Garden And Forest

Today was largely overcast, yet very warm. This morning, entertained by trilling birdsong, I carried out a dead heading session; the scents of a multitude of plants pervaded the garden even more as the warmth increased when I stepped out after lunch to walk around it.

I photographed a day lily, numerous roses, two clematis, poppies, a yellow bottle brush plant and a white solanum, all of which bear titles in the gallery.

Later, Jackie drove us to the north of the forest.

Almost the first signs of life we saw were ponies lingering leisurely along the road at North Gorley

and cattle giving drivers an opportunity to rest on the road to Hyde.

We admired the view from Abbotswell Road, on a

verge of which a squirrel hid with its mouth full. I’m not sure who nibbled the tree in the foreground.

Driving down Blissford Hill is always a bit nerve wracking because it is necessary to get up speed to the dappled area beneath the trees in order to climb up the very steep slope, hoping not to encounter another vehicle coming down.

We hope to arrive at the wider top where dog walkers are enjoying the levelling out of the surface.

Donkeys are usually in evidence outside the school at Hyde. Today they were accompanied by a number of foals. The last two photographs in this gallery are Jackie’s.

On our way home a helpful Jay pointed the way to Ringwood.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s very tasty liver and bacon casserole; mashed swede and potatoes sweet and white; and carrots, cauliflower and Brussels sprouts flavoursome and al dente, with which I drank Chilean reserva privada Malbec 2022.

Thatching With Cider

After a shop at Tesco this dreary grey morning Jackie and I drove up to Hockey’s Farmyard Shop for lunch.

A few ponies foraged on the moorland flanking Holmsley Passage. while a familiar pair harnessed to their trap trotted down the hill.

Well before noon weekend traffic illuminated headlights along the Burley Road at the top of the Passage.

Thatching had been begun at The Elm Tree on Hightown Road and some wit had chosen to place a banner advertising Thatchers cider across the work. (access the gallery with a click on any image for enlargements) The thatchers themselves had clearly taken Sunday off but the handwritten notice proclaimed that the pub remained open. Soon after the new owner took over this establishment last summer the ground floor was flooded. The local residents set to and participated in the clearance work.

While I photographed the thatching Jackie focussed on a mossy roof.

As usual a number of donkeys abounded in this northern part of the forest. Jackie produced the first of these images at Ibsley, where I photographed the third,

and another trimming a hedge on

Blissford Hill where two clusters of the currently ubiquitous catkins can be seen.

As we joined Roger Penny Way it seems scraps of a metal fence have been blown up a bank.

On our way back down this road a troop of ponies ambled across it.

Ian returned to Southbourne for work this evening and was sent home with a doggie bag prepared by the ladies as he was unable to stay for dinner which consisted of Jackie’s wholesome cottage pie; crunchy carrots; tender runner beans and stem broccoli, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Saint-Chinian Langudoc- Roussilon 2021.

A Cervine Spectre

Jackie was up in the dark this morning, in time to photograph

our first smattering of snow before the rain washed it away.

This afternoon we drove to Crestwood in Lymington to complete the paperwork and pay a deposit on our new sitting room flooring which will be laid after Christmas. We continued on to the north of the forest by way of

Roger Penny Way where

the gloom could not conceal the burnished gold of bracken

and autumn leaves.

Among the fallen trees

a skeletal cervine spectre remained tethered beside a moss-coated log.

Blissford Hill was not the only thoroughfare becoming waterlogged enough for arboreal reflection.

The pannage season has been extended. Pigs dashed towards us on

Hyde Hill where Jackie parked the Modus ahead of the

billowing sounder, too fast for me to keep up with.

Suddenly they dashed off piste and disappeared into a soggy field.

I needed to wade through sucking mud to reach the gate.

A somewhat perplexed freckled Shetland pony, sharing its field with

two be-rugged horses and an oak tree, observed the porcine proceedings.

Many thatched cottages, like this one at North Gorley, were able to admire their coiffure in their weedy green pools.

Since our dinner was being slow-roasted while we were out, I had no qualms that I might have been eating the shoulder of one today’s snuffling pigs with crispy crackling, Yorkshire pudding, creamy mashed potatoes, crunchy carrots, and tender cabbage with most tasty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Fleurie.