An arboreal casualty of the recent gales with its sawn branches along New Lane has almost obliterated
a sign warning of riders on the road.
Some equestriennes, like this woman crossing Wootton Common, were out on the moors, perhaps skirting the Remembrance Day parades.
Colourful autumn landscapes flanked Lyndhurst Road,
further along which, fenced woodland to our left had suffered more fallen branches;
to our right stretched fields on which distant domesticated horses grazed;
forest ponies with one growing foal enjoyed the freedom of the road and its verges,
beyond which a variety of cattle basked in the balmy weather as I stood without the need of a jacket.
As we neared Burley a pair of Oxford Sandy and Black pigs snuffling for mast brought intrigued drivers to a watching standstill.
Even as we neared midday the Holmsley Passage landscape
bore twinkling, lingering, dewdrops.
A trio of the many cyclists enjoying the weather crossed the junction with the disused train track, its path one of the consequences of the Beeching era.
Those commemorated at the Remembrance Day parades mentioned above would never enjoy such post-war autumnal days.
This evening we dined on succulent roast chicken; flavoursome sage and onion stuffing; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower and broccoli; tender runner and green beans; and meaty gravy, with which I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon, Jackie drank diet cola, and Flo drank water.