foals – Page 4 – derrickjknight

Shadows And Reflections

This morning I made a good start on clearing the upstairs sitting room for occupation. The many pictures have been stacked up for final sorting – those for passing on, others which have frames that may be useful to Charity Shops, and those which can be ditched. Eventually various items of furniture will find their own positions.

This afternoon I posted:

Foreign Affairs

Later, Jackie and I took a forest drive.

Our first stop was on Brockenhurst Road where ponies often gather and vie for shelter beneath two spindly trees.

An equine Kindergarten was taking place at the corner of Rhinefield and Meerut Roads. It was sleep time for the younger foals.

Further along bright woodland reflections lit the surface of the stream slowly flowing under Rhinefield Road.

This evening we all dined on tender roast lamb; roast potatoes, including the sweet variety; firm cauliflower, carrots, and broccoli, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden; Becky, Zesty; Ian, Moretti; Flo, Elderflower Cordial; and I more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

A Miracle

Early this morning Jackie and I bought more bedding plants from Ferndene Farm Shop, then continued into the forest.

Much of the day, though still warm, was overcast with the occasional smattering of rain. As we drove up Bolderwood Drive the contrasts in the woodland light from

dull

to sun-splashed was quite marked. As usual each of the above images bears a title in the gallery.

Jackie parked the car at Milkham so that I could walk back to photograph these ponies occupying the landscape.

She photographed me walking back through the heather laden moorland.

Further along the road a group of ponies and their foals wandered onto the tarmac. All along this stretch of road the only possibility of vehicles avoiding nose to nose confrontation is by waiting in the designated passing spots, so it will be obvious that the approaching cyclists had more chance of evading the ponies than we did.

Off the road a pair of adults groomed each other, whilst a foal wandered off.

When we reached Appleslade, a similar youngster left his mother’s side until

she began frantically to roll

from side to side,

arching her back,

in a desperate attempt to

dislodge the flies that tormented her lactating teats.

It was a miracle that her hoofs did not clatter into her anxious progeny

who then emulated his mother.

This afternoon I watched the thrilling rugby Premiership cup final between Leicester and Saracens.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s tasty pasta Bolognese supplemented by left over pizzas with which she drank Hoegaarden, Becky drank Zesty, Ian drank Amoretti, and I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Rich Pickings

This morning Nick completed his painting of the garden room and vacuumed and tidied everything, as he always does.

After lunch Jackie drove me into the forest.

As I walked down the slope from Wilverley Road to capture the views of Longslade Bottom, its landscape festooned with ponies, foals, and dog walkers

I noticed buttercups and daisies on the lush verges and blackberry blossom and ferns flanking the stony tracks produced by generations of wildlife.

At the corner of the dog-rose-lined Armstrong Lane on the approach to Brockenhurst a small group of ponies including a leggy foal and their short limbed Shetland acolyte grazed among glowing buttercups; while another group preferred to shelter in the dappled shade. Perhaps the couple in the last image, prone to weird moaning sounds and a certain amount of head butting, were engaged in some kind of unrequited courtship ritual.

On the bridge over the ford at Brockenhurst a group of amused tourists photographed ponies on the road.

Along Meerut Road a woman approached a small highland cow, and seemingly oblivious of this bovine, stood beside it photographing the landscape and pointing out something of interest to her male companion.

I wandered over to a pony and foal and discovered that some small corvine creatures had found rich pickings at the equine hoofs.

This evening we all dined on Becky’s flavoursome savoury rice; succulent chicken Kiev; fresh salad; and tomatoes with mozzarella and basil. Jackie, our daughter, and son-in-law drank Rosé Prosecco; I drank Château Sainte-Clotilde Blaye Côtes de Bordeaux 2018; and Flo abstained.

Burning Garden Refuse

Today Nick applied first coats of paint to the Garden Room.

In the meantime, with minor assistance from me, Jackie burnt the garden refuse unsuitable for composting.

Later this afternoon Jackie and I took a short forest drive.

Along Forest Road a pair of ponies and foals set off into the shrubbery as I walked across to them with a camera round my neck.

Another foal clambered to its feet as I approached, and sought the comfort of its mother.

I spoke to the owner of a frisky spaniel and suggested that it might disturb the foals. He replied that she was a good girl and would not worry the ponies. I had to acknowledge that she was not doing so at the moment.

We stopped along Wilverley Road where I did not disturb another mother and baby.

A red postbox remains outside Postbox Cottage in Wootton Road. It has been decorated with a yarn crown to celebrate Queen Elizabeth II’s Platinum Jubilee.

This evening we all dined on Papa John’s pizzas, with which Jackie and Ian drank Hoegaarden, Becky drank Diet Coke, and I finished the Durif Shiraz, while Flo abstained.

There Are No Pale Grey Foals

Preparation is an oft overlooked essential part of house decoration – especially if this has not been adequately carried out for decades. Such has been the case with our home which Nick Hayter has transformed over the years.

He spent several hours on this today.

This afternoon I made him some prints from today and yesterday, notably yesterday’s opening portrait.

Later, Jackie and I took a forest drive.

We had hoped the postbox on Pilley Hill would have been decorated by the anonymous yarn artist in honour of the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee.

We were not disappointed.

I crossed the moorland alongside Furzey Lane in order to photograph

ponies and their foals who rapidly showed me several clean quads of heels.

I was apparently less disturbing on the outskirts of Ran’s Wood

where an equine mother and baby group was clearly in progress. Realising that the young woman who was riding about among them was in conversation with some, I asked her if they were hers. Two of the mares and three of the foals were – she was happy to be a Commoner. We enjoyed a friendly discussion during which she confirmed our impression that grey mares never produced foals born with their colouring. The infants have much darker hides which may or may not lighten as they grow into adulthood, Even then it is not guaranteed.

This evening we dined on fusion leftovers: Jackie’s cottage pie; Angela’s chicken dish; vegetable samosas and sag aloo from Tesco; chicken sag and sag paneer from Red Chilli. This made for a truly tasty melange with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden, Flo drank raspberry and lemon Kombucha, and I drank more of the Malbec. Strawberries and ice cream finished us off.

A Hanging Out Nest

Jackie spent a hot, sunny, cloudless morning continuing her planting while I dead-headed poppies and roses and pulled up a few weeds.

Flo joined us on a trip this afternoon beginning with a visit to Otter Nurseries for more plants, and continuing into the forest.

Foxgloves lined the verges along Warborne Lane where a burrow probably housed the rabbits which kept popping up along the way.

We visited the Hatchet Moor section of Hatchet Pond, where Flo and I both photographed each other photographing donkeys and foals. Individual authorship is, as usual, detailed in the galleries (mine don’t bear my name). This is also true of the next ones, including

cattle and calves;

water lilies, one bearing a damselfly;

mallards, swans and cygnets hanging out on a makeshift temporary nest.

Flo added foxgloves in the landscape;

also an oyster catcher while I pictured a black headed gull.

Finally, at East Boldre I focussed on a fly-tolerant pony with her sleeping offspring.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s savoury rice, with prawn preparations – tempura and hot and spicy – and gyoza, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

New Life And Old

I have now received the money from Mum’s frozen bank account. No-one appears to have thought to inform me until I opened my on-line banking to pay a bill and noticed that there was rather more than expected in that – almost a week after it had been transferred. I had also been sent cheques representing Premium Bond winnings, so one of today’s various administrative tasks was to pay those in. I also paid the coming year’s car tax.

Then Jackie and I went for a forest drive.

We stopped on Rhinefield Road where I photographed neighing ponies and

wandered among the woodland, which,

among decaying broken and mossy trunks, nurtured fresh ferns replacing last year’s dried remnants.

The forest floor, with sections soggy or crunchy harboured a generous mix of old and new.

From Bratley View two spectral dead trees still stand against the sky while those with flourishing foliage adorn the living landscape. Last year’s controlled burning gorse will now rejuvenate among the ferns.

Outside Brockenhurst an adult pony grazed nonchalantly whist her offspring held up the traffic.

Another young foal, investigating mossy posts and bright buttercups, was less keen to wander.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent cottage pie; firm carrots, broccoli and cauliflower, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Shiraz.

A Surfeit Of Foals

This afternoon Jackie drove me into the forest. She spotted a possibly sleeping foal on the verge of Wilverley Road and parked the car so I could walk back to find the prone animal.

As I reached it it clambered to its feet and sought

the comfort of its mother who twitched her tail, perhaps wishing to deter the suckler and necessitating a hoof-scratch.

On my return to the car I photographed the woodland landscape,

followed by that at Wilverley Pit which accommodated its own scattered herd.

The South Weirs telephone box just outside Brockenhurst has now become a public book exchange as have so many now surplus to requirements because no-one uses them any more.

Another foal on the opposite side of the road from the box took great interest in the roadside furniture, essentially traffic calming devices such as the narrowing of the access negotiated by this

Vintage Hot Rod Society member.

Another foal lay among other ponies on the outskirts of Beachern Wood,

where a squirrel stop-start jerked its way across a five-barred gate.

Ober Water is a little fuller than on our last visit, and reflects the surrounding trees, many of the roots of which have been exposed by decades of rivulets.

Some of those roots even span arms of the stream.

I reached the stage where there were so many foals about that I stopped photographing them.

This exceptional group, planted on a bend in the road and consequently causing traffic to make a very wide berth warranted further attention.

This evening we dined on more of the baked gammon; plump chicken thighs; macaroni cheese; crunchy carrots; tender runner beans; and tangy red cabbage, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Faugères.

The House In The Wood

This afternoon Jackie, Flo, Elizabeth, and I visited The House in the Wood garden outside Beaulieu, under the National Gardens Scheme. The photographs can speak for themselves, although each one is titled in the gallery.

Beside Hatchet Lane on our return home we encountered our first foals of the season:

both donkeys,

and ponies, one of whom had some difficulty when attempting to suckle.

After the visit Elizabeth dropped off at her home en route and then joined us for dinner, which consisted of Jackie’s succulent sausages in red wine; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots; and firm broccoli and cauliflower. My wife and sister drank the last of the Picpoul de Pinet; I finished the Fitou; and Flo drank water.

Lunch At The Rising Sun

On a morning of sunny intervals, Jackie and I nipped out to buy bread and took the opportunity for a short forest drive.

The heather on the moorland straddling Holmsley Passage is glowing purple, and the bracken beginning to yellow.

Several cyclists crossed Holmsley Passage in their trip along the gravelled path converted from former railway tracks of one of the lines destroyed by the Beeching/Marples combination of the 1960s.

Ponies and foals were cropping the verges of Bisterne Close.

We lunched with Mat, Tess, and Poppy at The Rising Sun at Bashley. Despite the hundreds of customers in this extensive establishment, we were all impressed with the speed and efficiency of the service and the excellence of the meals. Mine consisted of steak and ale pie, chips, peas, carrots, and cabbage with thick, meaty gravy, followed by ginger sponge and custard. I drank Otter ale.

There were not quite as many ponies outside the pub as in this image from 2017, but enough to give credibility to my prediction that there would be a sighting.

Our granddaughter met another contemporary called Poppy and her sister Florence – the names of our Poppy and her cousin, Becky’s daughter.

Afterwards, Tess and Poppy drove off to a beach, while the rest of us returned home and flopped.

Later, the others grazed while I didn’t.