Tag: fallen trees

Ecology In Progress

We began this largely overcast day with a trip to Efford Recycling Centre transporting another carload of green garden refuse which will no doubt play its part in the progress of ecology once it has been processed.

This afternoon, after a brief Tesco shop Jackie drove me into the forest. As often on such a gloomy day we drove around for some time without tempting my trigger finger, before encountering

an approaching horse and cart, the driver of which, having spotted my lens through our windscreen, smiled and waved between the last two images in this gallery – unfortunately I missed that shot.

We have learned that there are thousands more giant redwood trees in UK than in California; a number planted more than a century ago in

the Rhinefield Ornamental drive in our New Forest.

To the left of the second picture above lies the trunk of a tree we first noticed a few years back when it first fell. Now we can watch its contribution to the forest regeneration.

I watched a gentleman photographing two children against a recently fallen giant, and later, from a greater distance through trees, spotted one climbing the corpse.

The broken tree in the second and third images in this gallery will join the first example above, making its own contribution. I am not sure at this stage of the difference between the sequoias and the Douglas firs, both of which feature in this drive, but that trunk in the last picture certainly contains red wood.

The sequoia towering above the sun-kissed trees in this picture was planted in the garden of Castle Malwood Lodge, where we lived for our first 18 months in the forest, by Prime Minister William Ewart Gladstone during one of his visits in the 1880s..

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s stupendous chicken and vegetable stewp and fresh, crusty, bread with which I finished the Shiraj.

A Huge Pat Of Rooted Soil

Power was returned to Elizabeth’s home during the night. After lunch she returned to sort things out then join us for dinner before settling back into Burnt House Lane.

Our storms seem to be over, and we enjoyed a much brighter afternoon when we shopped at Ferndene then continued on a forest drive.

Along Lyndhurst Road

A newly broken tree prompted me to disembark beneath Lucy Hill and explore this microcosm of forest ecology. Storm Franklin could not uproot this small oak, but it was strong enough to shatter the trunk and leave it standing where it will stay until it gradually disintegrates.

Previous skeletal remains are never far from each new casualty

gradually returning to the soil from whence it sprang years before.

Another giant, clearly hollowed with age has received it last push to crash to the ground, breaking up already dead timber.

The mossy roots and sturdy trunk of this large oak seem firm enough, but one long branch now leans against it.

Shadows fell across the slopes of the hill.

Further along the road, also bearing shadows on its verges

a really massive fallen oak must have blocked the thoroughfare until really heavy vehicles left their tracks in the churned up mud. Trees still standing were reflected in the overnight rain pool beside the huge pat of rooted soil.

On our way home a pair of ponies crossed from the sunlit side of Rhinefield Road onto the more shady area.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty sausages in red wine; creamy mashed potatoes; firm Brussels sprouts; and crunchy carrots and cauliflower, followed by mixed fruit crumble and ice cream. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, Elizabeth finished the Toscana, and I drank more of the Douro.

Used Fireworks

All was quiet and still early this morning. Storm Eunice had passed on and the sun shone.

We began by shopping at Tesco. After half an hour the skies darkened, the wind speed rose seemingly faster than the predicted 46 m.p. h., and heavy rain steadily descended throughout our subsequent forest drive.

A team must have been on standby to carry out the amount of early clearing up that was in evidence.

A fallen tree on Silver Street had brought down a telephone line which stretched along the verge and across the road. Everyone drove over the cable on the tarmac. Open Reach engineers were in evidence throughout the day.

Broken branch debris, like this on Agars Lane and along Brockenhurst Road remained scattered.

Some fallen limbs, such as these either side of Silver Street and Brockenhurst Road had clearly traversed the thoroughfares.

On the corner of Silver Street beside the bank of snowdrops at Congleton,

lay a burgeoning branch ripped from a tree that was nowhere in sight.

Trees had fallen in South Sway Lane;

and in Mead End Road.

This fallen and sawn tree along Brockenhurst Road had already been well chewed by an ungulate, but I don’t think that is what brought it down.

These smaller branches were nearby.

As we kept our eyes open for fresh fallen trees we remembered our childhood searches for used fireworks along London streets the morning after bonfire night. Chris and I simply salivated over them as we sorted and graded the empty shells; Jackie and her sisters had scraped out powder residue and attempted to light it on the open fire.

The rain kept up into the afternoon. When I woke up after dozing with my hand on the mouse the sun shone once more and the wind had lessened, enabling me to photograph

scenes of the garden from above, showing that we had come off quite lightly really.

Today’s sunset was much more cheerful than that of yesterday, although when walking down to the back drive to find these shots I did discover

a displaced section of fallen fencing fortunately not our responsibility.

Elizabeth is experiencing a lengthy power cut so she came to our house to warm up and have dinner which consisted of more of yesterday’s with more chicken and more rice and tender green beans with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and Elizabeth and I drank Azinhaga de Ouro Reserva 2019.

Later my sister discovered that the problem would not be fixed until tomorrow. Fortunately she had brought her pyjamas just in case.

Last Hours Of The Day

While the overnight gale continued to rant, rave, and spatter our windows we spent the morning continuing the decluttering prompted by our domestic refurbishment. I made considerable headway in dispensing with decades of paperwork.

Late this afternoon, when the wind and the rain desisted, we rewarded ourselves with a forest drive.

At the corner of Brock Hill Car Park serving the Rhinefield ornamental drive a victim of the recent winds, ripped from its rooting place and tossed onto picnic tables lay ready to join

others having earlier suffered similar fates to return to the soil from which they sprang.

A bitter wind made the temperature feel colder than the 3 degrees Centigrade that was recorded. The walkers lending scale to the giant redwoods around them were wrapped up well.

We have learned that robins abandon gardens for the forest during winter. They were much in evidence. This one dropped onto a fungus-bearing post.

From Rhinefield we progressed to pass Burley Manor where two groups of walkers caught the last of the sunlight as they crossed the lawn and its dying trees.

The skies were adopting gentle pastel shades, which strengthened by the time we reached

Picket Post, blessed with Jesus beams on the approach to sunset, more apparent across the moors alongside

Holmsley Passage.

This evening we dined on moist roast lamb; boiled new potatoes and the sweet variety roasted with parsnips; firm broccoli; tasty red cabbage; and tender runner beans; with mint sauce and meaty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden while I drank Duck Point Merlot 2019.

Behind The Scenes

I began another gloomy-looking day by printing a batch of photographs for my sister, Jacqueline, including

this one of her son, my nephew James and his son Shay at Michael and Heidi’s wedding on 5th October 1991.

Our blogging friend Carolyn began a comment on “Her Autumn Garden” with

a poem which I printed for Jackie to stick on her fridge. She photographed both it and a series of behind the scenes locations.

From the east front gate we see the Head Gardener’s Shed, greenhouse, and

potting up station where, perched on her kneeler she fills containers in the wheelbarrow from the fresh compost bags.

Behind the shed various implements are stored, and beside it potted items await their permanent homes.

Plants in need of more nurturing begin their lives in the greenhouse, also seen

beside the wisteria arbour.

Accessed from the west gates beside the house

the front garden contains a strengthened arch.

Later, we shopped at Otter Nurseries for Sharp Sand, pansies, and a hose attachment; posted Jacqueline’s photographs from Everton Post Office; and continued for a short forest drive.

Attracted by a fallen giant at Lucy Hill, I disembarked and scrambled into the

woodland where earlier casualties were in the process of being absorbed into last autumns leaves on the forest floor or draped in undergrowth to aid their decomposition and provide winter quarters for various insects and other small creatures;

and bracken was beginning to shrivel and turn golden brown.

Ever perverse, the sun waited for me to return to the Modus before sending weak streaks across the fallen leaves and silhouetting trees opposite.

Finally Jackie pointed out a door in a tree trunk behind which a Hobbit may have set up home.

This evening we enjoyed our second helpings of yesterday’s Chinese takeaway with which Jackie drank more of the Pinot Grigio and I drank Chevalier de Fauvert Comte Tolosan Rouge 2019.

An Arboreal Ossuary

This morning Jackie continued with her general maintenance work, including

autumn cleaning the greenhouse, and clearing and resetting paths such as the Head Gardener’s Walk.

My minimal intervention was the removal of brambles invading from No. 5 Downton Lane. This, and the amount of weeds piercing the gravel is somewhat reminiscent of our arrival here 1n 2014.

I then wandered around with my camera.

Each of these images bears a title in the gallery,

as do these in the front garden one. Please ignore the rose stems that need sorting out.

This afternoon we drove into the forest.

If these ponies had come for a drink beside Bisterne Close they would have been disappointed because the pool has virtually dried up.

I stopped along Burley Road to investigate the tree work on the fallen giant that has recently added its bulk to the

arboreal ossuary that this area has become.

Early this evening, having been encouraged by my very good blogging friend, Uma Shankar, One Grain Amongst the Storm, and endorsed by another, Laurie Graves, to break up the sequence of material on my three great aunts, I made headway in preparing the next episodes of A Knight’s Tale.

Later, we dined on a repeat of yesterday’s menu, with which Jackie drank the same white wine and I quaffed Colin-Bourisset Fleurie 2019.

An Arboreal Charnel House

Although still breezy and somewhat nippy, our morning’s weather was much brighter.

Accompanied by chirruping small birds, the screeching of the greenfinch, the cooing of doves, the repeated mating plea of a wood pigeon, and the gentle buzzing of the bees,

Jackie continued her various plantings such as those in tubs, stone urns, box containers and hanging baskets;

I picked up fallen debris then went round the bend, almost completing the task of clearing the Heligan Path of weeds.

My next task will be recovering the overgrown footpath leading to the chair in the Weeping Birch Bed. I assure you there is one there.

At one point the Head Gardener popped out to Ferndene Farm Shop and returned with more compost. This enabled her to replace some older material

and use it, to the consternation of a few owls – one of which was given a dry shampoo – to refresh the soil-leaking stumpery.

After lunch we took a trip to the north of the forest.

We stopped on Cadnam Lane to admire the group of Shetland ponies with their big grey companion. By the time I had changed my lens and emerged from the car, they were all setting off into the distance. They were not going to play ball today.

The soft toys attached to a gate and railings are looking pretty soggy now.

Further along we encountered a trio of what Jackie termed “deliciously disgusting” sows.

Wherever we drive in the New Forest at the moment it increasingly bears the look of an arboreal charnel house.

On the approach to Bramshaw I disembarked and made some images that could have been found almost anywhere in our National Park, committed as its management is to maintaining the natural ecology.

The most recently sawn trunk and branches had clearly fallen across the road, for its trunk and branches have been cut up on opposite sides.

A sturdy oak supports another tree that has been ripped asunder.

One decaying trunk has taken on the persona of an almost toothless old man of the woods.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome sausage casserole; boiled potatoes; firm carrots; and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.

Blue Haze

Jackie managed to squeeze herself into a ball to sit on her kneeling stool underneath the red Japanese maple this morning in order to dig out clumps of allium triquentrums. Don’t be deceived by the visible sunlight. I was, and went to visit Mum without a jacket. It was cold.

My mother had quite some difficulty hearing us today from behind the screen. She finds my pitch more problematic than Jackie’s higher one. She was, however, in good spirits, and got my jokes, which my wife claims takes some doing.

After lunch we took a drive into the forest.

Jackie parked beside Royden Lane and decanted me so I could photograph

the surroundings, including the sawn stump of a tree that must have blocked the road when it keeled over; a stream flowing through the woodland; and a sun-dappled field horse beside a deep dry ditch spanned by another fallen tree.

The bluebell woods on either side of Church Lane are becoming dusted with their familiar haze.

The newly surfaced lanes of East End were no deterrent to donkeys trimming the hedges.

Two windsurfers could be seen against the backdrop of the Isle of Wight from the shingle beach at the end of Tanners Lane where

a young woman stood engrossed in her mobile phone while her charge attempted to scale a post.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome sausage and mushroom casserole; creamy mashed potato; crunchy carrots; and firm cauliflower, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Western Cape Malbec 2020.

Slow For Ponies

Today the weather was sun-bright-clear-chilly-cold.

We began by purchasing vegetables at Ferndene Farm Shop, then drove into the forest by way of

Beckley Common Road where Jackie parked, a jogger passed, and I pictured

the surrounding woodland where the harsh squawking of disturbed pheasants interrupted the melodic birdsong.

The next parking spot was a lay-by off the A35 where gorse bushes balls emulated stationary tumbleweed.

My next disembarkation was beside Lyndhurst Road where no discordant notes clashed with the avian melodies.

A friendly gentleman led a rope-tacked pony past the resting Modus while I photographed

more woodland and its reflecting stream.

I was surprised to see several euphorbia plants accompanying the primroses, celandines, and violets dotted among last year’s leaves carpeting the forest floor.

Along a side track leading to several private properties a number of large trees had fallen recently, and someone had lit a fire between two smaller trees, burning off some of the bark.

Showing signs of shedding their winter coats, ponies on Mill Lawn and the verges of Mill Lane tucked into their all day breakfasts.

Others trooped across Bisterne Close to sample something more prickly. A pair of cyclists stopped to take photographs. New Forest drivers are encouraged to display stickers stating “I go slow for ponies”. The animals crossing here make their requests on the tarmac.

For dinner this evening Jackie produced some of her thick, wholesome, chicken stewp with fresh crusty bread and we enjoyed eating it with, in her case, Hoegaarden, and in mine, more of the Bordeaux.

Sampling A Dandelion

Early this morning Jackie hoovered the house and I swept the garden paths.

Barry and Karen visited us later, when we enjoyed coffee, cake, and convivial conversation.

“A wobble” has become Jackie’s term for a forest photo foray. It may have something to do with my gait. We went on one this afternoon.

As we turn off Roger Penny Way onto Cadnam Lane we cross a road bridge

over a stream which is very much drying out as a result of our recent paucity of precipitation.

I needed four photographs to cover the stretch of a huge recently fallen tree which, had it descended in the opposite direction would have damaged a nearby house,

seen beyond the evidence of an earlier toppled giant.

Older branches were now covered in bright green moss.

The bright sunshine of this warmer day cast shadows across last year’s autumn leaves and this year’s yellow celandines which also clung to the bank of the stream.

Further along Cadnam Lane we encountered a field full of recently yeaned ewes and their very young lambs.

A young man occupied himself with his mobile phone as he led his pony to its nearby paddock.

Tufts of wool bunting decorated the bramble hedges. Perhaps they had been shed by the mothers before confinement;

perhaps others on the road or in the neighbouring woodland.

Would anyone like to suggest a speech bubble for this squirrel, bearing in mind the creature has its mouth full?

It was another which dashed across the road.

Like all youngsters at this time this donkey foal sought new goodies to eat. We watched it sample a dandelion.

Maybe it was its Dad daring our Modus to come any closer.

This evening we dined on second helpings of yesterday’s casserole with boiled new potatoes; and a perfection of cabbage, carrots, and cauliflower. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Red Blend.