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Forget-me-nots are now blooming throughout the garden, especially, like these, springing up through the paths.
Our resident robin began the day in the shrubbery before taking up his station and serenading us in the weeping birch.
We spent a sunny morning that began quite chilly, but managed to reach temperatures in double figures, driving around the forest.
The first stop was
Given the restrictions applied to activities there I can only assume that the numerous muddy, rutted, tracks leading to it had been made by thirsty ponies.
Lying off Pound Lane on the way to Ringwood, this pond, with its choppy wavelets slapping and bubbling against the banks, looked attractive enough,
although the surrounding moorland was pretty wet.
Cyclists were out in their numbers speeding across the moorland roads and the winding lanes. Some, in large groups, switched from single file to two and three abreast in what seemed a rather aggressive attempt to hold drivers back. At one point the third in a trio headed straight for Jackie who, not speeding anyway, had already slowed down.
I wondered whether the man in the red jacket had noticed the ponies to his left.
This spot is not far from Burley at which we arrived before most shops had opened. The village’s pair of geese patrolled the rather empty car park.
10 a.m. is the usual opening time. Magpie Antiques already welcomed visitors,
as had Burley Fudge which, after sampling the wares, Jackie patronised.
In the forecourt of the antiques shop stands an ice cream stall. This photograph is for Maximus Octavian who likes blue ice cream.
Honey Lane in Burley Street is as enticing as ever.
Horses in the corner field to the right of the entrance still wear their winter rugs.
At Bramshaw donkeys shared the task of cropping the grass verges with ponies of differing sizes.
Magnolias are blooming throughout the villages. This one near these animals is rather splendid.
We took a diversion around the bottleneck that is Lyndhurst during the holiday seasons.
Along Bolderwood Road I debarked and wandered among the trees, crunching on the dry leaves underfoot, admiring the long shadows, and examining the fallen trees and crumbling stumps.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious lamb jalfrezi, special fried rice and vegetable samosas; followed by apple pie and custard. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Beaujolais.