bracken – derrickjknight

A Paucity Of Pannage Mast

Last night’s sky was so clear that the Harvest moon lit up the whole garden. I photographed it before I turned on my laptop to listen to the last rites of the second Test match between England and Pakistan.

The pink climber clinging to the trellis in the front garden is just one indication that winter is being delayed. Another is the lack of autumn colour we noticed as we drove around the forest this afternoon.

These sunlit trees on

Hyde Lane, despite the

less than green bracken photographed by Jackie, cling to their viridescent hues.

Much of the moorland bracken, among which ponies pasture, is as we could expect by now. Note that the tail on the last picture in this gallery shows that the bay has received its annual clip at The Drift.

Other ponies, gathered by the flowing ford at Ibsley, promptly left when they realised I was going to focus on them.

There were in fact other wet roads through which vehicles splashed, sometimes forcing others, like us, to wait for them.

So, why mention pannage mast? This is the general term for acorns and the like which pigs are loosed to guzzle up to prevent ponies from eating nuts which are poisonous to them. Some of my readers look forward to this season as do we. We speculate that the reason for the absence of porcine presence since the first few days of September could be linked with the lack of acorns. Maybe they will come later.

This evening we repeated last night’s meal with fresh ingredients. I drank another glass of viña San Juan.

Woodland Ponies

On this first dry day for a while I was able to tramp among ponies

reappearing in the woodland, through which the sun occasionally filtered, dappling the trees. Recent rains have kept the mossy roots shining bright. The tepees of branches are human structures for the benefit of insects and other wildlife.

This evening we all dined on racks of spare ribs in barbecue sauce on a bed of Jackie’s colourful savoury rice, with tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the shiraz.

Back To Autumn

Overnight rain had desisted by this morning, leaving the roads once more waterlogged, yet there was no frost and we were treated to cotton clouds scudding speedily across cerulean skies while splashing our way to Ferndene Farm Shop to buy provisions and a Christmas tree for which Jackie had to return later because there was not room for both me and a seven foot tree in the car.

From Ferndene we continued into the forest via Beckley Common Road.

A trio of ponies dozed unblinking on the verge of Forest Road, further along which the winterbourne stream has filled up again, bearing grasses and reflections on it surface. The low sun lit hummocks and cast shadows across the opposite verges.

Off the Thorney Hill bend of the road,

a few fine fungi had pierced a layer of fallen autumn leaves at the wooded corner of Valley Lane.

The sun penetrated the cover of leafless branches occasionally lighting the foliage yet to fall among the browned bracken, and printed reflections on muddy pools.

During the afternoon the rain beat down once more and the winds shook the garden foliage.

The day was warmer than of late. Could autumn have returned?

This afternoon we dined on pork/apple and pork/chives sausages; creamy mashed potatoes of the the white and the sweet varieties, fried onions, crunchy carrots, tender runner beans and meaty gravy with which Jackie drank more of the Pinot Grigio and I drank Le P’tite Pierre red wine 2022.

A More Pleasantly Changeable Day

This silence-still, sun-bright, blue-sky, scudding-cloud, dappled-forest, dripping-leaved, clattering-chestnuts, wet-roads, reflecting-gutters, swimming-sward, morning had turned overcast by the time we emerged, brunch-sated, from Lakeview Café on our return home.

Sun-flecked tarmac and tree trunks along wet-bracken-flanked Holmsley Passage heard whispering, dripping, earthbound leaves carpeting the forest floor alongside emerging mushrooms and bouncing sweet chestnut shells bursting with fruit.

With golfing apparently rained off, a group of ponies tended the lush greens of Burley golf course.

On the opposite side of the road a solitary pony worked over the outfield beside a cluster of further mushrooms.

Leaves slowly drifted into the reflecting verges of Forest Road;

on the sunny side of which a curly haired grazing foal cast its shadow;

further along a trio of darker equines suddenly decided to cross to the other side.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s wholesome chicken and vegetable stewp with fresh crusty baguettes followed by orange trifle, with which she drank more of the Zesty and I drank more of the Côtes du Rhône.

Autumn Has Arrived

On another day where showers outnumbered sunny intervals, we waited until a limited period of respite before taking an afternoon forest drive.

Here I engaged in conversation with another farmer, also a commoner giving him pasturage rights for his animals. I had seen him shooing away a solitary pony from his two highland cattle. He explained that he had done this because the interloper had been taking the food he

had put down for the cattle. This man had bred his bovines for 60 years in order to keep the breed alive. He has 48, just three of which are free in the forest – these two and a white one.

By the time I returned to the car the blue sky above had turned as cloudy as that above the tree alongside Holmsley Passage and a brief heavy shower ensued.

On the approach to Bisterne Close an occasional pool had filled and was reflecting the surrounding woodland. So squelchy was the area underfoot that it was unsafe for me to venture to far in, either there or alongside the close where

until they had made their way through to a verge further along the road, I needed to photograph ponies from a distance,

and a couple of woodland scenes.

Jackie photographed me making my way towards the ponies.

These were my own pictures of the group;

and this one of Jackie’s, who also pictured

proof that autumn has arrived.

This evening we all dined on bangers and mash; fried onions, cabbage, carrots and gravy. The bangers were a mix of fat meaty herbal sausages and tasty chipolatas. The mash was very creamy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Garnacha from another bottle.

Not Yet Completely Devoid Of Flies

This morning the skies were overcast and the temperature cooler.

After a Tesco shopping trip Jacki and I drove into the forest.

The small lake on Clay Hill, although still bearing reflections was drying , its crumbling banks

dotted with brambles, wild rose hips, and heather,

that Jackie photographed in close-up.

Bracken was beginning to brown; roots were exposed beneath the trees; acorns now dropping presaged the start of pannage; further up the hill more heather purpled the moorland up which a winding road ascended.

Although not yet completely devoid of flies ponies along Bisterne Close had emerged from the depths of the woodland which had been their recent refuge,

Friendly cyclists appreciated Jackie’s allowing them to pass in safety as she tucked the Modus into the verge.

After lunch warm sunshine returned to tempt out a slithering grass snake which Jackie made a good attempt at photographing before it slipped through a crack to safety.

This evening we all dined on Ashley fish, chips, mushy peas and curry sauce; Mrs Elswood’s sandwich gherkins; and Garner’s pickled onions, with which I finished the GSM and no-one else drank.

Frustrated

WordPress has tested my good nature to the limit today. I have struggled to like other posts or my followers comments; I have failed intermittently to comment on others’ posts; I have been unable until now (mid-afternoon) even to begin a new post.

We began the day with a trip to the pharmacy at Milford on Sea for our flu vaccinations – at least these weren’t problematic – and continued to Ferndene Farm shop for provisions, and on to the forest.

Along Wilverley Road the landscape still looked rather parched,

apart from the banks of trees ahead;

the burnished bracken on the moors flanking Holmsley Passage remained many shades of green and gold.

Jackie speculated that the tree trimming on the road outside Burley was to ensure that visitors on our open-topped tourist routes would not be clouted on this section of their journey.

The post box decoration on Tiptoe Road raised a smile from me when I noticed the spider crawling over the seasonal pumpkin.

After two hours during which I had only reached the second picture above, I gave up and made one more attempt before dinner, and polished off the rest like a dream.

The said dinner consisted of Jackie’s delicious lamb and apricot cobbler: the filling was tender, and the cheese and thyme scone topping, firm; the vegetables were boiled potatoes, firm broccoli and cauliflower, and crunchy carrots. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, I drank Château La Mauberte Bordeaux 2020, and the young parents ate later.

The last two lines, omitted by WP yesterday, were added with much difficulty on 4th.

Dinner Deferred

After a visit to the pharmacy in Milford on Sea, Jackie and I took a forest drive.

As we entered the narrow Shotts Lane at a point at which it has no passing space we approached a cyclist speaking with two pedestrians standing across the centre strip which doubles as a grass and weed bed because any vehicle’s wheels have perforce to span it. The bicycle and the three people hugged the hedgerow in order for is to wave as we passed by.

Further along, Jackie sat in the car on someone’s drive while I walked back to take this shot. Twice I needed to follow the example of this trio as I squeezed myself against the shrubbery.

Then the original cyclist, offering a second photo opportunity, whizzed smiling past me.

Cud-chewing camouflaged cattle and calves blended with Bull Hill’s browning bracken.

As it is Dillon’s birthday today we wished to surprise him with a meal at Pilley’s

historic Fleur de Lys. I therefore entered the 11th century pub to make a booking. Unfortunately they do not offer food on Sunday night so this wasn’t possible. I also learned the very sad news that the comparatively new management who took over just as the first Covid lockdown was imposed, and are now faced with the current catastrophic cost of living crisis, will be leaving after about two months. Consequently we will have to postpone our grandson-in-law’s introduction.

Tonight’s dinner was deferred.

Two Out Of Three

This afternoon Jackie drove me into the forest.

Ponies on the verge of Wootton Road were plagued by flies on this hot and humid day following 48 overcast hours of intermittent rain which encouraged some greening of the grass on the common,

where blackberries were looking plumper, as ponies gathered round the trough, the history of which is told in readers’ comments on https://derrickjknight.com/2013/02/27/why-did-the-chicken-cross-the-road/

By the time I had walked across to the drinking water the adult equines had turned to grazing and left one foal slaking its thirst.

Bracken in the woodland along Bisterne Close had perked up, while ponies were clustered together in the shade. There was, however, no escape from the airborne flies.

Shallow puddles of water which drew thirsty drinkers beside Holmsley Passage.

In this oppressive weather ponies need water, shade, and relief from flies. Perhaps they will consider that two out of three is not bad.

Jackie also photographed acorns ready to fall, suggesting pannage – allowing pigs to vacuum them up – may start early.

I had a helpful e-mail from the Happiness Engineers explaining that I have used up my quota of space because of the number and size of my images. I was sent a link to how to optimise these, and tried it out on this post. This involved downloading ImagOptim and giving it a go. Now I don’t know how to check whether it has worked. I’ll sleep on it.

This evening we dined on build your own burgers, with fried onions and egg (as cooked by Jackie); crisp oven chips, and plentiful fresh salad, with which we repeated yesterday’s beverages.

Still Confined To The Passenger Seat

As we sat in a queue at the Brockenhurst level crossing this morning I photographed the dry grasses alongside.

We were on our way to Streets, the shop which has everything. Jackie took this location photograph, whilst I

focussed on the windows when we parked outside it.

My more able bodied Chauffeuse also photographed the fungus decorating the oak tree shown above because that required a disembarkation.

Jackie was able to buy wasp foam and wasp powder; and surgical spirit, which may flummox our American readers as it did most of the staff of Streets until one said “isn’t that what they call rubbing alcohol?” “Yes”, replied Jackie who had begun by Googling “rubbing alcohol”, which had been what Dillon had requested.

Our now sparse open tracts of land, normally occupied by grazing ponies, are left empty, except for this one on the edge of Beachern Wood which hosts

just one mare and foal perhaps taking a chance on being able later to

squeeze among the others already clustered for shelter among the trees.

Others, like these in The Coppice at Brockenhurst, find individual shade.

Beside Beachern Wood ancient banks of high hedgerows enjoy diffused light.

On our way towards Wilverley a determined troop of ponies advanced, perhaps in search of their own refuge.

This afternoon I read another couple of chapters of Naipaul.

We dined this evening on Jackie’s well-filled beef pie; crisp fried potatoes; firm carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli, with meaty gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegarden; I drank more of the Bordeaux; Flo and Dillon drank water.