foal – derrickjknight

Damp And Hazy

After stocking up on sausages and salad ingredients at Ferndene Farm Shop we ventured into a soggy forest where steady rain fell in an ever increasing crescendo keeping windscreen wipers in work.

The weather was nevertheless sultry enough for the few ponies we

encountered, despite being decidedly damp,

to continue to be plagued by flies.

Headlights gleamed in the haze of Pound Lane, as heather on the verges did its best to brighten the dreary views.

Later, I published:

The Prose Edda

This evening we dined on pork spare ribs in BBQ sauce from Tesco and chipotle from Lidl, with Jackie’s mushroom and onion rice and tender green and runner beans, with which I drank Castellore The Reprobates Italian red wine.

Equine, Cervine, Bovine, Road Users

We spent the morning in Southampton General Hospital in order for me to have everything tested to see if I was fit for a general anaesthetic for the biopsy set for Tuesday 25th.

Bodily fluids were extracted; internal and external structures and organs were examined; chest hair was shaved to provide points for the application of electrodes; heart and lungs were listened to; surprise was once more expressed at my “perfect blood pressure” (the doctor was 26 and said it was the same as hers) and the paucity of any regular medication; DNA swabs were taken; height and weight measured; family history, including everyone relevant, and all operations under anaesthetic in my own life, beginning with tonsillectomy in 1947, was closely examined and documented. I can only assume I passed so I won’t feel anything on Tuesday.

After lunch we took a forest drive.

Anther photographer watched ponies and a foal on Holmsley Passage. Enlarging the first picture in this gallery will reveal tufts of cotton grass which speckles the boggy moorland sections at this time; the leaves under the rippling stream and the pool on the verge indicate that this terrain has the perfect conditions for its growth.

Further along the Passage a young stag crossed the road and disappeared into the bracken. Note the temporary repairs to the nibbled edges. of the tarmac.

Ponies are beginning to shelter under the trees along Forest Road in anticipation of a further influx of flies.

While I was photographing these ponies, bellowing and thudding calves began running up the road in search of their parents, some of whom accompanied them back down again.

This evening we dined on a meaty pork rib rack in barbecue sauce; wholesome mushroom rice; creamy mashed potato and swede; tender runner beans and spinach, with which I drank more of the Alentejano.

How Many Balls?

On this overcast, imperceptibly drizzly morning I made a good start on reading Jane Eyre for the second time after all but 60 years.

After lunch the sun came out to play with the pink climbers and white solanum on the front garden trellis, as Jackie drove us to Nomansland and back.

Donkeys made a nuisance of themselves on the road at Bramshaw.

A trio of guinea fowl were engaged in their customary pecking up ticks at Nomansland,

while an enforced hiatus in the cricket match in progress was brought about by an injury to a player who received a ball on the forehead. One of the players in the second picture appears to be indicating the point of contact.

The last three pictures in this gallery of the action are Jackie’s. The rest are mine. Those feeling so inclined may count how many balls are in the air in my set. Enlargement in the gallery may be helpful.

The first picture featuring spectators is mine, the other three, by Jackie,

who also photographed scenes in and around the soggy pool, where,

as we were leaving, a pony and her very young foal were to drink. The first five are my pictures, the next five, Jackie’s.

This evening we dined on meaty pork spare ribs; tender green beans; and Jackie’s colourful savoury rice and moist ratatouille.

Avian Backing Notes

We were out early enough in the forest this morning to be held up by children being delivered to schools.

Against the soundtrack of a distant cuckoo’s call ponies breakfasted on the moorland alongside Holmsley Passage, further along which

lay a foal alongside its dam, until I approached too close for comfort, sending it to seek security from her flanks and source of nourishment.

More ponies, still shaggy in winter coats, were gathering on the green at N. Gorley, where a local resident gathered fresh manure with bucket and spade. Here the avian backing notes were provided by the cawing of vociferous rooks.

Jackie photographed a herd of deer lounging beneath trees at Gorley Common. They can be seen roughly central in the first picture.

En route to Ogden’s North her next subject was a rabbit seemingly paralysed at the roadside. She produced the next two in this gallery

while I photographed the rippling stream, its shallow bed, and its clear reflections.

It was the crowing of roosters that rent the air at Hockey’s Farm Shop

where Jackie photographed some shaggy alpacas.

This afternoon I added a lengthy P.S. to https://derrickjknight.com/2021/09/21/a-knights-tale-36-some-schoolmasters/ consisting of further memories of Wimbledon College teachers e-mailed to me by Keith Prince, who joined the school two years after me.

This evening we dined on tasty haddock fish cakes; piquant cauliflower cheese; creamy mashed potato and crunchy carrots, with which I drank more of the Merlot.

A Window Frame

Early this morning Jackie photographed

Ellie, perched on tiptoe and reaching for Norrie on the TV screen.

She then applied her lens to her Morning Glory, and, at the end of our trip out, to the display boxes decorating New Milton’s roads.

After lunch, before our drive, she drove me to Sears Barbers for a haircut and photographed the process.

We returned along the coast road where I undertook the photography. Despite the ever stiffening breeze blowing off the Solent, still sporting my shirtsleeves, and having rather less hair covering, I was perfectly warm on the clifftop.

The Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse with its red eye, stood out in the gloom,

as did the Hurst lighthouse.

Churning waves sped across the sea to the rocks beneath the crumbling cliff,

cleaving the line of breakwaters.

Walkers along the promenade passed thrift resisting the wind.

The sun occasionally glinted on the sea surface smooth enough for yachting.

On our return home a pony crossed Forest Road.

Beside Holmsley Camp Site ponies shared the landscape with English Longhorn and Belted Galloway cattle and their usual crows;

one foal made a beeline for a feed.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty fusilli Bolognese and Parmesan cheese with which she drank Silvaner Spätlese Rheinhessen 2020, and I drank Selone Cabernet Zinfandel 2021.

Forced Eviction

After buying three large bags of compost at Ferndene Farm Shop Jackie and I took a brief forest drive.

Obscure figures beneath a railway bridge outside Brockenhurst, seeming to create traffic chaos, caused me to disembark and walk

along the heather and bramble lined verge

for a slightly clearer view.

Until I adjusted my vision and lightened the camera’s view the first two shots of this pony and foal’s mutual grooming were reminiscent of the days before single lens reflex equipment helped us cope with parallax and subjects were decapitated or only showed their legs (only those of a certain age will understand this).

For those too young to know this is what could happen in the 1950s.

The pony looked as if it had either wallowed in a mud bath or had been dowsed with the contents of a paint can.

Meanwhile, traffic in both directions, their passengers smiling and aiming their mobiles, carefully negotiated the ponies and each other.

Soon, what I took to be equine reinforcements arrived.

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No. This was a stand-off resulting in a forced eviction.

Flo, Dillon, and Ellie having taken a late lunch to set them on their way to a three day house hunting trip to Scotland did not join us for tonight’s dinner consisting of a repeat of yesterday’s flavoursome Fusilli Bolognese with which Jackie drank more of the French rosé and I drank François Dubessy GSM 2021.

Most Dispirited

The unexpected gales of Anthony, the first ever UK named August storm, wreaked havoc throughout the night.

Jackie has repaired her ceramic owl wind-chimes on countless occasions, but this crashing onto the patio paving, just a day after she had last glued the myriad of pieces together left it beyond further repair, and her most dispirited. The woven ring is Flo’s work.

The rain eased for the morning. By late afternoon we set out on a shopping trip to Tesco, during which an almighty hatful more, despite being repeatedly replenished, was

thrown down on shoppers, trolleys, and cars alike.

Soon sunshine vied for dominance with the rain.

Wet ponies along Forest Road continued with the important work of stocking up on grass

alongside a new stream running down the moorland slope.

On our return along Forest Road ponies ran up the hill while a young woman, having passed both us and them, ran down.

This evening we all dined on Tesco’s spicy burgers; fried onions; sandwich gherkins; and French fries, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the GSM.

The Early Ponies Catch The Shade

I headed off the worst of the rising heat with an early dead heading session this morning, before Jackie and I set off for a sultry forest drive.

Beside dappled Holmsley Passage a splendid stand of Foxgloves could be spied through the trees. I wonder whether that ice warning sign will now be redundant.

The driver of ponies and trap on the equally brindled Bisterne Close pulled over for Jackie to drive past.

Marbled banks sloped on either side of Beechwood Lane where rooftop chimneys were discerned among lush undergrowth and a mossy log decayed on the verge.

Shade at the corner of Burley Lawn is at a premium on such a day.

A pair of ponies spooked by passing traffic risked losing their spot when they nipped across Chapel Lane and took their chances on the streaked tarmac.

Another troop, including a foal, heading for shelter were to be disappointed,

and forced to wait in the hope of chances of returns.

Further along stippled Chapel Lane cattle made do with the verge, occasionally spilling over to upset tourist traffic.

In addition to continuing his meticulous clearance of the gravel paths,

Martin this morning loaded his van with the bulk of the garden rubbish and took it away for us. He will do the same next week.

With the help of Wayback Machine I reinserted three missing pictures and added a header to the following post:

A Knight’s Tale (138: Notting Hill Carnival)

This evening we dined on Jackie’s first class beef and onion pie; potatoes sautéed with onions; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; firm Brussels sprouts; tender green beans; horseradish sauce, and meaty gravy, with which the Culinary Queen drank more of the Blume and I finished the Malbec.

Finding Their Feet

We began this morning’s forest drive by delivering loaned oil filled radiators to Elizabeth – we took three; she told us she had only lent us two and now was our own. That came back with us and was deposited in our garden shed at the end of our trip.

We were pleased to find that the post box on Pilley Hill was once more decorated with skilful yarn work.

The usual pair of swans glided along Hatchet Pond,

bringing their seven offspring into the mooring bay, in preparation for

a lesson in walking up a slippery slope. Father led the way with arguably the four fittest; followed by mother with three slower cygnets.

Parents periodically paused to preen,

as did this year’s progeny.

In any group there is always a straggler. So it was with this one.

Leaving Dad at the summit with siblings

Mum stepped back down to offer encouragement to the one who had had enough. We moved off before we learned whether or not she was successful,

looked at the waterlilies,

and continued to Ran’s Wood, where

the stream at the bottom of the slope is now drying up.

The roaring and lowing of cattle disappearing behind shrubbery along its path seemed in protest at the paucity of refreshment. Although I could not see them their sound shattered the sweet birdsong, the drone of an overhead aircraft, and the call of a cuckoo.

I settled for shots of ponies on the opposite hillside.

Along Furzey Lane a seated shaggy donkey and a couple of cows basked in the sunshine. In fact, apart from those on the move above, all the cattle we saw were lying down.

Another donkey still sporting winter wear enjoyed a good scratch at East Boldre until

joined by a friendly foal of the other equine kind.

This evening we all dined on tasty baked gammon; piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese; boiled new potatoes; and crunchy carrots, with which Jackie finished the Viognier and I drank Trivento Mendoza Malbec 2021.

Comparative Fly-Whisks

Jackie and I took an early forest drive this morning on which

may blossom, like this on Beaulieu Hill, has now followed blackthorn onto the hedgerows.

Opposite this sample we spotted a foal on the verge with a group of ponies.

Ruefully comparing her stubby little tail with her mother’s extensive fly-whisk she clung to the Dam’s flanks, frequently attempted to suckle, scratched with her hoof, and eventually settled seated on the daisy sprinkled sward,

which they kept at manageable length.

A young robin made use of the shadows for camouflage until taking to flight when I approached too near.

Yesterday I had not placed titles correctly on the flower gallery, but did so this afternoon when I also posted

these photographs of sections of the garden, photographed from upstairs windows, at the request of prolific blogger friend Judy Dykstra-Brown.

This evening we all dined on oven cod, chips, and onion rings; fried red tomatoes; green garden peas; pickled onions and gherkins, with which Jackie drank more of the Pinot Grigio and I drank Vineyards Zesty white wine.