Tag: banks

Honey Lane Deer

This morning we paid a visit to Ferndene Farm Shop, purchased three bags of compost, eggs, and salad items, then continued on a forest drive.

We turned off Pound Lane on the approach to Burley, where

Jackie parked beside the entrance to Honey Lane in order for me to test my knees on uncompromising terrain.

The height of the banks on the sides of this ancient path is indicative of its age.

The hooves of these work horses in an adjacent field were at my eye level.

As I set off down the lane I glimpsed what looked like a herd of deer dashing across in the distance. Realising that if I could reach the level of the fields I might be able to get a bead on them from a rusting five barred gate, I had a choice to make.

I could walk back to the Modus, situated where the smooth slope led to the gate, or I could climb up the root entangled rough incline. Regular readers will know which option I took. Surprisingly, I made it.

I was rewarded with a sight of the milling herd.

Now, if I made my way further along might I discover a different angle? How was I to do this?

Fortunately ponies had forged an albeit precarious track down the knobbly bank. Striving to avoid brambles and holly, I stumbled along it.

This gave me my different viewpoint. Until a snorting clopping from behind alerted both me and the now scarpering cervine crew to the approach of

two friendly equestriennes with whom I enjoyed a pleasant conversation gleaning the information that the deer were regular daily visitors who were quite problematic when they returned in darkness.

This afternoon Jackie continued planting and weeding the garden. My minimal contribution was trimming the lawn edges and carting some refuse to the compost bins, until I was relieved by a most welcome visit from Shelly and Ron enabling us to catch up for Covid time.

This evening we dined on succulent roast duck with crispy skin, boiled potatoes, crisp Yorkshire pudding, crunchy carrots, tender cabbage and runner beans, with tasty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank more of the Malbec.

More Young Life

Jackie spent the morning and part of the afternoon in the garden. Later she drove me into the forest for a short trip.

Ponies cast their shadows on the sward beside Holmsley Road. One enjoyed a good scratch.

Two mares suckled their foals. In the first picture the youngster is in the process of rising for a feed. The adults are so ungainly when they heave themselves upright that I was quite surprised at the nimbleness of the little one. The mother ignored the flies crawling over her muzzle. The grey became a little self-conscious at my approach; unplugged her infant; and moved off. Her persistent progeny latched on from the other side. I left them in peace.

While Jackie waited in the Modus I took a walk down the far end of Forest Road outside Burley as far as the very dry ford and back.

The high banks and exposed roots at each side of the lane betray its ancientness.

The stream is so very dry that much of the gravel bed is exposed; reflections on the shallow surface mingle with the small strip that does contain a smattering of liquid; and the depth gauge stands proud of solid ground.

I was not the only photographer focussed on groups of small Highland cattle on the outskirts of Bashley where a calf was learning to forage.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata; pepperoni pizza; onion, tomato, and mozzarella salad; and juicy ratatouille, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Negotiating The Levels

Today’s weather was dull, dry, and warm.

This afternoon we ventured into the forest, finding ourselves in MacPenny’s Garden Centre where Jackie shopped for a climbing hydrangea and sat in the car with her puzzles while I wandered around the open garden.

Offering free access all the year round with proceeds of donations dedicated to the National Garden Scheme, I have to say that this splendid facility was looking very much in need of care. A notice at the entrance warns of uneven surfaces which need negotiation, but my impression is that these are more precarious, the steps lacking handrails once in place.

It is of course comparatively early in the year. Last year I spoke to a gentleman volunteer who was tending some of the beds. Today there were heaps of compost awaiting spreading, but no real signs of activity.

Nevertheless shrubs such as camellias,

rhododendrons,

and magnolias bloomed happily, while

hellebores and

snakes head fritillaries flew the flags for smaller species.

A small tree I didn’t recognise

bore pendulous fruit.

One was never very far from a bench

or steps, most of which I thought best avoided.

Paths wound around and between banks offering vistas on different levels.

Rotting stumps made offerings to the garden ecology;

a probably currently redundant hose lay coiled on a leaf-laden path;

branches of naked trees writhed against the skies.

Any readers concerned about my safety may be reassured by the walking stick that Elizabeth gave me for my birthday last year which does wonders for my balance.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s well-filled toothsome beef pie; roast potatoes and butternut squash; crunchy carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, and Brussels sprouts, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Cotes de Bourg.