Tag: ford

Reflections On Floodwater

Our forest drive this morning was taken through very heavy fusillades of rain alternating with bright bouts of sunshine.

Surfaces of roads, lanes, fields, waterways, all glistened with the excess liquid dropped continuously by heavy clouds throughout the night.

The No BBQs sign on waterlogged Balmer Lawn beside the swollen Highland Water seemed a little unnecessary at the moment.

It was difficult for the naked eye to discern the difference between lawn and water,

or to distinguish between the yellow lines of the road markings at the verges beneath the surface reflections from above and the grassy islets bearing autumn leaves.

Beneath a bridge crossing Balmer Lawn Road, we sat weighing up whether to follow the warning posted beside the dicey looking road. So did another vehicle behind us, until this oncoming larger vehicle snowploughed its way over. We and our followers did the sensible thing, as did a number of others while we were amusing ourselves

with the Water Recycling Centre sign,

beside which I photographed wet leaves and Jackie photographed a tree trunk regularly bitten by a wire fence.

Tilery Road is a stretch of deeply potholed gravel along which the only smooth journey could be made by joggers and dog walkers who could simply slalom round the water-filled cavities the depth of which could not be gauged by car drivers. The waterlogged woodland flanking this should give readers an idea of how joint-ricking was this trip.

Many roads, like this one at North Weirs on the outskirts of Brockenhurst, had become shallow lakes, along which we all followed each other somewhat gingerly.

It was not surprising that Jackie was able to photograph a briefly lasting rainbow along Meerut Road.

This evening we all dined on more of Jackie’s penne Bolognese with which which she drank Zesty and I drank more of the Italian red wine.

Drying Up

It is normal practice for someone from New Forest District Council to mark areas of the tarmac for repair with white corner lines. These sometimes stay so long that they can be erased by traffic.

A BBC News item of 17th May concerning Lymington and its environment begins with “Potholes in neighbouring towns have been daubed with penis images in an apparent attempt to speed up repairs.

Hampshire County Council said the graffiti in Lymington and Milford-on-Sea would be removed when engineers assessed the holes.” (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-hampshire-65623391#)

Varying opinions are viewed in the article.

Today I photographed one in Ramley Road.

This was at the start of a forest drive after a successful hygienist clean of my elderly gnashers.

Dappled lanes enlivened our chosen route;

sunlight splashed the banked verges of South Sway Lane, while

the dribble of the drying stream beneath the ford on Holmsley Passage scarcely rippled what surface remained, and

Healthy grasses elegantly bent their heads beside it.

Cattle cropped the verges of Holmsley Road.

Shadows stretched across Bisterne Close, where the yellow flag irises and white water buttercups were now rooted in a dried up pool on the bed of which I stood to produce the third photograph in this gallery.

While we were out a veritable proliferation of foals had sprouted on Wotton Common. I wandered among them at will but only photographed a sample.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie topped with potato slices baked with the mince; piquant cauliflower cheese; firm Brussels sprouts, and tasty gravy; followed by Flo’s moist and well textured mango cake and custard, with which the Culinary Queen drank more of the Asahi, and I drank more of the Malbec.

Fire And Flood

Once again coinciding with a drop in outside temperature our boiler ceased functioning yesterday. We have a service booked for Thursday, 19th. and will manage until then.

With no Christmas decorations now wishing to remain undisturbed all round the fireplace and mantelpiece, we decided to light

the open fire in the sitting room.

We therefore drove to Streets in Brockenhurst to purchase coal, logs, firelighters, and two hot water bottles.

After a long spell of overnight rain there is normally a narrow puddle in the gutter outside our front entrance. Today this almost reached the middle of Christchurch Road and a long way down it.

As we watched other vehicles sailing past, and dodged their spray while waiting for a gap for us to enter the road and turn right, little did we know how much further flooding we would encounter.

The rest of the A337 stimulated spray waves at numerous locations.

For the first time in our decade here, the ford at Brockenhust was closed to traffic, the stream presumably being too deep for safety.

The lawn beside Meerut Road had become a reflective lake;

as had Balmer Lawn because its stretch of Highland Water

had burst both banks, its fast-moving currents sending squirming logs on their way until caught by other obstacles.

This evening we dined on barbecue spare ribs with Jackie’s flavoursome savoury rice. I drank more of the Syrah. The others didn’t.

An Unpleasant Condition?

This morning Jackie chopped up all the recent garden refuse too large to be composted, for burning, which Flo did this evening, or dumping at the recycling centre; I dead-headed and weeded.

For some days now we have been aware of a goldfinch incubating the contents of a nest in Wedding Day rose. We only have to walk under the supporting arch for the parent to fly off.

Jackie decided to photograph the nest as it is without the parent.

Or is it without a carer?

After lunch we took a forest drive.

Beside the ford at Brockenhurst, now bearing enough stream water for vehicles to create a splash,

a young foal, its too long legs splayed for grazing, attracted much attention from visitors and a friendly woman on a seat with a gentle dog on a leash. I wondered why the equally amenable foal appeared to have lost chunks of fur. Suddenly, coming face to face with the companionable canine, the spooked equine rushed round and round the green, eventually settling at a safe distance from the bench. Had the infant been attacked by a different dog? Was this a skin condition which needed attention?

The two adult ponies among the buttercups remained unconcerned.

At Waters Green cattle slept and ponies grazed,

foals having a penchant for ditches.

Jackie photographed me as I wandered among them,

and found her own foal in a ditch.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s pasta Bolognese or Carbonara, according to taste; Lidl Aberdeen Angus burgers; tender asparagus and green beans, with which I drank more of the Ponce de Leon and Flo drank mixed fruit cordial, while Jackie abstained.

Alfresco Dining

Much of this sunny morning was spent reminiscing with Becky.

Jackie and I lunched at our normal time. We then joined the others for theirs at The Beachcomber Café, Barton on Sea.

Flo took this photograph on the approach to the café.

Jackie and I enjoyed drinks while the others were impressed with the quality of the food served. Because the albeit extensive establishment was so full we had to dine alfresco and wait in line for that. The service of this family-run business was nevertheless friendly and efficient. As can be seen, Ian occupied himself with Sudokus, while Becky and Flo conversed happily. The final picture in this gallery is our granddaughter’s.

She also photographed me reacting to the apparent seizing up of my shutter while I was trying to capture

shadows of other diners. Fortunately the problem was resolved before they departed.

When we had finished at Beachcomber the others drove back to the house while Jackie and I continued into the forest. Foraging ponies grazed on the soggy turf or tore at hollies on Honey Lane.

The ford across Forest Road flowed faster than we have seen it before.

This mossy bank beside it looked decidedly damp.

Just outside Burley a bay pony also dined alfresco on the contents of a garden refuse sack.

For this evening’s meal Jackie produced roast lamb; sage and onion stuffing; Jersey Royal boiled potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts; tender runner beans, and meaty gravy, with which she, Becky and Ian drank Portuguese Rosé, Flo drank Apple and Mango juice, and I drank more of the Monastrell.

The Donkeys Didn’t Fancy It

After lunch Jackie drove us to Helen and Bill’s home at Fordingbridge to drop off a present.

Attracted by a couple of large mushrooms on the verges at I disembarked and wandered along photographing, in addition, bracken nestling beside an oak trunk, and lichen attached to fallen twigs on the forest floor and decorating another trunk.

The forded stream was racing and rippling along at a rate we have not seen before.

Cars sped splashing across;

a troop of donkeys gathered on the edge of the road-bridge, contemplated the torrent, then, deciding they didn’t fancy it, leaving one of their members with its foal to slake their thirst, turned back and

lined themselves neatly along the shrubbery for Jackie to photograph them through her windscreen and after stepping out of the car.

We returned via Woodgreen where I photographed the landscape around the River Avon, its swans and mallards, and cattle lolling alongside.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s warming winter meat and vegetable stewp, with fresh crusty bread. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cotes du Rhone.

A Nippy Little Pig

When I ran regularly across London to work I would adapt my route according to traffic conditions. This is what Jackie did early this morning as we took a drive in what we knew would be the very small window of reasonable light when she had to follow

a huge vehicle negotiating its way along Hordle Lane which was difficult enough without the Mums’, Dads’ and Grandparents’ school run. At the junction with Everton Road the large motor turned left so we continued straight on once the school crossing lollipop man granted his permission.

The stream meant to run under Holmsley Passage flowed fast over the ford. Having dropped me on the far side Jackie drove back through the water to present me with a photogenic splash.

I also pictured woodland with a fallen tree, and a grey pony more interested in us than in its relative trotting behind it.

On the moorland stretch of the road a burnished bay blended with browned bracken;

and billowing clouds soared above hazy landscapes.

There is always a large reflective pond on the left up Clay Hill.

Today a winterbourne stream provided another mirror on the right hand side.

In order for mobile phone masts to be permitted in the forest they are required to adopt an arboreal appearance. There is one at the bottom of this hill.

Pigs at pannage snuffled-snorted, as they burrowed their eager way into heaps of autumn leaves and muddy ditches, occasionally trotting backwards and forwards across Holmsley Road. The last three pictures in this gallery represent the slobbering mobbing to which I was subjected when I emerged from the car in order to photograph the mobile pork in search of a different kind of mast. It was difficult enough to dodge the trotters and keep focussed without being nipped in the back of the leg while attempting to capture the little Gloucester Old Spot. Fortunately neither my trouser nor my skin was penetrated.

The rain set in for the rest of the day after we returned home.

For this evening’s dinner Jackie produced a minced beef pie with a topping of potato slices; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; firm Brussels sprouts, and meaty gravy with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

Meerut Road

On another mild, sunny, morning we visited Mum in Woodpeckers Colten Care Home.

Firstly, Jackie parked in Butts Lawn along which I wandered with a camera.

At one end the ford water left its mark on the measuring gauge.

I walked alongside the rippling, fast-flowing stream watching swaying underwater weeds, scum-forming bubbles, and leaves whizzing by putting me in mind of Hans Andersen’s “Little Tin Soldier” in his paper boat speeding along the gutter. Sunbeams revealed autumn leaves and pebbles carpeting the bed, and a red-brick house was reflected in a roadside puddle.

At the other end stands a Telephone Box Book Exchange decorated with children’s drawings and a notice of Lockdown Precautions advising that the library contents will not have been sanitised.

The stream continues under the road bridge beside a splendid oak. The wooden railings are reflected in the crystal clear water.

Attempting to claim the last resilient leaf clinging to a maple on Meerut Road the gentle breeze tugged and twisted in vain.

‘Morant Hall, also known as New Forest Hall, once stood on the Lyndhurst Road approximately opposite Greenways Road, Brockenhurst.

Soon after the establishment of the Lady Hardinge Hospital for Wounded Indian Soldiers in c.1914 at what is now Tile Barn the facilities quickly became overcrowded. The hospital had tented and galvanized roofed buildings as patient accommodation and had commandeered Balmer Lawn and Forest Park Hotels.

Morant Hall was set up to take some of these patients in an attempt to relieve some of the overcrowding treating the Indian troops of the Meerut and Lahore Divisions, who fought on the Western Front, and were patients at the Lady Hardinge Hospital. The hall became known as the Meerut Indian General Hospital and was managed by a committee of local citizens and could provide accommodation for up to 120. …..Meerut Road in Brockenhurst [is named] in their memory.’ (Gareth Owen in https://nfknowledge.org/contributions/morant-hall-meerut-indian-general-hospital-morant-war-hospital/#map=10/-1.57/50.82/0/24:0:0.6|39:1:1|40:1:1 )

Despite the current Covid-inspired lockdown Colten Care continue to provide visiting facilities. We can see my mother through a glass screen for half an hour once a fortnight.

Mum was wheeled in and provided with a rug which she didn’t need to use. Jackie, who sits socially distanced beside me, and the garden behind our open door are reflected in the screen. Mother was on good, talkative, form.

In Sway Road, not far from Woodpeckers, a family of donkeys enjoyed scratching and tearing at the shrubbery. One left its post in order to discover whether I bore any treats.

This evening we dined on a rack of pork ribs in barbecue sauce, salt and pepper prawns, and Jackie’s savoury egg rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cotes du Rhone Villages.

Waterditch Road

I wasted the best part of a rainy afternoon wrestling with my scanner because I had planned to start a new series of slides and negatives, but it is so long since I worked on any of those that I managed to mess up the settings and couldn’t sort them out. I even downloaded a manual from the internet but couldn’t understand what to do with it. Children, grandchildren, great nieces and nephews – help me please.

My caring Chauffeuse, despite the increasing hammering of rain lashed by 50+ m.p.h. winds, dragged me out of my slough of despond by suggesting we went out for a drive.

We began on the eroded cliffs of Milford on Sea

along which I struggled against the gales.

Waves crashed against the rocks below and the Isle of Wight was barely visible to intrepid walkers.

Ripples blew across the car park; traffic control signs, and barriers to road works were flattened.

Continuing inland we listened to the mesmerising swish of windscreen wipers and the cacophony of clattering rain,

gazed on wet fields with neither sheltered livestock nor sensible wildlife in sight.

We were about to turn for home, but on such a day it seemed obligatory to investigate Waterditch Road. So we did.

As we traversed the ford over the stream that no doubt gave the road its name we felt grateful that we did not live in the house beside it.

British Summer Time does not end until 2 a.m. tomorrow morning, but, driving into headlights through Highcliffe soon after 5 p.m. one would never have known.

This evening we dined on toothsome baked gammon; crisp roast potatoes; succulent ratatouille; crunchy carrots; and tender runner beans with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Montpeyroux. Afterwards we enjoyed Jackie’s aromatic apple pie and cream.

‘My Way’s Cloudy’

This was a much milder day – the consequence of a wet, overcast morning. In anticipation of a possible break in the weather, we drove to Cadnam in ever-increasing rain. By the time we reached

Wittensford Lane the rain had ceased, clouds were on the move, and the sun took an occasional peek onto the landscape.

The stream flowed across the ford.

I watched Jackie sending spray either side of the Modus as she crossed the water,

and followed by way of the footbridge.

Reflections and oak leaves lay on and under the pools in the gutter

and the forded overflow.

We turned left into Kewlake Lane,

where, in order to focus on the landscape I stepped gingerly over fallen oak leaves covering lichen coated branches and barbed wire broken from a fence guarding

this scene.

Another roadside pool reflected overhead

naked oak branches set against the variable sky

which gave the landscape a light that belied the time of mid-afternoon.

Occasional flocks like these gulls speckled the skies.

While still on Kewlake Lane we approached silhouettes of sheep on a darkened ridge.

Nearer home, Sway Tower was just visible.

It must have been London’s Piccadilly Theatre in which I saw the musical show Black Nativity and bought the vinyl recording in 1962. Wikipedia tells us about the exhilarating   production which had come to London the year after its opening on Broadway. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Nativity

This memorable song ran through my head as I gazed up at these clouds.

Here is a “Where’s Nugget?” (51) Jackie made earlier. Biggifying the image is recommended as our resident robin attempts to hide behind an honesty seedpod.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious cottage pie; crunchy carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli; and tender cabbage with tasty gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Blue Moon and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2018.