Melodic birdsong and the plaintive burbling of an unattached wood pigeon, warmed by gentle sunshine, were pleasant accompaniments to my morning’s dead heading project, and the Head Gardener’s general tidying. After lunch, Jackie raked up her herbicide weeding on the back drive and I picked up the piles and transferred them to a bin.
As the day grew hotter, following a Ferndene Farm Shop visit, we went for a drive this afternoon. The shopping was for catering tomorrow, when Elizabeth and Jacqueline plan to bring Mum over for her main meal of the day.
Ponies of varying sizes exercised their right of way at the Forest Road junction leading to Holmsley Campsite, much to the amusement of visitors on either two or four wheels.
A number of cattle joined in the fun, although this black and white cow was more interested in making strenuous efforts to suckle from the brown one who didn’t appear to need milking and remained rather nonchalant about the process.
I ventured into the paddock at Braggers Lane,
where I photographed some of the riding horses, a few of which wore fly masks.
Bright red Rowan berries, like these in the Bransgore end of Forest Road, now gleam among green foliage above burgeoning bracken.
Knowing how hot it would be today we began early in the garden. My contribution was dead heading and a little clearing up.
Bees were early risers, too. Here one lands on lavender and another homes in on salvia.
Lilies are now blooming in the Patio Bed, and Special Anniversary rose has responded well to the recent care.
Later this morning we bought eggs, vegetables and salad ingredients at Ferndene Farm Shop and continued for a brief forest drive.
This picture of cyclists pushing their steeds up Holmsley Passage demonstrates why there is no safe passing space on this much-nibbled road.
In the silence of sun-dappled Bisterne Close, a trio of ponies tore hungrily at their breakfast grass. An unusual bird cry I think may have been an owl, answered by another from quite some distance.
Walkers and cyclists passed me on Cotts Lane while I photographed foraging ponies. It became crowded enough around the Modus for me to wonder whether I would able to return to my seat. Eventually Jackie shifted the car.
As usual in very hot weather, ponies gathered under the trees providing a canopy across Forest Road. This caused considerable consternation among visitors, and I found myself guiding some drivers through their necessary slalom. The woman in the header picture needed to clear the equine legs not quite visible in the left foreground, and straighten up without butting the rear of the animal to the right. She was quite grateful.
After lunch we tackled more path clearance, and this evening Jackie occupied herself watering many of the plants and containers.
We dined on a second helping of yesterday’s Red Chilli takeaway meal with which I drank Kingfisher and Jackie drank Haraszthy Suvignon Blanc 2020.
This morning we each tackled the weeding of the Shady Path from opposite directions. Jackie began in the left hand picture; I progressed in the right. We aim to meet at the bench. The Head Gardener says the last one there is a sissy.
Meanwhile the rhododendrons in the Palm Bed are filling out nicely. Please ignore the wild garlic in the second image.
Having moved the stone urn from the front of the Pond Bed, Jackie carefully planted it up after lunch.
We then took a trip to Ferndene Farm Shop to purchase eggs, salad items, and trailing petunias, after which we drove into the forest.
When we turned into Forest Road a bunch of cattle were occupying the tarmac and the verge. Jackie parked the Modus so I could follow them with my camera. As they left me trailing they rapidly began to disappear from sight. Jackie caught me up and transported me to a point ahead of them.
Most of the cattle crossed the road into woodland opposite.
One young heifer was rather left behind, and stopped for a drink, no doubt to ease its throat,
strained by its incessant efforts to imitate the Isle of Wight foghorn.
Her plaintive bellowing was ignored by the rest of the group.
Eventually, still bawling, she returned to the road and, with the usual awkward gait, walked up the hill and, stretching her neck, stood on the bend further straining her voice. Several hundred yards further on we noticed another small bovine gathering, and Jackie, probably correctly, surmised that she had become attached to the wrong herd. We assumed she would find her own family.
Some weeks ago, my friend Barrie Haynes asked me to review a book by a member of his group. This is ‘In the Dead of Night’ by Richard Allen. It is the sixth in a crime fiction series published by Amazon. I finished reading it today.
Without spoiling the story I can say that it reads rather like a film script, published last year, and, given that it is mostly written from the viewpoint of the interviewing detectives, put me in mind of the contemporary ‘Line of Duty’ series. The author brings his knowledge of police procedures gleaned from his career in the service.
It is, nevertheless, an engaging mystery. The spare prose of the short sentences is packed with precise detail, even to the extent of times being quoted to the minute, as if extracted from a policeman’s notebook. This helps move the pace along. The longer paragraphs do not always flow so well.
Author’s notes, given at the end of the book, differentiate between fact and fiction in the narrative.
My copy is not paginated which made it rather difficult to know where I was at times, and a certain amount of further proof reading would have been helpful.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s savoury rice packed with vegetables and topped with a thick omelette; Lidl rack of pork ribs in barbecue sauce; and tender runner beans, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Recital Languedoc Montpeyroux 2018.
On a decidedly dank morning we took a damp drive to Ferndene Farm Shop via Otter and Everton Garden Centres. We didn’t find what we were looking for in the garden centres, but the Ferndene shop was well stocked and not crowded.
We returned home via Holmsley and Forest Road.
Although there were a number of walkers on Forest Road,
where Jackie parked the Modus while I wandered woodland with my camera,
just three sheltering ponies beside Burley Golf Course seemed to be only ponies we would see.
I squelched across the muddy terrain
with its fresh, reflecting, pools;
bright green moss- and lighter coloured lichen-covered woodland, smelling of delicious damp.
It must have been a long-necked creature that nibbled this zipper up a slender trunk;
possibly a relative of this pony that emerged from the forest and crossed the road in front of as we moved off. Naturally I had to disembark once more and pay my respects.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome savoury rice; a thick omelette; and a rack of pork spare ribs marinaded in plum sauce, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Bonpas.
The Golden Cockerel Press was an English fine press operating between 1920 and 1961. Its history and further information can be found in https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Cockerel_Press.
Tapster’s Tapestry is a little gem of satirical phantasy published in 1938 which I finished reading last night. These two illustrations are of the title page and the jacket, repeating one of the full page illustrations and made of stiff cartridge paper, still intact after 82 years.
Gwenda Morgan’s illustrations are good examples of her period.
As we left the house for a forest drive this afternoon we admired the tenacity of this strongly scented climbing rose clinging to life suspended by a stem broken by the recent storm Alex.
Today was unseasonably warm with sunshine and showers subject to fast moving clouds photographed at various autumnal locations including
Bennets Lane;
Anna Lane;
and Forest Road
with its now replenished reflective pools.
Ponies enhanced the landscape on the road to Burley
where curly tailed piglets buried their snuffling, snorting, snouts in their frantic competitive foraging for acorns.
I am delighted to report that there was plenty of Jackie’s chicken and leek pie for another sitting served with crisp roast potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; tender cabbage, and meaty gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Montpeyroux Recital 2018.
Last night I finished reading ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ by Colombian Nobel prizewinner Gabriel Garcia Marquez. First published in Argentina in 1967 this book was in the forefront of magical realism, and, as such, made the author anxious about its reception. Although there were some detractors the work has remained popular for more than the following half century.
Magic there is in abundance in the flowing, descriptive, language, the characterisation and the fantastic tales therein. The reality comes in the breadth of the inventive development of the 20th century. As usual I will not even attempt to tell the story, but can, without revealing too much, say that by tracing the imaginative history of a nation-founding dynasty, the writer symbolises the making of South America and of the world.
My 1991 edition, part of Jonathan Cape’s collected set, contains a family tree which goes some way to unravelling who’s who in this saga of longevity of a family whose members often share similar names.
Gregory Rabassa has produced the translation from the Spanish, which I can only assume is true to the original.
Late this morning Jackie drove me to Milford on Sea for Peter to cut my hair at Sears Barbers.
This afternoon I bagged up another heap of the Head Gardener’s rose clippings, then tied up some stems of red
Super Elfin and pink Penny Lane accompanying clematis Dr Ruppel on the Gothic arch.
Later we drove into the overcast forest which seemed overpopulated with lethargic ponies and cattle. I chose to focus on just two of the equines who occupied the usual central spot on Forest Road.
Tails twitching, they rapidly departed the safety of the oak tree, and adopted the customary head to tail stance enabling each to whisk away at flies irritating their partner’s muzzle. No way were they going to budge for any vehicles which could only pass the stubborn barrier by lurching off the eroded edge of tarmac at risk to their undercarriage.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent ‘sunflower’ beef pie; swede mash; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; with meaty gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Beck’s and I finished the Malbec.
As I sit at my computer early in the morning reading regular WP posts, I am treated to
the gently swaying delights of Stargazer lilies and fuchsia Delta’s Sarah in the front garden.
Unidentified lilies graced the dragon bed where,
observed by a basking ladybird,
I dug holes for two more roses set to climb the Head Gardener’s recently purchased arch. Hopefully they will soon rival the runner beans in the Palm Bed.
A trip to the compost bins revealed dahlias and a fuchsia blending nicely in the New Bed alongside what I think is a Meadow Brown butterfly drinking from a verbena bonariensis.
This afternoon we drove to Bisterne Close to deliver the print made yesterday and enjoyed a conversation with Jan and Steve.
Afterwards we turned into Forest Road where
this pony produced a natural silhouette.
Passing sunlit bracken by the roadside,
I followed a pair of grey ponies into
the more major Ringwood Road where they joined a group of cousins in exercising their right over the traffic leaving and entering Burley.
This evening we dined on tasty baked gammon; crisp roast potatoes; cheesy macaroni pie; crunchy carrots and broccoli; and tender runner beans with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Carles.
Today’s weather was hot and humid with intermittent sunshine.
We gardened in the morning.
I am delighted to report that Nugget is alive and well and was in his customary attendance. Those readers who suggested that he might be moulting were clearly correct.
Jackie concentrated largely on the Rose Garden where, among other tasks, she planted some tall lavenders. Among my usual tasks I had not included digging since the first knee surgery. Our soil remains bone hard and I decided to attempt to relieve her of some of it.
I found this surprisingly easy. It may look as if this is my left foot; in fact it is the right one reflected in the mirror against the east fence. This was particularly pleasing since that leg was the subject of the most recent replacement.
Hydrangea Lanarth White sets off fuchsia Mrs Popple in the Orange Shed corner of the Rose Garden; yellow black eyed Susan and orange marigolds are planted in a chimney pot beside the West Bed; a red pelargonium fronted by an ornamental grass stands at the base of the gazebo which bears a blue clematis.
This afternoon, after shopping at Milford Supplies for a pair of hinges, we took a drive into the forest where graced with the presence of a plethora of ponies.
A family of three cropped the verge at the entrance to Bisterne Close, while, further along
a mare did her best ignore her colt persistently attempting to suckle.
As often on such a sultry day somnolent ponies clustered together beneath the shade of their favourite trees, spilling across Forest Road carrying out their own traffic calming project. Cyclists managed to weave in and out, while car drivers were required to demonstrate good natured patience.
Other equines rolled among dried droppings on the cropped grass, or undertook assiduous mutual grooming.
One of Aaron’s tasks this morning was to embed into the soil of the front garden this previously potted Hot Chocolate rose,
near which is a planter containing last autumn’s petunias, pansies, and pelargonium, alongside a euphorbia. Similar survivors of our mild winter are the clematis, nasturtiums, pansies, and solanum adorning the garage door trellis.
This afternoon we took a short drive into a rather crowded forest. We encountered far more cars, cyclists, and walkers than of late. By and large social distancing was being observed, but in the village of Burley, for example, this wasn’t really possible.
A bovine mother and babies group was meeting in what is normally an unoccupied field alongside Hordle Lane. As always with these creatures my presence engendered a certain amount of curiosity.
Soon after we entered Forest Road we saw two herons trying their luck in what is now a rather shallow pool. Jackie parked as soon as she could and I walked back to photograph them standing in the water. A cyclist shot round the corner and spooked them. They took flight. I panned them and hoped for the best; almost immediately I was left, like the pool, reflecting.
Further along the road
assorted foraging ponies were strewn across the landscape.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s well filled, flavoursome, beef and mushroom pie; boiled new potatoes, crunchy carrots and broccoli, with tasty, meaty, gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Becks and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2018.
Jackie spent the morning and part of the afternoon in the garden. Later she drove me into the forest for a short trip.
Ponies cast their shadows on the sward beside Holmsley Road. One enjoyed a good scratch.
Two mares suckled their foals. In the first picture the youngster is in the process of rising for a feed. The adults are so ungainly when they heave themselves upright that I was quite surprised at the nimbleness of the little one. The mother ignored the flies crawling over her muzzle. The grey became a little self-conscious at my approach; unplugged her infant; and moved off. Her persistent progeny latched on from the other side. I left them in peace.
While Jackie waited in the Modus I took a walk down the far end of Forest Road outside Burley as far as the very dry ford and back.
The high banks and exposed roots at each side of the lane betray its ancientness.
The stream is so very dry that much of the gravel bed is exposed; reflections on the shallow surface mingle with the small strip that does contain a smattering of liquid; and the depth gauge stands proud of solid ground.
I was not the only photographer focussed on groups of small Highland cattle on the outskirts of Bashley where a calf was learning to forage.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata; pepperoni pizza; onion, tomato, and mozzarella salad; and juicy ratatouille, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cabernet Sauvignon.
