lighthouse – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Before And After Sunset

Today was bright and sunny, although strong winds brought something of a chill factor. We took a trip out to view the seafront at Milford on Sea, and the delights of the New Forest – in my case through a lens poked out of the open passenger window.

Against the backdrop of the iconic Isle of Wight Needles we, and other visitors, watched the spray-tipped waves known as white horses. I reflected that normally I would have been standing on the clifftop, legs spread wide to brace myself against the sharply stinging spray and the piercing winds. Necessity had provided me with a far more comfortable vantage point.

It wasn’t until shortly before sunset on Penn Common that we encountered any forest fauna. Here, the lowering rays enhanced

glowing outlines of free roaming cattle,

and grazing sheep, bearing the mark of a ram;

while nearby penned donkeys displayed their usual inquisitiveness.

At Bramshaw, the usual motley groups of cattle continued their ploughing of the village green.

A leisurely peacock wandered across the road, causing a watching cow to swivel her neck, keeping pace with the colourful bird.

Dusk was well under way when we drove along South Sway Lane watching pink and gold clouds streaking a still cerulean sky above the darkly silhouetted tree line.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata and tender green beans.

Needles In The Morning

Early this morning we visited our GP practice for our flu vaccines. This, known as the flu jab, is a process of injecting protection from strains of influenza. Those over a certain age are urged to avail themselves of this each year. I was a bit reluctant to get going this morning, especially as I thought this was a ploy on Jackie’s behalf to have me washed and dressed before midday. The procedure was quick and painless.

Along the coast road, the monochrome Isle of Wight, with its own Needles, emerged from filmy vapour.

We visited Elizabeth at Pilley once more. I stayed in the car while Jackie delivered some mail, including a parcel of equipment from B.T. who, despite having engineers frequently visiting Burnt House Lane, continue to despatch items to our home.

Jackie has been researching the activities of the young heifers witnessed on Bull Hill two days ago. This is what she learned from Wikipedia:

‘Bulling is a behaviour seen in cattle when one mounts another, usually when one or the other is a female in oestrus (on heat);^[1] “bulling” is commonly used as a term for a female in oestrus. Female cattle in oestrus may mount any adult cattle, especially a bull (fertile male) if one is present, but they will also mount castrated males or other females. A bulling female will often also be mounted by other cattle, both male and female (only fertile males are usually capable of mating). A dominant bull will defend the bulling female from being mounted by other cattle.

Bulling is used by farmers to recognise oestrus, which is important to determine the fertile period when cows may be artificially inseminated.^[1] Care is needed to identify whether the animal in oestrus is the one mounting or being mounted, and of course sometimes both animals may be in oestrus.

Mounting behaviour is also sometimes seen between adult cattle in the absence of a female in oestrus.’

I have added this as a P.S. to the original post.

This evening Jackie produced a most toothsome dinner consisting of her tasty steak and mushroom pie; new potatoes; crunchy carrots, green beans, cauliflower, and curly kale.

The Sap Is Rising

A light frost fell on the fields last night and Jackie had to scrape ice off the windscreen before driving me to the G.P. surgery at Milford on Sea for the successful removal of the staples from my knee. Rather unfairly, it seems to me, some members of the medical fraternities and sororities refer to orthopaedics as ‘The Carpenters’. However, I have to say that the curving row of hurdles penetrating my flesh did look as if it has been applied by an upholsterer’s gun. The nurse’s staple remover was a little more delicate than those found in Staples stationary stores.

After this we travelled along the coast road, where I began my morning’s photoshoots through my passenger window.

The Needles convoy trailed after the Isle of Wight lighthouse;

Also silhouetted along the Milford coastline were walkers with dogs and a woman pushing a child in a buggy;

A few gulls wandered about the car parks, where a crow set itself up for a long vigil.

Turning away from the coast we set off along the Beaulieu Road out of Lymington, where ponies, the silvery greys blending with similar hued birches, enhanced the landscape.

On Bull Hill, the younger cattle squared up for head butts, competing for or waiting their turn for humping practice. The older beasts watched in silence. The sap was definitely rising.

Whilst in Pilley we briefly visited Elizabeth who had spent the morning with BT engineers attempting to discover why her landline had stopped working.

A trio of goats we passed in Warborne Lane on our way home were rather less frisky than their bovine neighbours.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty chicken jalfrezi with savoury rice.

P. S. Jackie has researched the activities of the young heifers. This is what she learned from Wikipedia:

‘Bulling¬†is a behaviour seen in¬†cattle¬†when one mounts another, usually when one or the other is a female in¬†oestrus¬†(on heat);^[1]¬†”bulling” is commonly used as a term for a female in oestrus. Female cattle in oestrus may mount any adult cattle, especially a bull (fertile male) if one is present, but they will also mount castrated males or other females. A bulling female will often also be mounted by other cattle, both male and female (only fertile males are usually capable of mating). A dominant bull will defend the bulling female from being mounted by other cattle.

Mounting behaviour is also sometimes seen between adult cattle in the absence of a female in oestrus.’

Keeping A Ball In The Air

Mat, Tess, and Poppy returned to their home early this afternoon.

The rest of us drove to Barton on Sea where Jackie, Becky, and Ian enjoyed coffee in the Beachcomber. I joined them for sparkling water after I had photographed the activities of visitors from the clifftop.

A pink streak divided the indigo bands of Solent and sky while a weak sunset attempted to make itself known.

Among groups gathering on the beach one young boy was intent on keeping a tennis ball in the air.

Pairs masqueraded as ships that pass in the night;

while engaged in an activity I couldn’t make out, one gentleman attempted to avoid entanglement in his dog’s lead;

a lone couple remained transfixed by the incoming waves.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tender beef in red wine; sage and onion stuffing; bread sauce; Yorkshire pudding; and creamy mashed potato; Becky and I drank Calvet Fleurie 2016; Ian drank Chardonnay and Hoegaarden; Jackie also drank the Belgian beer.

Skydiving

At 2.45 p.m. it wasn’t long before sunset on this shortest day of the year when Jackie drove us to Barton on Sea where she enjoyed coffee and a slice of Victoria sponge while I sat on a bench peering through dim haze at

The Needles and their lighthouse.

I could just make out a fishing boat beyond

the choppy, glinting old gold, indigo, and spume-white seas rushing to the shore

along which an intrepid couple cycled alone.

Unusually silent gulls swooping, darting, floating, overhead enjoyed the fun of skydiving as I stretched my neck following them with my lens.

Meanwhile, a trio of crows pecked up scraps left by other customers eating cake in the Beachcomber garden. Without even retracting their undercarriages they took off when I approached.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s powerful chilli con carne with savoury rice, with which she drank Tiger Beer and I drank more of the Saint-Chinian opened two or three days ago yet still most potable.

I think I have mastered the enlargement problem, so these images should be capable of what Pauline calls bigifying.

Up On The Roof

This morning I made four 5 x 7 prints for Ian from his and Becky’s wedding.
After lunch I made a start on the Christmas cards and Jackie and I drove to New Milton for some Christmas shopping, and continued on into the forest.
The day was dull and dry.

We arrived at a glassy Hatchet Pond when a pink strip above the tree line was a precursor of the impending weak sunset.

Waterfowl in evidence included a pair of swans and their adolescent cygnet

flexing its muscles

in sight of gulls, mallards, and moorhens.

One vociferous gull seemed to be reflecting on this 1962 classic of The Drifters:

The tide was high at Tanners Lane where the Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse were silhouetted against the pink precursor.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome lamb jalfrezi with tasty savoury rice. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

A Quotation From My Grandad

I have previously mentioned an unfortunate complication arising from my knee replacement operation in May. Today, after some delay and a cancellation, Jackie was able do drive me to Lymington Hospital for a visit to consultant, Mr J. Douglas. After various tests he offered the opinion that my prostate is only slightly enlarged and that there may have been some internal damage caused by efforts to insert a catheter. He was not worried about this, but, given that I cannot have my second knee replacement unless the condition, which might need a catheter designed for this not unusual problem, is confirmed, he has placed me on an urgent referral for further investigation with a camera.
Before this visit we lunched at Redcliffe Garden Centre at Bashley. Written on the roof supports of the establishment’s restaurant are memorable quotations about gardening. Following on from one from Longfellow is this one by

‘My Grandad’. Enlargement should make this legible, but for those needing it, here is the text: ‘A face without freckles is like a garden without flowers’.

I chose the steak pie meal. The excellent gravy relieved the impression that the meal was perhaps a bit overheated – it was, however, the last one, and despite appearances tasted very good. Jackie enjoyed her customary jacket potato with tuna mayonnaise and plentiful fresh salad.

We had taken a diversion in the forest. At Brockenhurst, just as I drew a bead on it a heron took off from the bank of a stream outside Brockenhurst.

After the consultation we sped off to the GP Surgery at Milford on Sea to deposit a requisition for medication to relax the casing of the prostate. Naturally this led us to the coast just before sunset.

The Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse sat well in their pink and indigo pastel surroundings.

This colour scheme set off the more strident streaks of the setting sun,

opposite which sweeping clouds revealed blue skies.

As usual the heaving sea, the rock-splashing spray, and the crunching shingle reflected the overhead hues.

Soon after sunset the clearer skies revealed a finely drafted crescent moon above Downton.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s choice chilli con carne served with flavoursome savoury rice. Elizabeth drank Hop House Lager and I drank Outlook Bay Central Otago Pinot Noir 2017.

On The Trail

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At first light this morning Jackie drove us down to the clifftop at Milford on Sea to watch the sunrise.

The forest behind the Isle of Wight and The Needles was a bank of clouds. The lighthouse blinked.

Soon

a pink lining

came into view

over

to the east.

Just two lone walkers

braved the two degrees centigrade temperature at 7 a.m.

This afternoon we visited the New Milton toy shop to investigate Christmas presents, and decided that we needed parental advice.

Afterwards we drove into the forest.

On the way down Holmsley Passage Jackie spotted

a string of ponies

crossing a ridge. Watch the wavy lines in the bracken to the right.

She parked

beside the stream on the lowest part of the lane, while I watched

as the ponies

dropped onto

what was a trail

they had regularly trodden.

It was fortunate

for me that there were a couple of greys to help me pick them out against the bracken

or, as they reached level ground, among the trees.

The black leader came into view and investigated the road;

when it was pronounced clear, the others followed

and were led

past

a delighted Jackie

in the car.

Having crossed to the other side

they reappeared on higher ground.

Further on, up the road to Clay Hill reflections in the calm pool

were clear and bright.

On our return the sun was setting over Holmsley;

blazing clouds shrouded Wootton Common,

where the moon was in the ascendancy.

Trellises of tree branches

screened the pink and indigo backcloth.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wonderful savoury rice forming a bed for tempura prawns. We both drank Maison Castel Touraine sauvignon blanc 2015.

Every Night Something Atrocious

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This morning we set off to spend the best part of the day on a trip to Hurst Castle.

We began with a drive to Keyhaven to park the car and take a ferry to the castle, perched as it is on a spit in the middle of The Solent.

A youthful group were preparing for a sailing trip in the harbour.

Our small boat could take twelve people with weight evenly distributed on each side. I caused some amusement when I asked one small boy how much he weighed. There was keen competition to sit in the front.

A yacht sped past us on our way over.

We disembarked after our short trip,

and were soon confronting the castle walls

along which a couple of children ran freely.

A delivery of Calor Gas was in progress.

Maybe it was destined for the lighthouse.

We walked past this to the shingle bank

that is the nearest viewpoint to the Isle of Wight and The Needles.

Here a Wing battery forming coastal defence from late Victorian times flanks the Solent, and a gull takes a rest.

The 38 ton guns that fired from here are capable of firing a 12 1/2 inch shell, weighing 820 lbs, nearly 3 1/2 miles.They became part of the castle’s secondary armament and were kept permanently loaded.

Hurst Castle was built between 1541 and 1544 as one of a chain of artillery defences protecting key ports and landing places round southern England from Continental attack. It was sited to guard the Needles Passage, the narrow western entrance to the Solent, and gateway to the trading port of Southampton and the new naval base at Portsmouth.

The castle soon developed into powerful fortress. On occasion it was also used as a prison. King Charles 1 was briefly held captive there during the Civil War.

Having begun our tour in the Victorian section, we turned back and walked through the gateway to the Tudor original building.

The stone steps leading up to the first floor were reasonably manageable.

We wandered around the large circular room with its stone floors, mixed material walls,

and reinforced windows.

A young sailor had been left behind by his ship.

Ascending the outside wall was a further set of steps that were much more daunting;

through a door at the top of this flight, a spiral staircase became ever steeper.

Having reached the highest level a notice advised us to lower our heads. This involved almost crawling through the doorway. Young Toby, probably the only person up there who could stand upright, was delighted to provide my photograph with a sense of scale. He was rather chuffed to learn that his photograph would go round the world this evening.

From this viewpoint Jackie notice a peculiar meeting of currents in The Solent;

and we were able to look down on the West Wing, where we then enjoyed a wholesome lunch in the café.

Of the many other exhibitions and displays of information, were a number on the lighthouse;

a Bofors 40mm gun, designed in the 1930s, which was still in service in 2013, making it one of the longest serving artillery pieces of all time.

We were fascinated by the Garrison Theatre which is possibly the last such establishment to survive from the Second World War.

ENSA, or the Entertainments National Service Association, was known to the squaddies as Every Night Something Atrocious.

Apart from signing off in my usual manner, I have to leave the trip there, and report on the return home tomorrow.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendid penne pasta arrabbiata with which she drank Hoegaarden Anno 1445, and I drank Giulio Pasotti Bardolino Classico 2016.

Guided Tour Of Sturt Pond

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Despite the heat today, Jackie continued with planting and weeding. I cut up branches from a tree Aaron had begun removing yesterday, and stuffed them into orange bags,

Late this afternoon Giles collected me and drove me to the bird hide overlooking Sturt Pond at New Milton.

There we were able to observe the birdlife on the water between us and the static caravans opposite.

This tranquil scene was soon to be disturbed by a pair of swans playing ducks and drakes.

My friend and I employed quite an interesting arrangement. Giles would spot something of interest through his binoculars. I relied on the naked eye and had to be guided so I could point and click at something I couldn’t see. Take, for example, the common tern on the rock. Starting from the pale blue parasol to the right of the caravans, I would be expected to drop down to the reflected gull immediately below this and turn left at right angles to the next bird along.

My trust in Giles was rewarded.

The Bill Smith Tern Raft floats in the pond. After a ten-year development stage, the Milford Conservation Volunteers (MCV) finally launched the Bill Smith Tern Raft at Sturt Pond and the very first bird to land on it was a common tern, which also determinedly removed a herring gull who also took up temporary residence on the craft. Keith Metcalf, Conservation Manager, stated “Bill, with his band of volunteers, was a stalwart for maintaining the Solent Way footpath and this small tribute to Bill will be a lasting memorial to the services he gave so readily to the local community”. Today the raft belonged to the gulls. (See Paul Clarke’s comment below – the bird to the left is a tern)

A pair of young sparrows had popped over from the village in the hope that someone may have filled the empty bird feeders.

In the bottom left corner of this photograph are a pair of shelducks.

Across the pond lies Hurst Castle with its lighthouse.

We left the hide and walked round to the bank of the pond.

An oystercatcher,

finding nothing tasty, took flight.

Two little terns shared a rock, whilst, behind them a common tern searched for prey;

another gull studiously ignored them;

and one more went fishing,

prompting one of the terns to nip off and bring back a fish for his mate.

With a pair of cormorants on a rail in the background, we watched a black tailed godwit scavenging along the shore. Giles observed that this specimen had been left behind when all its companions had left our waters because it had an injured right leg.

(Any errors of identification are entirely the responsibility of the author.)

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty chicken tikka, onion and mushroom rice, and salad. She drank Hoegaarden, and I drank more of Jessie’s superb chablis.