Tag: horses

Rugs Still Required

Belying the cold wind which did not lessen until late afternoon, the such shone between fast moving fluffy cotton clouds. A brief garden survey revealed a few broken plant stems and one smashed owl. We decided to return to the clearance work tomorrow, and go out for a drive after lunch.

Martin from Crestwood flooring visited this morning to take measurements for our next refurbishment project. I then began drafting Danni’s guest post, ‘Ella And The Bin Men’ which I posted before we went out.

We began our trip at Milford on Sea where the waves were very choppy and the wind,

against which Jackie photographed me battling, blustering fiercely.

While the Assistant Photographer was intent on catching me with gulls, I aimed to catch them frolicking on the thermals,

after which they would bask and blink in the warmth of the car park tarmac.

Across the Solent the cliffs of the Isle of Wight were in clear view, and gorse on our side tumbled down the ever-eroding cliffs beneath which painted beech huts nestled.

Small groups walked along the promenade and couples played bowls.

Just as we were leaving, Jackie photographed an oil rig far out to sea.

We turned inland and drove past roofers at perilous work along Barton Court Road.

On the Norley Wood end of Burley Road a garden encampment seemed to have taken a buffeting.

I disembarked at Braggers Lane to focus on

landscapes on both sides.

Gnarly shadows sprawled along the verges; a recently ripped branch stretched across the sward.

Riding horses occupying a field on my left still wore rugs during this period when the night temperatures are still close to zero centigrade.

Cattle on the other side lay down in a line, keeping the grass warm.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s hot and spicy lamb jalfrezi and pilau rice with which I drank more of the Fleurie. These pots contain enough for a good five meals.

Highland Games

Late this morning we visited Mum in Woodpeckers where she continues to thrive. This time she availed herself of the blanket provided.

Afterwards we drove into the forest for a picnic in the car.

The day was cooler and overcast. From the bridge on Rhinefield Road I obtained enough light to photograph reflections in the stream.

Still host to a small holly tree, the toppled ancient oak at Bramshaw has now been completely cleared away,

with the exception of fallen leaves now camouflaging foraging wagtails.

A pair of donkeys leaning beside a brick wall watched

a couple of Highland cattle pondering their next move. I have often photographed them before, but not until today have I been formally introduced to Splash and Blackie. They stood aloof while a young lady did the honours.

As I returned to the car they heaved their lumbering bulks onto the tarmac and with swaying gait set off in the direction of Furzley Common which was our destination. Fortunately Jackie was able to negotiate our way round them.

We parked beside a stream and settled into our lunch when

a regular clop of horses’ hooves alerted me to the approach of a carriage and four passing a herd of cattle who were themselves soon to feature in our story.

Having journeyed a lumbering mile from Bramshaw the two Highland cattle approached and set up a regular lowing. “I wonder if they are going to join those cattle over there?”, I mused.

They were, indeed. In Splash’s case somewhat vigorously. It is not just the local flora that are confused about the season.

As I was about to return to the car a quartet of portly porkers approached. I was forced to attempt to evade the attentions of the Gloucester Old Spot. Jackie’s cackles from within almost drowned the snorting slobbering of my new admirer as she raised her dripping snout for a kiss. I was scared of this, but even more scared of her feet as she rounded me beside the car door. Being trodden on by a creature weighing up to 280kg was no joke. In the circumstances I thought my Chauffeuse was a little harsh.

This evening we dined on crisply roasted chicken thighs, sage and onion stuffing, parsnips, and Yorkshire pudding; piquant cauliflower cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; firm carrots, peas, and Brussels sprouts, and tasty gravy, with which we shared the last of the Rioja.

What Now?

It was a pair of grey ponies at the crossroads that prompted me to ask my willing Chauffeuse to park beside

the stream at Ibsley ford, where a story began to unfold.

The greys, casting their shadows in the morning sunshine, were mirrored by a couple of cyclists engaging in a lengthy conversation before parting and going their separate ways.

Leaving its companion to admire her silhouette, the lead pony

climbed to a higher level and, despite acorns being poisonous to horses, began to snuffle around them.

A kindly woman parked nearby, left her vehicle, and began lobbing apples in the direction of the animal that had remained on the green. You may need to bigify these pictures to see the airborne fruit just beneath a cycle wheel.

Having emptied her carrier bag the lady returned to her car and continued on her way, leaving the recipient of her largesse wondering what to do next.

There are a number of mighty oaks at this location. Here, one is host to an intriguing fungus; another leans over a stream; and a third casts long shadows.

This comparative youngster has seen better days.

Visiting holiday children spent many happy hours on this makeshift swing.

On the other side of the ford the continuing stream

has recently been bridged by a fallen tree which will see no better days.

I photographed some autumn leaves and turned to find that

Jackie had been focussed on me.

In nearby fields, reflecting the much colder, albeit bright, weather, field horses are back in their winter rugs.

We drove on to Hockey’s where we brunched, even though on technically takeaway meals, this time in

a warm covered dining area with its antique displays.

We had travelled to the north of the forest in search of peckish pannage porkers, but the only ones we met were these on Hockey’s pots.

On the road to Gorley I photographed a fence and its accompanying gate; a lane with smoke wafting past a thatched cottage; and sunlight piercing the same vapours within the dappled woodland.

Jackie meanwhile focussed on

the ancient craft of hedge laying

and a winsome weather vane, in the process pausing for the wind to produce a pleasing direction.

Later, we presented a dilemma to a hind and fawn imitating a pair of rabbits in headlights. They eventually decided to take the road ahead, until they encountered an oncoming woman. What now?

The walker moved aside and they scampered back into the trees.

This evening we dined on oven fish, chips, and peas with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.

Those Who Persevered

While I photographed Jackie pruning Wedding Day, which, with her further endeavours elsewhere this morning, provided me with more clippings to chop and bag up this afternoon,

I spotted a shield bug riding a nearby hibiscus.

Later this afternoon we went in search of the surviving entries of the Hordle Scarecrow Trail.

These entries have already featured in earlier posts.

This one, in Stoneleigh Avenue, entitled ‘Key Workers and Caped Crusaders’, suffered badly in the recent storms.

In Sycamore Road, Pierre Latour celebrated a ‘Tour de France’ victory.

Dominic Cummings’s weak eyesight excuse for flouting lockdown restrictions was displayed in Sky End Lane.

Hordle Pharmacy in Ashley Lane, normally a regular entrant, did not register this year, although these two beauties feature in the shop window.

We were unable to view two others: one was destroyed in the storms, another is a hairdresser’s submission placed outside the shop when it is open – not on Saturday afternoons.

Those who persevered with this year’s fraught event are to be congratulated.

After the Hordle tour we continued into the forest, pausing at Coombe Lane where I photographed masked horses and inquisitive cattle atop a tumbling landscape where bonfire smoke resembled a spraying waterfall.

This evening we dined once more on Jackie’s splendidly succulent beef pie; very tasty gravy; boiled new potatoes; tender cabbage and crunchy carrots and cauliflower with which she drank Beck’s and I drank Gestos 2018, a sublimely smooth Malbec.

A Splendid Oak

On this hot, humid, and overcast morning our friend Giles visited for a tour of the garden he had not been able to enter since before the lockdown.

We enjoyed a pleasant catching up, continued over coffee inside.

This afternoon, after filling up with petrol, Jackie drove me to the north of the forest.

The ponies again gathered on Ringwood Road outside Burley, but largely stuck to the verges where they nibbled hedges and left deposits in driveways.

I disembarked at the Smugglers Road car park and climbed a well-trodden pony trail

so dry that it had partially turned to sand.

Various similar tracks wound across the arid moorland hillsides among the banks of purpling heather.

We drove along the lanes around Linwood where woodsmoke filled the air;

and along the cup de sac to Highwood where I aroused the curiosity of a pair of heavy field horses.

Just outside Ibsley a splendid oak stretched wide its arms.

This evening we dined on lean, slow roasted, brisket of beef; roast garlic potatoes; crisp Yorkshire pudding; crunchy carrots; and tender sweetheart cabbage, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Carles.

A Modern Day Drove

Beneath cloudless cerulean skies we took an early drive into the forest this morning.

A cool breeze blew along sun-dappled lanes like these named

Rodlease

and Church.

At a corner of the latter a tractor ploughed a field some distance from a couple of grazing workhorses within view of adjacent woodland.

Along the road to Beaulieu a number of pools scooped out by generally regular rains have been dry for most of this year, which must be disappointing for

foraging ponies and their foals.

Peering ahead along St Leonard’s Road we discerned that a developing traffic delay had been caused by a modern day cattle drove executed in a more comfortable manner than the cowboys of old by a couple of motorised farmers herding them to their home field fronting the Isle of Wight. At one point I disembarked and attempted to keep pace with the animals while slaloming round splatted pats littering the tarmac. I had no chance of catching them.

Further along the lane a familiar string of ponies trotted on the edge of the verge. The little Shetland had no trouble holding its own.

We carried out a late afternoon watering session before dining on Jackie’s splendid chilli con carne and my plain boiled rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Rioja.

Emerging From The Gloom

This morning the temperature plummeted, as did rain until after lunch, when the overcast skies brightened and the wind speed escalated, for the rest of the day, to 40+ m.p.h.

We drove early to Ferndene Farm Shop to buy three bags of compost, a splendid, tall, lingularia; lettuce and other salad ingredients, before a short trip into the forest.

Beside Church Lane a pair of field horses sheltered under a tree.

The lane, like many others, had recently been resurfaced; hence the skid warning and speed limit. Often such signs stay in situ for months. Jackie had found a section of verge on which to park, otherwise no-one would have been able to pass while I photographed.

Further along the road we spotted a herd of deer which, as soon as they got wind of us, turned tail and huddled together further away. This did not put some of the young stags off their stroke.

As usual, galleries can be accessed by clicking on any image each of which can be viewed full size by clicking the boxes beneath them, and further enlarged if required.

Church Lane is steeply undulating. As this equestrienne reached the top of one slope and emerged from the gloom, even though Jackie was driving very slowly, her horse fell into a panic. My chauffeuse stopped the car and turned the engine off, thus enabling the young woman to settle her steed and sidle past the Modus while preventing the driver’s side from being kicked in.

The far end of the lane emerges in Pilley where further coronavirus messages include the bus shelter with its Union flag and Stay Home messages; and the HOPE bench.

Back at home raindrops glistened on hemerocallis, nasturtium, honeysuckle, fuchsia Delta’s Sarah, and rose Hot Chocolate, to name a few.

I spent the rest of the day reading a book I will feature tomorrow.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy lamb jalfrezi, flavoursome mushroom rice, and plain parathas, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the delicious Douro

From Lebanon To Dunedin

Unfortunately the expected overnight thunderstorm passed us by. The day, although cooler, remained overcast and humid.

This meant further watering – mostly done by Jackie, with me chipping in a bit. Nugget sent me back inside for my camera. I did oblige, but he was waiting with a companion who was more twitchy and they flew off. I had one shot at a joint portrait, but it was so out of focus that I deleted it.

As we left home this afternoon heading for Everton Post Office to send a parcel to Pauline in Dunedin we received a package from Lavinia of Salmon Brook Farms in Oregon.

On Old Christchurch Road we noticed further artistic tributes to the front line carers coping with Corvid-19. As usual the galleries can be accessed by clicking on any image which may be viewed full size by clicking the box beneath each picture. These can be further enlarged if required.

We continued on a drive into the forest,

On the hillside beside Braggers Lane caramel coloured cattle and their calves were their usual inquisitive selves; horses in the fields below simply continued grazing.

The clopping of hooves along the lane alerted me to a couple of equestriennes who gave cheery greetings as they passed me.

On our return home I unwrapped Lavinia’s CD which we both enjoyed. I imported it into my iMac and I already know that listening to the artist’s melodious voice and clear diction, occasionally accompanied by Rick, against the gentle guitar will make a perfect accompaniment to my daily uploading of photographs for publication on WordPress.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s authentic lamb Jalfrezi, mushroom rice, and paratha with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Alma da Vinha Douro Doc 2018.

Masks

Yesterday’s dinner consisted of Jackie’s superb shepherd’s pie; crisp carrots, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Rioja.

We will have more of this this evening, including the same beverages. The vegetables may be different. I am just going to prepare whatever the Culinary Queen bought in Tesco this morning, where she was very much in the minority wearing a face mask.

This was not the case with field horses on South Sway Lane when we began a brief foray into the forest. Readers will be aware that the masks are for the animals’ protection against flies.

We had not been here since the beginning of the lockdown when the trees were bare;

 

buttercups had not arrived, dandelion clocks were young blooms;

and moon daisies

and cow parsley were simply seeds that had not yet germinated.

Horseshoe Bottom was quite crowded with grazing ponies having no need to maintain social distance

and walkers who did.

A group of red deer outside Sway seem to have relaxed their timidity during the months without humans.

 

Passing Pedestrian Pairs

On another hot, sunny, day

I took a stroll around the garden, passing the Dead End Path;

the Heligan Path;

the Rose Garden;

the Palm Bed:

and the Cryptomeria Bed – where’s Jackie in this shot?.

Jackie weeded,

planted,

and generally tidied,

including rearranging pots to her liking. She photographed some of these herself.

and a comma taking a pause on an owl,

while I photographed some of the frilly flamenco flounces flung among the tulips

Soon afterwards I walked along Hordle Lane to the paddock and back.

Various wild flowers line the verges.

Ten days ago when these wilting daffodils were young and fresh the bluebells now fronting them still lay inchoate beneath the soil.

A sunlit dock leaf took me back seventy years to “when I was a lad” and our mother told us that these, when rubbed onto the affected skin, would nullify nettle stings.

In fact they do not neutralise the venom, but with vigorous rubbing the moist sap does ease the pain.

Gaps in the hedgerows offer flanking views such as this wind-sculpted tree,

and neatly framed field.

The ditches are mostly bone dry, but certain stretches contain scummy smatterings of residual fluid.

Two strapping steeds grazed in the paddock

one corner of which was now carpeted with pine-cone piles.

On my return trip a pedalling cyclist sang peacefully to himself.

Later, hearing a pedestrian pair approaching from behind, exchanging pleasantries, I crossed the road to let them pass. They, in turn, were overtaken by a car,

by another bicyclist,

and by another approaching ambulant couple. The requisite distance was maintained.

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork; roasted new potatoes in their skins; crisp sage and onion stuffing; crunchy carrots and firm Brussels sprouts; and tasty red cabbage, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2018.