Our electrical timers gave us the definitive answer to how long the lights were out yesterday. It was the full hour. If we can trust them.
Widdershins, on this morning of sunshine and showers, I walked the Shave Wood Loop, returning via Bull Lane.
Fields remained waterlogged. Tinkling streams twinkled when the sun shone through the clouds. Busy little birds chirruped in the trees and hedgerows, and an ever-elusive woodpecker could be heard practising carpentry.
Toy ponies in London Minstead were unimpressed by the feeble rainbow that did its best to enhance their backdrop. A dark brown one was given the impression of being backlit by the mane and tail of its two-toned companion.
Bracken is now taking root in the branches of the gnarled old trees, although Shave Wood has received its share of devastation.
A third heap of ‘sold’ timber lies by the forest verge.
A jet trail shimmered beneath the branches reflected in the camber of the tarmac, causing me, continuing yesterday’s philosophical theme, to question how we know whether the white exhaust stream is above or below the trees? Do our eyes deceive us?
Round-bellied ponies chomping in the wood are clearly finding food much easier to come by than at this time last year.
This afternoon Jackie drove us to Ringwood for shopping and banking. The variable, but pleasant, weather continued.
Having missed out on fish and chips yesterday, we dined on them this evening. Our battered fish was pollack, a creature until recently regarded as only fit for cats. We both thought it had more flavour than cod. Not as pure white as its more popular relative, we are not put off by its greyish hue. And we are told cod is rapidly dying out from over-fishing anyway, so we had better get used to it.