There was no further rain here today, which remained warm and humid enough to induce drowsiness in
ponies and foals along Holmsley Road as we began our forest drive this morning. The miniature Highland cow wandering along the verge held us up a little as
she decided to cross the road, taking her past Jackie’s open window.
The trunk of a large tree had clearly, until sawn and cleared, spanned Wittensford Lane, the luxuriant hedgerows of which bore
an abundance of eglantine roses, elegant fingers of foxgloves, and hands of honeysuckle.
Half grown piglets pausing, paddling, to partake of muddy gazpacho soup somewhat replenished by yesterday’s rain,
dashed along the verges of Kewlake Lane.
Even one recently shorn sheep along Furzley Lane suffered the panting somnolence exhibited by the ponies earlier.
This evening we dined on racks of pork spare ribs in Maple barbecue sauce on a bed of Jackie’s colourful vegetable rice topped with a thick omelette, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Tesco finest Mendoza Malbec 2020.