Tag: donkeys

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.

A Dappled Day

Yesterday morning Jackie was startled by a thud on the sitting room French windows. Knowing it would have been a bird she investigated and found a

stunned young thrush on the other side of the panes. After a while it flew off to the squawking of alarmed parents who could spot Mrs Knight inches away. They presumably could not see the glass either.

This morning a carried out a stint of dead-heading before we went trawling for a lunch venue. Our local cafés were packed out or impossible to park at, so we set off for The Green Dragon at Brook.

Service here was of variable quality. We were led to our table and served drinks by someone who was either not very well or would rather she or we were somewhere else. After a lengthy wait a much more friendly personality took our food order, giving us the useful and accurate advice when we each ordered sides of onion rings that one portion would be enough for both of us.

My choice was haddock, chips, and peas with Wadworth’s 6X beer; Jackie’s was beef burger and chips with Diet Coke. The peas were served chopped up, possibly without cooking, and so strongly minted that I chose not to eat them all. My Culinary Queen agreed with me.

Along the woodland lane at Bramshaw we encountered two donkeys with their foals grazing and suckling among the dappled sunlight,

which also cast shadows across healthy living trees and dead and broken trunks lining the route on the way to Nomansland,

where ponies seemed intent on blocking the road.

One mare and foal took their differing sustenance on the moorland beside Roger Penny Way where, as in many such a location,

ponies and foals clustered to shelter from heat and flies in their own dappled shade.

This evening we repeated yesterday’s dessert of fruit, cheesecake and cream with which I drank another glass of the guv’nor.

Mind The Sheep

This afternoon we drove Flo to her parents’ flat at Southbourne where she is to spend a few days.

On our return we drove up Roger Penny Way from Cadnam roundabout and back home via North Gorley.

Brook Cottage, standing beside the Green Dragon pub on Roger Penny Way, is of a standard New Forest Design.

I forget the name of the thatched cottage across the road that has a team of what I think are horned sheep (maybe Wiltshire breed)

keeping the grass down.

Three of these nonchalantly test the drivers of vehicles coming round the bend.

Further along the road towards Godshill ponies and foals graze the verges. Opposite these a crow is reflected in a still pond.

I stepped out at Ashley Walk car park to remind myself of my having strode over these moors not so very long ago.

Donkeys at Godshill Cricket ground are busy shedding their winter coats, possibly because they have heard we are due a heat wave next week.

This evening we snacked on scrambled egg on toast. I’m still trying to get over Monday’s ultimate mixed grill.

Heucheraholics

After lunch I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/06/26/diary-of-a-good-neighbour/

Then Jackie and I visited Jools, Sean, and Pumpkin at

where we engaged in enjoyable conversation, Jackie bought a plant, and I

wandered freely with my camera.

Afterwards we went on a foal hunt.

Donkeys on Bull Hill were the first to oblige.

It was only two days ago that we mentioned that we had never seen any

Shetland foals. Today we spied a few through trees at Norley Wood.

A satisfied crow had more success in catching the thatched hare at East End than the chasing fox ever would.

Before dinner I watched the highlights of the fourth day’s play in the Test match between England and New Zealand.

Afterwards the three of us dined on second helpings of yesterday’s Red Chilli takeaway with the addition of Jackie’ s paneer dish with which she drank Hoegaarden, I finished the Fleurie, and Flo abstained.