donkeys – derrickjknight

Reflections Of Pilley

Knowing that this morning’s dry weather was due to turn wet – which it did – Jackie and I took a forest drive that needed to extend no further than Pilley where rich photographic pickings were to be found.

As we clanked and clattered across the cattle grid into the village we found a veritable herd of shaggy haired donkeys foraging, sleeping, and scratching around the green at Pilley Street and May Lane

Some sprawled somnolently, their hooves tucked beneath them;

a small group surrounded a car attempting to drive down the lane;

others tore and crunched at prickly bushes;

one adventurous animal investigated a parked truck.

Some of those not using low scratching posts engaged in mutual grooming. The last of this group of pictures was obtained through the passenger window glass. I would the window down, saying I wonder whether I could get a clearer shot through the opening. “You won’t” said Jackie. An instant later the eye of a donkey appeared in my viewfinder. The hopeful animal had obscured my sight as it attempted to enter the Modus.

We wondered whether to take home to Dillon a baseball cap left on a post.

Further on, we witnessed much reflective activity on Pilley’s lake,

including that of Canada geese,

a pair of mallards,

and the ripples beneath an inactive set of branches.

Opposite the bus stop a grey pony enjoyed a lunch of cold soup. The last six of these pictures are Jackie’s.

Later, I continued the tedious task of facilitating enlargement of the pictures in the following posts from the Classic Editor period:

Elizabeth Chose Her Moment

A Leaving Present

Progress Report

This evening we all dined on tender roast beef, crisp roast potatoes, parsnips, and Yorkshire pudding, with firm carrots and Brussels sprouts, and meaty gravy. Ellie enjoyed her squashed vegetables with gravy and horseradish sauce. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.

Many Sightings Of Roe Deer

After lunch today Jackie drove us all to Hockey’s Farm Shop where we left the young family to explore while we took a short drive in the near vicinity.

A veritable herd of donkeys in the road outside the shop were engaged in their favourite leisurely game of disruption of the traffic. One attempted to join me in the passenger seat when I returned to the car. The greens at Ibsley, although the waters had receded somewhat, continued to offer

waterlogged reflections of trees above,

and a paddling pool for ponies,

one of whom was in sight of cousins casting shadows on the other side of the road.

Two gentlemen sat atop Rockford Sandpit;

their voices reached me at the bottom, whence I photographed the scene

and its surrounding woodland.

From Ellingham Drove, where we spotted one of our many sightings of roe deer in the shade, we drove to the main road where we filled up with petrol and returned to Hockey’s to collect the others.

Later, following the advice of SueW, I recovered the pictures from the following posts:

Coming Clean

21st Century Encroachment

Pigs Can Fly

This evening we all dined on more of Jackie’s tasty pasta Bolognese, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Valle Central Reserva Privada Syrah, 2021.

Stretching For Holly

Ronan of Tom Sutton Heating spent the morning fixing the boiler problem which turned out to be water in the oil; it seems it was not the drop in temperature which had stopped it working, but the very heavy rain which has got in somewhere. To be more sure Jackie has ordered a tank drier bag from Amazon.

The rain having desisted, much of the floodwater has receded and the icicles melted, although , on this still chilly but dry day ice not reached by the low, weak, sun remains, as we discovered on a forest drive.

Boldre Bridge overlooked a rippling stream, still bearing ice, and reflecting trees and fenceposts.

Nearby, Rodlease Lane still bore arboreal images in pools disturbed by passing vehicles.

Long shadows of a woman and a donkey stretched across the banks of Hatchet Pond and the potholed drive to it;

gulls admired their reflections in the remnants of its ice, while a paddling coot looked on.

The drift paddock on Furzey Lane reflected on the icy pool surrounding it, where

patterns remained unthawed.

A pony reaching up for holly in Ran’s Wood was lit by the lowering sun, which had

set by the time we arrived at Milford on Sea..

Later we dined on Cook’s very tasty vegetarian lasagna brought by Elizabeth last week, and Jackie’s equally flavoursome Chicken and vegetable stewp with delicious garlic bread brought by our sister from the same source. I drank more of the Shiraz and no-one else did.

An Old Cart Revisited

Today we brunched at

which was undergoing work on the roof as we arrived.

I first featured their ancient farm cart in https://derrickjknight.com/2020/09/11/do-not-climb/

Here are some more details from this visit. With its injunction warning customers against climbing on this vehicle of a past age, it lies alongside the car park, its wooden boards slowly degenerating; self-seeded plants seeking nourishment from a build-up of soil and other materials; its powerful iron fittings protected from the ravages of time by the patina of rust or of red paint.

These garden obelisks are some of the many artefacts on sale in the yard.

As we turned into Ringwood Road on our journey home a grinning cyclist passed us from ahead.

The reason became apparent around the next bend where donkeys blocked the road;

pannage pigs foraging a little further on kept to the verge.

This evening, begging porcine forgiveness, we dined on Mediterranean style pork chops (with paprika, garlic, and a little chilli); crisp roast potatoes, some sweet and softer; crunchy carrots; tangy red cabbage; and tender green beans with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.

A City Of Fungi

Yesterday I mentioned that Jackie and I had taken a forest drive which I would feature today.

This is that drive.

On Cadnam Lane we were subject to the scrutiny of donkeys on Country Watch. Like police officers on surveillance one was fixed on the suspects while the other was taking a rest.

Further along we encountered the first of what would be a number of donkey foals we would meet on our drive.

Ponies foraged along both sides of the verges at Furzey.

Cattle and ponies shared the pasturage of Penn Common;

I walked along the road towards Bramshaw to investigate a distant group of ponies and flock of sheep.

A slow moving tractor with its lights flashing came into view before I reached my targets.

Outside Bramshaw we noticed what Jackie termed

a city of fungi perched in tiers on the sides of the cliffside roots of

a recently fallen tree still bearing

penknife graffiti which will merge into the soil sooner than if its carved bark had remained on a living tree.

This afternoon Becky drove Flo and Ellie to her home at Southbourne, where they will spend a day or two.

Jackie and I then dined at The Red Lion in Pilley. My choice was a rib eye steak, and Jackie’s a Cajun chicken burger. Each with all the trimmings was excellent. Drinks were Diet Pepsi and Ringwood’s Best respectively.

Who Lived Down Here?

This morning Jackie drove me into the forest.

At the bottom of Bull Hill a troop of donkeys blocked the road. After negotiating her way round them, Jackie drove on until she could stop safely, when I disembarked and walked back to find that the animals had

ambled off to disrupt traffic further down the road.

Undeterred, I followed, trying not to inconvenience the traffic myself, and found them separately secluded in various entrances.

At the narrow, Portmore, end of Jordans Lane

I spotted a stationary stone squirrel sited on slate tiles.

We wondered who lived down here.

On our return home I received a message from EE stating that my number had been transferred – and another from O2 informing me that I was on emergency calls only.

Flo then helped me get my head around using the new device. This, of course, required much patience from her as she watched her grandfather’s nervous fingers stubbing away, often inserting the wrong information, if only with one incorrect digit. She positioned the various icons in Grandpa-friendly locations on the screen.

This evening we dined on tricolore fusilli pasta arrabbiata with cauliflower and broccoli al dente sprinkled with Parmesan cheese accompanied by Hoegaarden in Jackie’s case, and more of the Cabernet Sauvignon in mine.

‘A Muddy Golden Pond’

This morning I watched recordings of the Women’s rugby World Cup between Scotland and Australia, and between England and France.

Yesterday’s readers will know of my O2 saga. I did not receive the PAC code today, but I did receive two e-mails featuring a survey seeking to know about my satisfaction. Needless to say the scores were minimal, the questions bore no relevance to my leaving, they asked what the purpose of my conversation had been (when I had already detailed it a question or two before) etc., etc.

I made another attempt to transfer photos from my phone to my computer, and failed again so reverted to my tried and tested Canon EOS 5D for the forest drive we took this afternoon.

Our journey began in calm, encouraging, sunshine; gradually the clouds became dark and brooding, large soft raindrops caressed the windscreen, and acorn pistol shots ricocheted from the Modus body.

At the corner of Ringwood Road where overhead trees were reflected in pools along the verges,

another photographer, like me, had disembarked, leaving his Chauffeuse at the wheel, in order to photograph

a string of dripping donkeys

beyond which cows sheltering beneath other trees drew me across the road where

I disturbed a deer which took a good look at me before departing in haste.

As I negotiated the verge to reembark I photographed these acorns and oak leaves floating in ‘a muddy golden pond’ borrowed from https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2022/10/16/golden-pond/

This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent cottage pie; fried potatoes and onions, crunchy carrots, and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Terra Calda Puglia Primitivo 2019. Flo and Dillon ate later.

Now for the good news. This post has been published without any glitches just as I had almost forgotten was normal

Bumping Into Prince Philip

Early this morning, once again in steady rain, Jackie and I transported another Modus-load of soggy garden refuse to the Efford Recycling Centre, and continued on a damp forest drive.

A pair of wet donkeys at East Boldre with little leaves adhering to their spiral-patterned hides hopefully raised their mournful heads as I disembarked to photograph them.

Ponies and their foals seemed happier in nature’s cool showers along Furzey Lane. Equally damp they contentedly cropped their pasturage.

One foal took time away from suckling to have a good scratch;

another rested beneath an oak tree surviving against the odds which was laden with acorns ready to drop.

Raindrops must have slid down this chicken’s feathers.

I never met Queen Elizabeth II, but I did once bump into Prince Philip.

Sometime in the early 1990s when Jessica and I were staying in Cumbria in the premises of the late Hugh Lowther, married at the time to my late wife’s cousin Angie – possibly not the holiday spent with Ali, Steve, and James, in 1992, during which today’s header photograph was taken – we attended a show event in the grounds of Hugh’s father, the 7th Earl of Lonsdale. Willie, Viscount Whitelaw of Penrith, was one of the dignitaries I recognised within the secure palisade surrounding the area.

When wandering around, I passed the entrance to a marquee just as an elegant gentleman dashed out unable to avoid a collision. Thus I met the Queen’s Consort.

This evening we repeated yesterday’s wholesome fare, except that Jackie drank Hoegaarden while I drank more of the Burgundy.

Materials Available To Us

Because of the upcoming bank holiday weekend it will be a few days before I am able to upload more pictures.

I am therefore unable to attach new ones to the text of our forest drive of 25th, so I am substituting similarish images from my archives.

After a night of what I call proper rain – that is, steady non-violent precipitation rather than weighty plops dropped at sudden intervals and bouncing off baked soil surfaces to sizzle in the scorching heat –

shallow pools were beginning to return to the moorland

and potholed gravel drives.

Shallow streams began to ripple once more,

and the landscape began to brighten.

Ponies could once again be reflected beside pools,

although this one at the western East Boldre corner of St Leonards Road, often, in wetter periods providing ponies with gazpacho soup, remained no more than a slight puddle before a bank of gorse and bracken.

A pair of donkeys seen regularly on Sowley Road

sporting patterns of hide as wet as those of these ponies a year ago,

noisily munched

apples dropped from a tree above. (OK, the donkeys pictured are eating carrots, but we have to use materials available to us).

Kayakers were observed on Lymington River as we waited for the level crossing into the town.

This evening we dined on succulent chicken marinaded in mango and chilli sauce and Jackie’s superb savoury rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden, I drank Calvet Prestige Côtes du Rhône Villages 2021, and Flo and Dillon drank fruit cordial. This was what had been in the process of being cooked when yesterday’s outage hit. This had been caused by a skein of geese flying into power cable which exploded in protest.

A Tale Of Wasps

Eleanor is a good-tempered child who doesn’t normally make a fuss. It therefore came as a big surprise when, some time after the above picture was taken at yesterday’s barbecue, she let out a piercing yell and continued to cry.

Jackie soon grasped what was wrong and provided the wherewithal to reduce the distress.

For most of this week she has been set on the destruction of two nests –

one underground on the footpath across the Palm Bed

and the other in the stumpery which is after all an insect hotel.

The evening before the party the Terminator discovered, from ankle to upper thigh, beneath her jeans, upwards of 20 rapidly swelling stings and two halves of a wasp. She used up all her creams and a couple of Ibuprofen tablets overnight and bought a new supply in the morning.

She was therefore well equipped to administer anti histamine creams and to prevent vinegar being applied to the child’s sting.

Jackie’s leg was much better this morning, as was mine. Although she seems to have destroyed the nests, she has noticed that wasps are still drinking from the water fountain in the Rose Garden.

I therefore lay in wait for the thirsty visitors and photographed a few.

After lunch we took a brief forest drive.

Alongside the lane into Portmore

Jackie noticed sheep sheltering in the barren landscape, and stepped out of the car to photograph them.

She also pictured cow parsley seeds, as did I;

Additionally, I focussed on burnished bracken on the verge, and a developing sweetcorn crop.

Determined donkeys advanced steadily along the tarmac at East Boldre,

where a few ponies, having left the parched terrain opposite, tried to shelter in clusters beside the village shop, too drained of energy to care where they were putting their feet. The Janus-headed one in Matthew’s Lane did summon up the enthusiasm to make a bee-line for me in a vain search for succour.

Jackie, keen to demonstrate to our concerned readers that I am no longer confined to the passenger seat, photographed me attempting to convince my equine friend that I had nothing for her.

Normally I try to keep my shadow out of a picture, but this seemed to warrant making an exception, since the pony was too close to be kept in focus.

I stepped out of the car again opposite No 1, Sowley Lane to photograph two donkeys, one moulting, on the bend in the road. As I did so, I saw one car with a boat on a trailer approaching from the animals’ side of the road while another vehicle was about to pass them on my side. Neither could have seen or heard the other, and the first would not know he was aiming straight for two animals he could only avoid by slamming on brakes or chancing a head-on collision. I pointed and gesticulated in each direction, hoping they would get the message. Fortunately this alerted them to approach the bend especially slowly. The asses did not move.

This evening we dined on Red Chilli takeaway fare. Main course choices included Lamb Rogan Josh, Chicken Korma, Chicken Tikka Shaslick, and Naga Lamb; we shared Pilau Rice, Peshwari Naan, Plain Paratha, and Saag Bhaji, all of which was as good as ever. Jackie drank Hoegaarden; I drank more of the Bordeaux which involved opening another bottle; and Flo and Dillon drank Ribena.