heather – derrickjknight

Why Budge? The Road Belongs To The Hoof

Soon after lunch we took a forest drive in hot temperatures between overcast clouds beginning to leak intermittent drizzle which called upon little stirring of the windscreen wipers until gradually requiring more regular rhythm, especially when large blobs gathered on branches splashed down beneath trees.

Heather is now colouring the moorland as seen on a slope at Crow Hill and the verges of Holmsley Passage

hugged by walkers as we passed.

A pony and foal grazed beyond the house at the bottom of the hill. Note the brand on the mare’s shoulder.

The pony planted on the road at Mockbeggar disdained to move from the time we approached; when Jackie negotiated us around her; while I disembarked to photograph others; to the time we departed. She may be there still.

Perhaps she considered there were too many equines and bovines on the green already.

One unfortunate animal blended freckles and flies.

Other carloads of people also disembarked to wander with the ponies;

a young heifer joined in the fun.

Cattle dotted the landscape alongside Abbotswell Road where an intriguing path led into the inviting woodland.

A very new donkey foal on Blissford Hill, its mother apparently unconcerned further up the slope, seemed unaware that anyone might be expecting it to budge.

Did you remember to note the earlier brand? Neither of the foals with branded mothers have yet received one. Their turn will come at the next annual roundup, known as the drift, when all ponies have a health check. https://derrickjknight.com/2016/08/30/the-drift/

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata with tender broccoli in bowls in front of the TV whilst watching highlights of the second and third days of the second Test match between England and West Indies.

Not Yet Completely Devoid Of Flies

This morning the skies were overcast and the temperature cooler.

After a Tesco shopping trip Jacki and I drove into the forest.

The small lake on Clay Hill, although still bearing reflections was drying , its crumbling banks

dotted with brambles, wild rose hips, and heather,

that Jackie photographed in close-up.

Bracken was beginning to brown; roots were exposed beneath the trees; acorns now dropping presaged the start of pannage; further up the hill more heather purpled the moorland up which a winding road ascended.

Although not yet completely devoid of flies ponies along Bisterne Close had emerged from the depths of the woodland which had been their recent refuge,

Friendly cyclists appreciated Jackie’s allowing them to pass in safety as she tucked the Modus into the verge.

After lunch warm sunshine returned to tempt out a slithering grass snake which Jackie made a good attempt at photographing before it slipped through a crack to safety.

This evening we all dined on Ashley fish, chips, mushy peas and curry sauce; Mrs Elswood’s sandwich gherkins; and Garner’s pickled onions, with which I finished the GSM and no-one else drank.

Sultry

For brunch, Jackie drove me to Hockey’s Farm Shop café, where we enjoyed our usual favourites, well cooked as always, and efficiently served in friendly manner.

As we left Burley ponies caused a traffic tailback as, oblivious of the vehicles, they settled in for a day of seeking what shade they could beneath trees, and such protection from flies as could be afforded by their nose to tail technique.

A couple of walkers found the prospect of stepping over droppings somewhat unpleasant.

When we returned this afternoon the animals had not moved much.

Others, already beset by flies, hugged a fence that seemed to have been reserved for them.

We needed to make way for an oncoming tractor on a narrow, dappled, section of Gorley Road.

Two ponies sought shade beneath tree alongside the Ibsley ford, from the stream under which another slaked its thirst.

Calves competed for space on a drinking trough beside Hyde Lane.

Jackie parked the Modus at Gorley Lynch while I disembarked to

photograph a distant stag with his roe deer harem.

At Poulner we encountered a steam traction engine.

Heather coloured the moorland either side of Holmsley Passage,

where I commended a pair of cyclists who had made it all the way up.

An apple tree grew on the moor beside Holmsley Road.

Along Tiptoe Road a pair of ponies drooped on the tarmac, opposite

a foal learning the reality of life with flies.

This evening we all dined on meaty pork bangers and fried onions; creamy mashed potato; crunchy carrots; firm broccoli stems; and piquant cauliflower cheese, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Côtes du Rhône Villages Plan de Dieu 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.

A Cattle Cluster

Jackie spent much of another very hot morning watering plants; I rendered some assistance with this, but mostly concentrated on dead heading and weeding down the Back Drive.

Before lunch I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/07/10/tower-blocks/

Afterwards we took a forest drive.

Along Sowley Lane we followed a tricyclist approached by a motorcyclist and bicyclists whom he acknowledged.

From St Leonard’s Road, with its dry verges,

beyond browning fields we had a clear view of the Isle of Wight and yachts on the Solent.

Tails twitching, cattle clustered, probably as protection from the irritating flies, in a field along Lodge Lane. One bothersome bovine, attempting to mount others, was repeatedly rebuffed.

Sunlight dappled treelined lanes like this unnamed one, which is why vehicles often keep their lights on as they constantly drive from darkness into light, and vice versa.

Among the moorland heather, gorse, and brambles, ponies – also coping with flies in the heat which seems to have exhausted a sleeping foal, consumed their vegan lunch.

After our trip we watched the Wimbledon men’s final between Novak Djokovic and Nick Kyrgios.

Our dinner this evening was similar to yesterday’s except that the Nando’s sauce was Peri Peri Lemon and herb with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Swartland Shiraz 2020.

Logistical Problems

Garden maintenance – mostly clearing up and dead heading – began early this morning for us both.

No doubt attracted by the redolent scent of roses released by the warm sunshine, bees buzzed and butterflies flittered around me as I wielded the secateurs.

Bees and Red Admirals both tried the fading Festive Jewel;

both also favoured verbena bonariensis,

as did Comma and Small White butterflies.

Worker bees were mostly partial to Summer Wine.

A little later we drove to Milford Pharmacy for a repeat prescription; to Tesco for E10 unleaded petrol; to Ferndene Farm shop for three bags of compost and various vegetables; and to the forest for a preprandial drive.

Heather beamed bright on the verges of Burley Road, while

a group of ponies were already sheltering under the trees at the corner of Burley Lawn, doing their best to switch off each other’s flies, by the head to tail method.

This presented some logistical problems arising from a certain size difference.

Later this afternoon I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/09/03/a-knights-tale-26-town-halls-trams-and-trolley-buses/

This evening we dined on oven fish and chips, onion rings, and peas, with which Jackie finished the Pinot Grigio and I drank more of the Comte Tolosan Rouge.

A Gentle Snow Plough

This morning I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/08/31/a-knights-tale-25-a-papal-honour/

By mid-afternoon the earlier Stygian gloom had lifted enough for us to drive to Puttles Bridge and back after buying another, larger, bag of tree bark mulch.

With barely a ripple the now very shallow Ober Water could hardly be said to flow under the bridge.

The root trip hazards, often framing pools of water, are now bone dry.

Two or three families were frolicking in what was left of the stream flanked by dappled woodland devoid of the usual mini-pools. I enjoyed a pleasant conversation with the mother in the first of these pictures, whose son, while manoeuvring a small dinghy, was heard to say “It’s not deep enough”. I told his Mum I had never heard that before.

Ponies, including a large foal, grazed beside the road.

A child had hopped home with one shoe.

Chips fell from a fallen tree.

On our return through Brockenhurst, a Highland cow, with its cumbersome rocking gait, lumbered among the patient vehicles.

Among the multicoloured heather on the moorland beyond the town, other, tail-swishing, ponies with another foal clinging to its mother, grazed or took their ease.

Two remained obdurately planted in the road until a tour bus, like a gentle snow plough, proceeded to shift them.

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork; boiled new potatoes; crisp Yorkshire pudding; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; moist sautéed peppers, mushrooms, and onions; and tasty gravy, with which Jackie drank more of Pino Grigio Blanc and I drank more of the Faugeres.

Head To Tail

A dull morning gave way to sunshine as we left to visit Shelly and Ron with a birthday present. After coffee and convivial conversation Jackie and I set off for a forest drive.

Heather, bracken, brambles, and gorse tangled together festooned the verges and the moorland alongside Burley Road.

Jackie parked on the gravel lay-by opposite the now powdery pony tracks along which I added my footprints to theirs across to Whitemoor Pond,

where ponies and cattle, drawing numbers of walkers sought the benefits of cooling water.

Ponies occasionally drank; cattle stood in silence broken only by the occasional canine yelp.

The stationary, uncomplaining equines, plagued by pesky flies, clustered together in groups, head to tail, flicking at each other’s persistent pests.

This afternoon I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/08/26/a-knights-tale-22-but-a-little-boy/

This evening we dined on our second helpings of last night’s Red Chilli takeaway with which Jackie drank more of the Greco di Tufo and I finished the Dao.

Unicorn Piñata

‘A piñata (/pɪnˈjɑːtə/, Spanish pronunciation: [piˈɲata] (listen)) is a container, often made of papier-mâché, pottery, or cloth, that is decorated, filled with candy, and then broken as part of a celebration. Piñatas are commonly associated with Mexico. The idea of breaking a container filled with treats came to Europe in the 14th century, where the name, from the Italianpignatta, was introduced. The Spanish brought the European tradition to Mexico, although there were similar traditions in Mesoamerica, such as the Aztecs’ honoring the birthday of the god Huītzilōpōchtli in mid-December. According to local records, the Mexican piñata tradition began in the town of Acolman, just north of Mexico City, where piñatas were introduced for catechism purposes as well as to co-opt the Huitzilopochtli ceremony. Today, the piñata is still part of Mexican culture, the cultures of other countries in Latin America, as well as the United States, but it has mostly lost its religious character.’ (Wikipedia)

During her stay here, Tess, for an upcoming birthday party, has produced this unicorn piñata using balloons, capable of being burst by boys with sharp implements, as containers for the papier-maché body trimmed with castellated slices of scrap paper; coloured tissue strips; and a twisted card horn.

It was a delicate operation for Tess to place her creation safely in the car.

This afternoon we led the family on a pony and donkey hunt.

At the top of Holmsley Passage we stopped for a foal and other ponies among the bracken and the heather.

We did encounter one baby donkey trotting with its mother along the road at South Gorley, but by the time we managed to park the cars it was long gone.

In fact the traffic, especially along the narrow lanes, was so congested as to make the trip somewhat abortive, until it was rescued by a trip to Hockey’s Farm Shop for ice cream and fun with the livestock of this establishment, where Poppy was pleased to

stroke a donkey;

see lamas;

pigs at trough;

geese blending with buddleia;

a horse attending to pedicure;

and especially chickens.

We parted at Hockey’s and each made our ways home.

This evening Jackie and I dined on chicken marinaded in Nando’s lemon and lime sauce; her own savoury rice, and fresh salad, with which she drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I drank more of the Douro.

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.