landscapes – derrickjknight

Cockapoos

We enjoyed a pleasant morning with Louisa and her Cockapoos, Geri and Coco.

After lunch my daughter and I took the dogs on a forest drive.

The first stop was on Wootton Common.

Louisa photographed me venturing to cross the road to join them,

where they enjoyed splashing in the sodden pools.

Louisa parked the car beside the stream at Holmsley Passage and took her pets for a walk across the moorland and back.

I remained beside the car and focussed on the stream and on the landscape.

Coco kept me company on our return home.

Later this afternoon Helen and Bill joined us for more convivial conversation.

Elizabeth joined us for dinner which consisted of Jackie’s wholesome chicken stewp with focaccia brought by Louisa. I drank more of the Shiraz and my sister drank FeeDamm non-alcoholic lager.

Cloud-Filtered Light

On another warm, yet overcast day, we took a forest drive before lunch. At no time did the sun penetrate the clouds.

Even the heather and bracken in the landscapes flanking Holmsley Passage lacked colour. Wild life of the hoofed variety was in short supply, until we noticed distant

ponies and cattle along Forest Road on our way back home.

On the ancient banked verges of Charles’s Lane

stood the gnarled roots of deep-shaded trees,

while plants nestled atop a fencepost

along Braggers Lane.

As we sat on the patio with our pre-dinner drinks we could hear at least one magpie in the copper beech tree. Since they have cleaned out all our smaller birds I speculated that there must be a pigeon’s nest in that tree, because these large ones do mate all year round.

The afore-mentioned dinner consisted of breaded cod fish cakes; piquant cauliflower cheese; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; and moist spinach, with which I finished the Malbec.

The Good Samaritan

Late this morning we took a trip to the north of the forest in order to brunch at The Potting Shed Café at Hyde. We had enjoyed it so much on Saturday with Jessie that we wanted to go back.

From Holmsley Passage I photographed some heather scenes for John Corden;

Dog walkers and cyclists made way for us to pass on the road.

We pulled into Smugglers Road carpark to picture standing ponies and a prone foal.

We were some way from our goal when I spotted that we were about to run out of petrol. The only chance of finding any more was to make it to the busy main road to Ringwood. Which we did. And turned left. And ran out of Petrol. Opposite a bus stop.

As we sat wondering who to call,

with the tailback building up behind us while we blocked traffic in each direction while oncoming vehicles paused to allow

those behind us to pass and continue on their way, David came to our rescue. He was on his way home from Ringwood. He turned round, drove Jackie back in the direction from which he had travelled, stopped at a garage where she bought a can and a gallon of fuel which he poured into our tank having driven her back to me sitting in the Hyundai, and waited until our engine fired up at first turn of the key. We couldn’t thank him enough. Next time we travel to Hale from whence he hails we hope to meet him again.

Ponies gathered on the green at North Gorley, and those forcing traffic onto the sward don’t seem to have moved since the 17th.

Splendid sunflowers tower above the fence to The Potting Shed Café, where Jackie produced photographs of both establishment and meals:

she chose very fresh and tasty blue cheese and walnut salad; I enjoyed a repeat of my last meal there:

The Full Works breakfast, with best quality ingredients, and water. In the first picture the hash brown is obscured by the authentic black pudding, and the herby sausage by the bacon in the second.

On our return through Bransgore Jackie photographed Tom and Jerry decorating a postbox.

For a late, light, supper Jackie chose asparagus soup and salad; mine was scrambled egg on toast. I drank water.

Relief In Shade

On this cooler, pleasant, summer afternoon, after a visit to Ferndene Farm Shop for the purchase of vegetables and salad ingredients,

we took a forest drive via Beckley Common Road.

After passing ponies in shade alongside Pound Lane, we turned off into a car park whence we admired the

landscape with heather

and a variety of daisy slightly larger than normal but smaller than marguerites.

Further down the road we turned into Burley which

was pulsating with visitors.

Cattle having slaked their thirst in the stream under the ford on Forest Road wandered slowly up the road frustrating some drivers while

ponies further along sheltered beneath the usual trees,

adopting their customary head to tail fly whisk technique.

This grey seemed to have caused a kerfuffle resulting in thudding head butts, sudden scattering, and clopping on the tarmac. I was pleased I was no nearer these heavy animals whose hooves could have landed on my sandalled feet.

Along Holmsley Passage on our way home we followed a cyclist climbing the hill. When he reached the top, he pulled over to the gravel on his left and we exchanged waves.

This evening we dined on baked smoked haddock; piquant cauliflower cheese; tender green beans; boiled new potatoes and carrots al dente, with which I finished the Tempranillo.

Damp And Hazy

After stocking up on sausages and salad ingredients at Ferndene Farm Shop we ventured into a soggy forest where steady rain fell in an ever increasing crescendo keeping windscreen wipers in work.

The weather was nevertheless sultry enough for the few ponies we

encountered, despite being decidedly damp,

to continue to be plagued by flies.

Headlights gleamed in the haze of Pound Lane, as heather on the verges did its best to brighten the dreary views.

Later, I published:

The Prose Edda

This evening we dined on pork spare ribs in BBQ sauce from Tesco and chipotle from Lidl, with Jackie’s mushroom and onion rice and tender green and runner beans, with which I drank Castellore The Reprobates Italian red wine.

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.

Gorley Hill

This afternoon we drove to the north of the forest.

Anna Lane is just one of the lanes we negotiate on our trips, so narrow that traffic spans the centre leaving it free of wheels and therefore grass-covered soil untouched in the middle. When you meet an oncoming vehicle one has to end up on the verge.

From the road up to Gorley Common we looked down on

deer which today didn’t sniff a scent of us;

can you spot this baby hiding behind its mother?

The Common, with its distant view is all that remains of

“Gorley Hill … the site of a former Iron Age promontory hillfort located in Hampshire in the United Kingdom.

The fort once occupied the southwestern corner of Gorley Common on Gorley Hill, a gravel-capped spur that points southwest into the Avon valley next to the hamlet of North Gorley, between the towns of Fordingbridge and Ringwood. The earthworks were destroyed in the 1950s and ’60s when the common’s new owners carried out large-scale gravel extraction works, effectively “scalping” the hill. The tall linear earthen banks present on the hill are a relic of the quarrying process and not prehistoric in origin.^[1]The site is now grass, with some gorse and silver birch. The area is now owned and managed by Hampshire County Council.

Heywood Sumner carried out some excavation at the site which was published in his 1917 book Ancient Earthworks of the New Forest.^[2]“

This evening we dined on Jackie’s authentic chicken jalfrezi and mushroom rice, with which I finished the Alentejano.

Garden And Forest

Today was largely overcast, yet very warm. This morning, entertained by trilling birdsong, I carried out a dead heading session; the scents of a multitude of plants pervaded the garden even more as the warmth increased when I stepped out after lunch to walk around it.

I photographed a day lily, numerous roses, two clematis, poppies, a yellow bottle brush plant and a white solanum, all of which bear titles in the gallery.

Later, Jackie drove us to the north of the forest.

Almost the first signs of life we saw were ponies lingering leisurely along the road at North Gorley

and cattle giving drivers an opportunity to rest on the road to Hyde.

We admired the view from Abbotswell Road, on a

verge of which a squirrel hid with its mouth full. I’m not sure who nibbled the tree in the foreground.

Driving down Blissford Hill is always a bit nerve wracking because it is necessary to get up speed to the dappled area beneath the trees in order to climb up the very steep slope, hoping not to encounter another vehicle coming down.

We hope to arrive at the wider top where dog walkers are enjoying the levelling out of the surface.

Donkeys are usually in evidence outside the school at Hyde. Today they were accompanied by a number of foals. The last two photographs in this gallery are Jackie’s.

On our way home a helpful Jay pointed the way to Ringwood.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s very tasty liver and bacon casserole; mashed swede and potatoes sweet and white; and carrots, cauliflower and Brussels sprouts flavoursome and al dente, with which I drank Chilean reserva privada Malbec 2022.

Riding Along Charles’s Lane

Encouraged by Klausbernd of Fab Four Blog, I began to read Sigrid Undset’s novel “Kristin Lavransdatter”. I am already grateful to him for his recommendation. Later this morning Jackie and I took a forest drive before lunch.

Butter-golden gorse had benefitted from the recent days of rains and occasional sunshine.

Although today was rain-free strong winds rippled across reflecting pools along the roadsides, the fields, and the moors.

When Jackie pulled to the side of Braggers Lane opposite the third string of pools in the gallery above in order to enable an oncoming vehicle to pass she didn’t notice this pothole, but left her tyre tracks as we bounced out of it.

This grey pony’s legs have taken on the tinge of the wet terrain of Wilverley Road.

When this cyclist had scaled the hill against a strong wind, I gave him a thumbs up and congratulated him.

these two held up the car in front of us until the road leaving Burley was clear enough for him to pass and we were able to follow.

Others enjoyed foraging in the woodland alongside Charles’s Lane,

where I enjoyed pleasant conversations with equestriennes I had heard clopping along to the tune of bright birdsong.

The reason Jackie had parked beside this lane was to send me back along the road to photograph Fungus she had spotted in passing. I had misunderstood, thinking it was on the verge rather than on the tree. While I was searching she came along and pointed it out to me. Concentrating on the longer shots of the broken tree I had not realised that I had unwittingly already photographed my target.

This evening we all dined on pork spare ribs marinaded in hoisin sauce on a bed of Jackie’s colourful vegetable rice with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

Just A Week Old

Given that we understood that this morning’s chill wind and cold bright sunshine was likely to cede to strong showers for the rest of the day, we set off for a forest drive just after 8 a.m. and turned on the windscreen wipers in a darkened air two hours later as we were driving home.

Groups of ponies gathered around Smuggler’s Road Car Park basking and reflecting in the sunlight,

which brightened the sand pit in the Rockford Common landscape. The stream at Ibsley ford rippled past a recently broken tree on its banks, where blossom bejewelled a shadow-striated wall.