On a cool, drier, afternoon of intermittent sunshine Jackie and I took a forest drive to the east of the forest.
Ditches along Sowley Lane were filled with clear water reflecting clusters of primroses on the sloping banks. The first pair of the images in this gallery are mine; the second, Jackie’s.
Pheasants squawked raspingly in the adjacent fields, occasionally dicing with death along the road and the verges. Jackie’s is the fourth photograph in this set.
Our familiar equine group were still present here.
Oilseed rape now covers the fields alongside this lane and
St Leonard’s Road, still bearing burgeoning blackthorn bushes,
above which gnarled naked oaks brushed scudding cotton clouds permitting patches of blue to peek through.
Later, I watched the Women’s Six Nations rugby match between Italy and England.
This evening we all dined on spicy, salt and pepper, and tempura prawn preparations; Jackie’s colourful savoury rice; duck spring rolls; and a mix of runner and green beans, and mange touts, with which I drank Reserva Privado Chilean Malbec 2022.
With a weak sun periodically lifting the grey of the day, after a shop at Tesco Jackie and I drove into the forest, where we found reflecting pools continuing along the lanes and verges,
such as those of Bisterne Close;
Forest Road, where one rather bewildered gull looked bemused as a flock of others took off when we arrived;
and Beckley Common Road, along which the worst potholes have actually recently been filled.
This latter road also harbours discarded wheelbarrows beside mossy roots like those on the bank at the other end of
Bennets Lane from
The White Buck pub.
Another wrecked van has been dumped on the path to a house off Molsley Passage. I hope the residents take comfort from the
golden gorse landscape they can look out on.
Currently the ubiquitous blackthorn rivals the splendour of the gorse.
Although we are certainly seeing harbingers of spring, ponies like this one on Bisterne Close are retaining their shaggy winter coats.
This evening we all dined on Jackie’s tasty penne Bolognese with Parmesan cheese. I added Scotch Bonnet sauce to mine. The Culinary Queen and Ian both drank Blue Moon and I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.
This is the view that, a couple of days ago, prompted me to wander round the garden with a camera. By the time I got around to it the sun had fled along with its shadows.
So I had another go this morning.
In particular I was keen to capture such blossom as had survived last week’s gales. These include the towering Amanogawa cherry; a more normal pink one; and burgeoning crab apple.
After lunch Jackie and I took a forest drive where there was not much
sign of life until we came across a trio of somnolent donkeys adorning the verge of Tanners Lane.
All bore small patches of skin exposed from torn tufts of hide;
one carried a cross upon its back.
I wandered a little further down the lane, photographing
blackthorn and
bluebells on a bank beneath a tree from which emanated sweet birdsong, the ambience being somewhat soured by the oppressive pong of muck spreading.
The most awake donkey ambled down to join me in the shade.
This evening we all dined on moist roast chicken; flavoursome pork and apple sausages; crisp roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding; soft cabbage; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, and tasty gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Côte’s du Rhône.
This morning I worked more on the ideas for the logo I am hoping to submit. As I will not be focussing on this work in progress until it is done, I decided to show another logo I produced for Sam’s Ocean Row. The picture is missing from the post on which I originally displayed it. I therefore recovered the pictures for
This was the most difficult yet, because it was of the Attempt Block Recovery type, and the attempt failed until I found the pictures in my iMac Photos and added them all anew. I have had to use the header picture to show the logo. Yes, these problems are becoming infuriating.
were more straightforward options, just needing to be converted to Block edit.
After lunch the morning’s steady rain, although the wind was still blustery, made way for warm sunshine, so, after a Tesco shop, Jackie and I took a late afternoon forest drive.
This is blackthorn time – its white blossom presaging the advent of next month’s may. Most of that lining hedgerows has now been shaved by cutting machines, but some along St Leonard’s Road have escaped the razor’s edge.
The fourteenth century erect ruins of the road’s eponymous grange with its aubretia topped stone wall was now sun-kissed history, a tribute to stonemasons of six hundred years ago.
This evening we all dined on oven fish, chips, onion rings, and garden peas with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Coonawarra red wine.
Bellowing cattle; creaking branches; squawking pheasants, intermittently punctuated the otherwise silent chill of the early morning air carrying cold gusts across the high ground of Braggers Lane as, after a Ferndene Farm shop visit, Jackie parked and
I wandered down the road
focussing on the bucolic landscapes on either side.
A relaxed pheasant was undisturbed by a learner motorcyclist wheeling by.
I aroused the interest of the residents of the pig farm near Ripley when I photographed them,
a sawn tree trunk contributing to the local ecology which had helped to nurture a blackthorn bush opposite.
This afternoon our nephew John visited with his brother-in-law Faizal to collect various items of furniture surplus to our requirements since our new cupboards were fitted.
Later today I received a comment from Lin Craig who had found and bought in Chichester one of Jackie’s Aunt Doreen’s paintings. My correspondent, who had found her name on my blog, sought confirmation that Doreen was the artist. I was able to provide this by sending a link to one of ours.
This evening we repeated last night’s meal with which I drank more of the Douro.
Yesterday evening, the first of the new Covid lockdown relaxations, we dined alfresco at the Lamb Inn in Nomansland.
Outside the pub John, the owner of a coach and horses, and his friends had stopped for refreshment. Our timing was perfect. We may have been somewhat early for our booking, but, had that not been the case we would have missed a treat,
and I would not have had this photo opportunity.
This remarkably disciplined team, at the quietest commands from their driver, executed a perfect turning circle and trotted off round the bend in the direction of Landford.
Jackie also photographed the scene outside the pub, the departure of the team;
and ponies on the green;
as did I, with the war memorial in the top right hand corner.
As we were early we drove to Fritham to watch the clouds breaking up over the landscape.
By the time we were seated the sun was in full view, and the temperature 10C, which is the warmest it has been for several days.
Jackie enjoyed focussing on the hanging baskets, cherry blossom, magnolia, hand sanitiser, the invitation to use the patio door for toilets;
and of course our choices of meal, of which hers was extremely good chicken madras, accompanied by flavoursome rice, mint yoghurt, and mango chutney. I am averse to pub curries because I don’t expect them to taste like the real thing. I could tell from the aromas that I was wrong about this one, which was as good as my Culinary Queen said it was. My well filled steak and ale pie, chips, and peas were equally good. We both chose choice ice cream sundae for dessert. I drank Doom Bar and Jackie drank Carlsberg. As will be seen by all my undone buttons I did not need the layers with which I had come prepared.
On our return home through Bramshaw we needed to wait for a peacock to leave the tarmac and wander across the green in the direction of a confusion of Guinea fowl. Nearby a leather-lipped pony chomped on blackthorn.
We reached Hordle Lane in time to watch the sun subside in the west.
Elizabeth joined us for dinner this evening, which consisted of Jackie’s scrumptious cottage pie with a cheese topping; crunchy carrots; tender cabbage; firm cauliflower, and meaty gravy. Mrs Knight drank Hoegaarden and my sister and I drank Mendoza Malbec 2019.
After lunch today I scanned the next five of Charles Keeping’s idiosyncratic illustrations to Charles Dickens’s ‘Martin Chuzzlewit’, displaying the artist’s liquid line in expressive portraiture.
‘Martin and his friend followed them to the door below’
‘On his livid face was one word – Death’
‘Whole troops of married ladies came flocking round the steps’
‘ ‘Pinch him for me, Cherry, pray,’ said Mercy’
‘The agent was swinging backwards and forwards in a rocking-chair’
Soon afterwards we set out on a short forest drive.
Pearly blackthorn still drapes the hedgerows. We noticed a meringue version at East End; a cascade behind a cock pheasant on Sowley Lane; and scoops of cream alongside St. Leonard’s Road.
Also at East End the pale blue lightly-clouded sky provided a backdrop for bare birches, skeletal oaks, and a yachting weather vane.
Oaks along Sowley Lane have bowed to years of prevailing winds from the Solent, beyond which is the Isle of Wight, creating the third layer in the rape field image. Screeching gulls, excited by the soil-churning of a distant tractor, advanced inland – silhouetted dark against the sky, and light against a line of birches.
While I photographed bright purple aubretia and gold and cream lichen decorating the old stone wall of St Leonard’s Grange,
a passing car flattened a hen pheasant, roughly in the centre of the picture, upon which a ravenous crow immediately alighted. Disturbed by the cyclist, it did not stay for its close-up.
This evening we reprised Jackie’s lemon chicken and egg fried rice meal, with which she drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I drank Recital Languedoc Montpeyroux 2018.
We woke this morning to frost on the kitchen extension roof and ice on the water features. The day continued cold and overcast with a top temperature of 7C.
The quotation from Christina Rossetti’s ‘Spring’ given by Libre Paley in
my copy of her poems illustrated by Florence Harrison, published by Blackie and Son 1n 1910, with an introduction by Alice Meynell. Many of the entries are illustrated with full page tipped in colour plates protected by tissue sheets. Others, like ‘Spring’ are topped and tailed by line drawing vignettes.
This gave me the idea of intermittently adding an example to my normal posts, beginning with this one. Thank you for the inspiration, Libre.
A little later, Francesca, from Kitchen Makers, visited to measure and advise on our potential next house refurbishment projects.
After lunch we visited the Pharmacy at Milford on Sea, and went on for a drive.
Pennington Church has a bright crocheted banner along its front hedge.
A fallen tree lies in the stream that reflects branches still intact overhead and is crossed by the Boldre end of Church Lane. I stood on the bridge and photographed some of the
creamy blackthorn froth that currently lathers the spring hedgerows.
A pair of bay ponies slaked their thirst and satisfied their hunger on the edge of the lake on Jordan’s Lane, adding their reflections to those of the surrounding trees and the nearby buildings. The dominant member of the partnership tossed her head and sprayed water in the direction of her companion, as if to say “keep off my gazpacho”.
This evening we dined on oven battered haddock and chips, garden peas, pickled onions, and gherkins, with which we both drank Conch y Toro Casillero del Diablo Sauvignon Blanc 2020.
The earlier third of the day was overcast but warm.
On my way through the garden to set out on a walk down
Downton Lane
I photographed several newly opened tulips,
one of which bore a sleepy bee.
Even 30 m.p.h. on our eponymous winding lane is probably too fast at any time, yet it seems necessary to reinforce the limit with plenty of notices along the way.
Prolific primroses,
golden dandelions,
dancing daffodils,
and buttery celandines bear out Susan Hill’s view of spring as ‘the yellow season’ expressed in ‘The Magic Apple Tree’.
Along with hardy white daisies
and rambling purple vinca, they decorate the burgeoning verges,
while bristling blackthorn
adorns the hedgerows.
A felled tree hosts ageing tree fungus.
The downward stretch of Downton Lane is a mostly manageable gently sloping descent.
I turned back at the steepest bend
and made my way home.
A pair of friendly cyclists, two abreast, had at least crossed to the other side as they passed me but I did wonder whether I should carry an estate agent’s snazzy measuring device to ensure a safe distance in these self-isolating times.
On 27th March Jackie had begun revamping the Oval Bed which she photographed.
Later this afternoon she produced images of her finished work.
She also photographed these leaves of crocosmia and day lilies,
and aroused bronze fennel setting off to soar above prize primroses and primulas.
This evening we dined on roasted sausages and new potatoes served on a bed of fried onions; a soft melange of cabbage and leeks; tender runner beans; and crunchy carrots with tasty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Benguela Bay Shiraz 2018.
Jackie’s having to add a little oil to the sausages because they held no fat reminded us of the gristly and cereal-filled apologies that had put us off bangers for life when we were young. Walls offerings were the anathema of our childhood. It was in France that I first experienced sausages with sufficient meat content.
Aaron is continuing to work as long as he can. This very sensible proprietor of A.P. Maintenance has taken advice and uses his plentiful common sense. We leave the gate open for him so he doesn’t have to touch it and he knocks on the window to announce his arrival. He keeps well away from us, doesn’t come into the house, and brings his own refreshments.
Jackie photographed him reading the list of tasks that she has taped to the inside of the kitchen window.
Blackthorn lines the hedgerows of
Hordle Lane, along which I walked after lunch as far as the paddock and back.
Because the overnight temperatures at the moment are close to freezing, the horses still wear their protective rugs.
Daffodils still brighten the verges, but
the drying ditches are lined with carelessly lobbed bottles, cans, and food packaging.
Arable fields flank the winding lane;
some are divided by hedges and trees sculpted by prevailing winds.
Pine cones cling to branches before eventually dropping to the ground.
It is now two or three years ago that a young teenage girl died in a car accident on this site. Her mourners keep her memory alive.
There wasn’t much reduction in traffic along the lane today;
a cheery cyclist kept his distance as we exchanged greetings;
I was slightly nervous about whether this group of four pedestrians and a dog maintained the requisite distance from me as we passed. I imagine they lived together.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy hot chilli con carne with a mix of brown and white boiled rice. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Mezquirez.
