls bejewelling

a proliferation of pelargoniums

varieties of fuchsia;

Absolutely Fabulous roses;

snowy white snapdragons;

long-lasting hollyhocks;

and sky-bound rose hips I fortunately couldn’t reach to dead-head.

This evening we dined on oven cod and chips, garden peas, wallies, and pickled onions, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the merlot. Dillon and Flo ate later.

Ponies On The Road

Causing us some speculation, a straight line of horse droppings ran in front of us along Christchurch Road this morning on our journey to the forest. Wild ponies would not breach the barrier fences even if they could approach near enough; it would be a rather stupid equestrian who would ride a horse along that tarmac – that left a horse and cart.

While we were wondering whether we would catch up with such a vehicle we fell in behind a slow moving line of traffic which suddenly caught up speed. Whatever had occasioned the ponderous pace must have turned off, we thought.

Then we spied a pony and trap conveniently tucked in beside the road. Both the driver and Jackie waited patiently for a lull in the traffic stream.

Soon we found ourselves following the transport from an earlier era, before eventually passing and exchanging waves with the leisurely travellers.

Pannage pigs of the Gloucester Old Spot breed burrowed among the acorn mast among the lower verges of Bull Hill, and along Jordans Lane, where Jackie parked the Modus and I stepped onto the still dry bed of the Pilley lake,

when a loud grunting behind me alerted me to the fact that this second group were clambering down the bank intent on joining

others seeking nourishment.

Gulls, geese, and swans, happily coexisted beside Beaulieu River.

Our return home along St Leonards Road was only briefly delayed by a bout of equine meandering.

This evening we dined on succulent roast chicken; crisp Yorkshire pudding; boiled new potatoes; firm broccoli and cauliflower; crunchy carrots; and meaty gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden, I drank more of the Merlot, and Flo and Dillon abstained.