The storm which began at mid morning yesterday continues to rage until, we are told, midnight today.
This was the view from our French windows 24 hours after we had laid down the furniture. We had left the blue wooden table standing because we thought it heavy enough to withstand the gales. We were wrong. Against the window behind the figure is wedged someone’s dustbin lid. To have reached its resting point it has to have sailed over a fence as if a giant’s Frisbee and slalomed along one or two of our paths.
Feeling as if I had joined Dorothy in the grip of a Kansas tornado, I made a very brief survey of damage. Aaron had firmly fixed the long, now broken, mirror lying on the gravel to the struts on the fence. Beside it flops clematis Campaniflora, also wrenched from its moorings on the arch spanning the path.
Between that fence and the patio stands an ornamental poplar. Its branches are being severely twisted. Out of shot is a hook attached to wire which is used to hold open the wrought iron gate. I clipped it into place to take the second photograph. With a thunder clap the gate slammed shut when the wire was snapped.
Here is a representative sample of crashed pots and a rose ripped from its ties. A final inventory will perforce be featured tomorrow.
This afternoon, to take her mind off the garden destruction – rather more than I photographed earlier – Jackie drove us to Mudeford, where I discovered that what breaks the heart of a gardener encourages pleasure seekers to rush to become blown about and thoroughly wet.
While their adults hunkered down in the car parks, the younger gulls bobbed about like rubber ducks in a wave bath.
Three or four of these unsuspecting youngsters suddenly appeared toting plastic packaging over which they squabbled.
From the quayside I was able to see both kite-surfers and sailboarders in the distance, operating from Avon Beach.
Crabbing was taking place as usual, however I was tempted to walk along to the beach for a nearer view of those engaged in water sports.
A gentleman rested his waking-boot-clad feet while his muzzled husky took a breather.
The powerful winds had been unable to uproot these secure mooring buoys.
Various groups wandered on and off the warm sands.
Skimming sailboarders and spraying surfers sped across stormy seas.
Races ensued;
other paths crossed.
While the winds were ushering me onwards, the walk to the beach had seemed quite a good wheeze. Not so the return during which, like the gulls in the air I laboured to stay still.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty new “prawns and stuff” – “stuff’ being peppers, tomatoes, and garlic; with Tesco’s firm fish pie; her own piquant cauliflower cheese; and crunchy carrots. We both drank Definition Gruner Veltliner 2017.