cloudscapes – Page 3 – derrickjknight

A Murmuration

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS GIVE ACCESS TO LARGER PICTURES WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

An underground problem with installation of the new phone line required further attention today. This necessitated a visit from another engineer who completed the task.

Jackie then drove us around the forest in a very wet late afternoon.

Much rain has fallen during our weekend away. Familiar pools have returned to the forest floor.

The moorland in the rain took on a dramatic aspect as the clouds unloaded their precipitation.

Between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu, the River Lymington has burst its banks.

Sunset is early at this time of the year;

it is a reflection of the different light today that this is the same clump of trees beside Hatchet Pond that I photographed at virtually the same time from a slightly different angle yesterday.

As we waited at the level crossing on the approach to Lymington, an elliptical disc that was a murmuration of starlings slid around the skies.

This evening we dined on roast lamb with roast potatoes and crunchy carrots and cauliflower. I drank Clervigny Arbois, 2014

Indigo, Sepia, Lightning

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE; SMALLER CLUSTERS GIVE ACCESS TO GALLERIES.

The four of us brunched today at Beachcomber cafe on the cliff top at Barton on Sea, within sight of The Isle of Wight and The Needles.

The day’s ever-changing light laid a haze over the ponies on Barton Common. Although these animals roam freely like any other New Forest pony, for their own protection, they are fenced along the road through to the coast.

Various walkers cast their shadows across the beach.

I am not sure of the purpose of the stationary working boat that rested on the sun-slashed ocean surface beneath the indigo skies.

The Beachcomber was as well patronised as usual; the food was good, and the service efficient and friendly.

Shortly before sunset I walked down Downton Lane and along the path through Roger’s fields. The sky bore a strangely sepia hue,

until the lowering sun set the cottages and fields alight,

and sent lightning flashes overhead.

This evening we dined on perfectly roasted lamb and potatoes; stuffing; crunchy cauliflower, carrots, and runner beans; gravy with lots of goodies, and mint sauce; followed by spicy pumpkin pie and cheesecake. Ian drank Peroni; the ladies, Australian white wine; and I finished the rioja.

A Good Arboreal Scratch

We enjoyed another bright and sunny day, albeit a little cooler. A light, short-lived frost had left strings of pearls around our early flowers including

hellebores I had overlooked yesterday,

and prunus pissardi.

This afternoon I watched recorded highlights of last Sunday’s drawn rugby match between Ireland and Wales. This is a very rare result these days, and you have to go back 42 years to the last evenly scored game between these two teams.

After this, Jackie drove us to Ferndene Farm Shop where we bought three bags of compost; then meandered around the forest as far as Godshill and back along Roger Penny Way.

The sun romped in and out of the clouds in the ever-changing skies spilling light and shade over the heathland where well-fattened ponies, with their magpie acolytes, chomped their way across the turf.

When these free-creatures of The New Forest fancied the grass would be greener on the other side, they wandered across the road, exercising their inalienable right to hold up the traffic.

The recent storms have brought down numbers of trees such as this oak, its trunk shattered, on the approach to Burley,

where another, more dead than alive, still stood,

and where one pony left its companions foraging whilst it had a good arboreal scratch.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy chicken curry; savoury rice; and vegetable samosas and pakoras; followed by Sicilian lemon tart and evap. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Fortnum & Mason Saint-Emilio grand cru 2011, given to me by Luci and Wolf for Christmas.

Silhouettes

It is not that unusual for readers seeking contacts or history to stumble across this blog and, through comments, to ask me for information. Yesterday there were two. One man sought a contact with Trinity (Battersea) now Trinity (Oxley) Cricket Club. I, and two others responded. A second person, a woman, wondered whether Jackie’s sister, Helen, was someone she had trained with in the 1960s. I put them in touch with each other. Such is the power of WordPress.

Today, definitely presaging Spring, was even sunnier, and warmer, than yesterday.

Here are some of the garden flowers I did not pick yesterday:

We have pretty pansies,

a vast variety of head-hanging hellebores,

several flourishing viburnums,

precocious primulas, some a little nibbled,

different camellias,

and cerise cyclamens among others.

At midday we drove to Efford Recycling Centre to dump some of our rubbish, and

as usual departed with purchases from the Sales Area, namely a charger, some toddler toys and rolls of mats for the garden shed.

We then came back to Otter Nurseries where we enjoyed mushroom soup and rolls with the discount vouchers. After this we went driveabout.

The light was so clear over the Solent that we had the sharpest view of the flanks of the Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse, a mile and a quarter away.

Walkers were silhouetted on Hordle West Cliff Top.

Driving along Angel Lane we gatecrashed a pheasant hen party.

Back at home, shortly before sunset, sand-clouds gathered over Christchurch Road. This time buildings, shrubs, and trees provided the silhouettes.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s chicken tikka biriani; vegetable pakoras and samosas; salad; and delicious cauliflower bhaji that would have graced any Indian kitchen. The cook drank Hoegaarden and the satisfied customer drank Kingfisher.

Storm Imogen

The winds of Storm Imogen, that reached 96 m.p.h. off The Needles, howled all night and continued at 55-65 m.p.h. throughout the day. Carol had the good sense to suggest I might need to postpone our lunch date. This was very wise as the trains I would need to catch were severely disrupted, and trees were reported down on roads such as the A35.

We were warned against venturing out unless our journey was urgent. I trust you will agree that investigating the views across Christchurch Bay to the Island fitted that bill.

We began on Hordle Cliff Top where it was impossible to see what I was doing, as I was forced backwards by the gusts. Consequently I needed to straighten this one up in my Mac. The computer that is, not the one I was wearing.

Enticed by the prospect of spray on the rocks at Barton on Sea, that is where I took the rest of the photographs.

Descending the car park steps was easier than the battle that was the return.

Close examination of the images will reveal the effects of the flying spray spattered on my lens.

The buildings on the clifftop clung to their perches,

beneath which one of the very few dog walkers in evidence clung to her hood.

Back home, the BBC 1 p.m. News, featured Barton on Sea. Actually, the scene looked more like Milford to me, but never mind. I’m probably wrong.

It being Elizabeth’s birthday, we further braved the storms to meet her, Danni, and Andy for dinner at The White Hart at Cadnam. We shared, olives, stuffed peppers, and bread in a balsamic vinegar dip. My main course was rabbit, ham and lentil broth with parsley dumpling. I shared a cheese board with Danni; and good Chilean red wine with her and Elizabeth.

Sunset On Christchurch Bay

A lilac dawn made way to grey skies for most of the day which, because of the need to stay in for the Central Heating engineer, I spent reading an intriguing novel on which I shall report when I have finished it, probably tomorrow.

Within two hours of his being called, Vince visited, pronounced the death of the leaking radiator, went off to buy a replacement, and fitted it. The unpleasant smell has receded as the carpet has dried.

There not being a second to lose, a few minutes before sunset Jackie’s little Modus hurtled us down to Hordle Cliff car park to capture the constantly changing phenomenon over Christchurch Bay.

These shots looking West were,

interspersed with those to the East, taken in rapid succession.

What is fascinating about these sky-scapes is the difference between the western view containing the sun, and the eastern facing it.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s choice chicken curry, an egg paratha, vegetable bhajis and samosas, with savoury rice. My meal was supplemented by The Dorset Naga Chilli & Smoke Garlic Jam, that Mother Claus had placed in my Christmas stocking. The Cook drank Hoegaarden and I drank Kingfisher.

Ermine Trimming

By mid-morning overnight rain had cleared, making way for sunshine to give a fluffy ermine trim to the clouds over both our garden and the rest of the landscape which glistened with raindrops dripping into the pools and ditches. I took the same walk as yesterday as far as Vicarage Lane, this time crossing it to continue along Sky End Lane, turn right into Everton Road, and eventually right into Farmers Walk to Everton Nurseries where Jackie, having bought three Bishop of Llandaff dahlia tubers and various items of bird food, was finishing her coffee whilst waiting to drive me home.

As I splashed my way along the lanes, knowing that toads like this weather, I kept an eye out for a smiling one, but I was disappointed. The scudding clouds gradually dispersed overhead and buoyant bubbles eventually burst on the surface of the swollen ditches.

The first section of Sky End Lane is narrow and winding and consequently contains a number of reflective mirrors, one of which was crossed with cracks, rain having tarnished the exposed silvering.

A cock crew along Everton Road where smaller birds chirruped in the trees. and from the woods on the other side of Christchurch Road I think I heard a pheasant shoot. A white-haired woman wearing a bright red coat which reflected on the wet tarmac, with a small black terrier in tow, could be seen in the distance as I entered Farmers Walk. Because her female pet held her up every time she needed a sniff, it didn’t take me long to catch them up. We laughed about the animal’s doubling the time it took to walk along the lane.

This evening we dined at our neighbours, The Royal Oak pub. They were very full, for the first time since we have known the establishment. In just a month Carl and Debbie, the new tenants, seem to have turned it round, bringing in a number of local residents. I ate beef madras and profiteroles, whilst Jackie enjoyed a half rack of ribs and sticky toffee pudding (which wasn’t actually sticky) and custard. I normally avoid curry in a pub, because it can never match the real thing, but this one was rather good. Jackie drank Becks. My choice of beverage was Ringwoods fortyniner.

Journey To The Sun

Today’s weather followed a somewhat similar pattern to that of yesterday. After a morning’s pottering Jackie drove us in mid-afternoon to the North of the forest where we wandered around our old haunts between Ringwood and Fordingbridge.
Already, pools began to to gather on the heathlands and the forest floors, and streams, like this one near North Gorley, overflowed their fords.
This particular area, although well populated by ponies, has quite a number of donkeys roaming. A family of four, quite oblivious of the traffic, occupied the road at Hythe, and at Hungerford a pair indulged in a passionate necking session before one was prevailed upon to suckle her foal. These animals do, of course, have right of way in The New Forest, where car drivers must just be patient.
As the sun gradually sank to the horizon, the initially pastel shades of the cloudscapes had, by the time we stopped at the Godshill carpark and Jackie released me with my camera, deepened into a dark indigo pierced by strident reds and yellows and the white heat of the flaming planet .
With the glow of the sun at its lowest point, the already red-brown New Forest ponies took on a brighter shade of russet, thus blending with the autumn leaves and pink clouds of its surroundings.
Soon after our return, we dined on pork spare ribs marinaded in barbecue sauce, superb savoury rice, and green beans, followed by blackberry and apple crumble and clotted cream. I drank more of the rioja, and Jackie enjoyed her customary Hoegaarden.

I Watched The Needles Disappear

Since, except when there is no visibility, I always look across at the Isle of Wight when I walk along the cliff top to Milford or Barton on Sea, it is quite fortuitous that the next two of my interchangeable large format photographic prints that I substituted this morning should be of a trip to Shanklin taken by Jackie, Michael, and me in September 1968. This holiday is described in my post entitled ‘Mumbai’. The unframed picture of Michael, happily buried in the sand, also illustrates that article.

The water spout drained onto the beach.

It was late in the afternoon before today’s rain stopped. Except that, attracted by the ever-changing light over The Solent, and deterred by the muddy footpaths, I returned by the clifftop and the coast road, I took my usual route to Milford on Sea and back. Crows perched on the edge of the cliff before taking off and soaring up above. It was a much cooler day and the wind brought a chill from the sea, so walkers were well wrapped up.

The rainfall I had seen earlier falling on the headland to the West, eventually made its way across to the Isle of Wight, and I watched the Needles disappear before making my way home.

A cow momentarily left off its grazing in order to have a good scratch.

For this evening’s dinner Jackie produced her most edible chilli con carne (recipe) with savoury rice that was a meal in itself, followed by blackberry and apple crumble and clotted cream. She drank Hoegaarden whilst my choice was Castillo san Lorenzo rioja reserva 2009.

Sky

We did watch Bill Nighy in ‘Turks & Caicos’ last night. It was some kind of spy drama, neither thrilling nor intriguing. Nighy was convincing as a burnt-out civil servant doubling up as an MI5 agent in cahoots with Christopher Walken’s cunning and unscrupulous CIA man. A competent Helena Bonham-Carter wheedled incriminating information out of one of those BBC actors whose handsome face you know but can’t quite place the name. I don’t think I ever understood the plot enough to have lost it, but that didn’t matter because Bill explained it all in the end. He whose name I cannot remember was, I think, a mandarin of sorts in cahoots with the Prime Minister working to stash away a figurative pot of gold for his retirement. The idea was that they would con this out of a bunch of murderous American villains, one of whom was killed by Winona Ryder, scarily playing an emotionally damaged woman they were all abusing. She took a shine to our Bill, which was quite helpful to him, although he wouldn’t have dreamed of taking advantage of her. Ralph Fiennes was the PM. He made a brief, silently smiling, appearance ‘through a glass darkly’. In fairness to the anonymous actor, we looked him up. And naturally, when we discovered he was Rupert Graves, we said: ‘Of course’.
Nighy is capable of complex emotional portrayal. He has a most expressive face which was really the one watchable element that stopped me turning off the TV.
With that cast, directed by David Hare, in a film he had also written, we wondered whether we were the ones who were out of kilter. It is still on BBC iPlayer. Should you decide to see it for yourself perhaps you will let us know.
Minstead’s ever-changing cloudscapes enthralled me, as always, this morning as I walked down to the village shop and back. The artist is the sun, now shrouded, now peeking from behind its scudding veils. The bones of the still unclad trees were silhouetted against the shifting skies of deep blue, white, and various shades of grey.

Magnolias are coming into bloom in the village. Oz and Polly’s white one offers a fine display decorating the left fork from Seamans Lane. Pink is the colour of another in a cottage garden opposite The Trusty Servant Inn.
Making up the last of the Safestore boxes for us to fill this afternoon, I reflected on my experiences of such containers. These particular items have already been used to move Jackie and me twice, and Becky and her family once. They are still sturdy enough for one more tour of service. I was amused to see that one still bore the tissue paper that served as the wrapping for Danni’s huge present last year.
Jackie has done a grand job of scavenging cardboard fruit boxes from Morrison’s supermarket. So helpful were the staff that one man was eager to extract the last few melons from one carton so she could take it away. These containers reminded me of the far more robust Chinese Boxes of Soho.

Later, as the sun subsided in the west of our garden, the eastern sky became an indigo water-colour wash with just one cloud reflecting the fading glow from the other side.
We are expecting Elizabeth and Danni shortly. When they arrive we will all go to The Plough Inn at Tiptoe for an evening meal.