mallards – derrickjknight

Fire And Ice

Early this afternoon we received a further oil-fired radiator from Amazon. This had kept us in until 4 p.m. when we ventured out into another cold-blue-sky day in search of a forest sunset.

We drove up Holmsley Passage turning right into Clay Hill at the top.

There the golden disc flirted with trees and clouds,

burnishing the trees above their reflections in the pool home to mallards,

past which a solitary grey pony emerged from the dingy dusk.

Along Bisterne Close the fiery sun slowly slipped into indigo clouds above icy, reflecting, recently filled concavities.

Further verges along the close contained some of the many lingering ice patterns in the woods and moorland, featuring leaves above and below them.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome chicken stewp with fresh crusty bread. She drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Shiraz.

A Knight’s Tale (123: Nearing Leicester)

Here are further images of the journey through England’s midland waterways taken by me walking alongside Sam and James in Pacific Pete in July 2003.

This stone stork beside the Cherwell section of the Oxford Canal seemed amused by the attempts of their mother to draw her offspring away from him.

Sam and James in Pacific Pete and narrowboats 7.03

Sam and James through Shipton Bridge 7.03

Small bridges, narrow locks and a few narrowboats on this section required careful negotiation by the rower. Navigator James looked quite thoughtful in the third picture.

Willowherb on Bridge over River Soar 7.03

The River Soar for part of the Oxford Union Canal stretch. The towpaths here were better tended than some, which was fortunate for James when he took a turn at towing. Willowherb thrived in the brickwork of this bridge.

Dragonflies mated; waterlilies bloomed; and a stone wall provided a backdrop for wild flowers.

An art group concentrated hard on a lock as we approached Leicester.

Nearing the city of my birth, we passed a derelict graffiti-bedaubed factory,

outside which a leaf lay on a bed of water weed.

Soon Pacific Pete was gliding through the city.

A Knight’s Tale (122: The Thames In South Oxfordshire)

Here the row continues along the River Thames in South Oxfordshire

This was still near enough to normal civilisation for elderly couples to be out walking along the banks.

If there were any footpaths on this stretch, they lay beneath the ripeness of, summer requiring negotiation, in the form of wild flowers attracting bees; grasses in seed; plantains tripping over; broad backlit leaves bearing shadows of other floral forms; and convovulous carrying tiny beetles.

One of the latter plants trailed over the river, reflecting on the murky water.

An avian trio perched on the coping stones of a derelict shed in need of replacement tiles;

a peacock and hen entered into head to head negotiations;

a mallard paddled along ahead of her imprinted offspring;

and a pair of swans introduced their cygnets to further reaches of the Thames.

A flock of sheep grazed alongside what I took to be farm buildings of some sort.

The sun-baked natural world disregarded the two young men taking a leisurely row along the sleepy waters, passing a dangerous-looking weir, and negotiating a narrow lock.

Venison, Chicken, Swans, Ducks, Geese

Jackie cut my hair after lunch. Then we enjoyed a late afternoon forest drive.

Swans, casting long shadows, with a group of mallards, which took to flight upon my arrival, wandered across the sward at Beaulieu River.

At East End a donkey and foal clipped a hedge, while a burnished pony watched the traffic passing by.

The lowering sun was reflected along with trees in a pool beside Exbury Road.

The tide was out. at Lepe where I focussed on the Isle of Wight and a container vessel on the horizon between Southampton and the island; while

Jackie photographed a chicken in a field.

We turned down Lower Pennington Lane in order to catch the sunset on the way home.

Here the Assistant Photographer photographed a deer and three geese.

I photographed a skein of geese over head, and others enhancing the sunset.

These shots are Jackie’s.

This evening we dined on more of the Culinary Queen’s wholesome cottage pie with fresh carrots, cabbage, and runner beans. Mrs Knight drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Douro.

One Miniature Member

Early this afternoon I posted “A Knight’s Tale (9: Before The Coming Revolution)”.

Later, we shopped at Lidl and carried on for drive. Everywhere is becoming very crowded. Reaching Lymington was a lengthy process. We kept along Sowley Lane and St Leonard’s Road to the east, which doesn’t have too many visitors.

A family of mallards beside a temporary pool alongside St Leonard’s Road were possibly debating whether to settle on it.

Opposite, in sight of the Isle of Wight,

bees busily worked over the remaining blossom on nascent blackberries while they still had a chance.

Our familiar equine group of friends, with its one miniature member congregated outside St Leonard’s Grange, within reach of

their still liquid watering hole reflecting possibly aquatic plants.

Cattle on the moorland fronting houses between East End and East Boldre were happy to share pasturage rights with a few ponies.

This evening we dined on our second helpings of Red Chilli takeaway with which Jackie finished the Carricante and I drank more of the Fleurie, which involved opening another bottle.

My Carrots!

Despite the amount of Christmas preparation still to be done, the clear skies bright sunshine this morning following last night’s steady overnight rain demanded a forest outing, so we complied.

The rain left its mark on the lanes like Lower Sandy Down, and on much of the

terrain, like this on the reflecting green at Pilley, where somnolent ponies basked, casting long shadows, even on the approach to midday.

Mallards are quite at home on the filled lake alongside Jordans Lane.

Donkeys, as gentle as ever, snoozed along the verges of Bull Hill.

It was therefore something of a shock to see a vicious bully dominating a patch of green at Norley Wood by kicking and butting the rest of a group attempting to partake of carrots laid out for them all. Note the raised heels and the flattened ears signifying harmful intent. The stabbing feet were raised too suddenly and quickly for me to catch the legs at full right-angled stretch. The forlorn creature in the last image had me regretting I didn’t have one to give it, and I certainly wasn’t about to snaffle one of the bully’s who made it very clear that they were its sole property.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Recital.

A Visible Contrast

The Needles foghorn beckoned us all the way to the coast at Barton on Sea this morning. All other sounds were muffled by clouds of tiny water droplets known as mist.

We took the route through Angel Lane where Jackie parked the Modus and I photographed

misty scenes

and more visible views of the banks of the ditch.

The silhouettes of the few dog walkers on the clifftop at Barton could not have contrasted more with the many enjoying yesterday afternoon’s sunset.

After visiting the pharmacy at Milford on Sea we progressed to Keyhaven harbour where there was not much to be seen:

Bob Barnes reflected in the first picture, a fisherman, gulls, swans, and a few boats.

Later, I was able to photograph Bob and his reflection once more as we engaged in a socially distanced conversation beside

a memorial bench to Peter and Dorothy Thomas. Our discussion was recorded by Jackie, who also photographed

walkers on the spit, the yacht club, a bird on a wire, and a pair of preening mallards.

Another dog walker approached Pennington Lane as we passed on our way to

Boldre’s Saint John the Baptist Churchyard on Church Lane.

Field horses grazed beneath the graveyard, where, above the soil, a mossy, decomposing stump gradually merged with the soil beneath which humans from days gone by engaged in the same process.

This evening we dined on toothsome roast gammon; golden creamy mashed potatoes; pure white cauliflower; and most moist ratatouille, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Recital 2018.

Changing By The Second

Wild wind howled and piercing precipitation rattled the roof throughout the night and well into the morning.

Jackie photographed and I e-mailed this image of crooked hand from our 200 year old long case clock to Martin Fairhurst of Dials in Lymington who will repair it. Even with the bend the clock keeps perfect time and chimes seven minutes late according to the point of the digit, as if there were no crook in it.

After lunch I made a start on a month’s ironing. When the sun sneaked out I unplugged the iron and we sped after it. Since it had made the effort we would have been rude not to.

The field alongside South Sway Lane, once home to pony Gimlet and her foal,

was now occupied by a nomadic Mallard family.

A drain was overflowing, suggesting that the lane itself will be flooded soon. Last year it became impassable.

The rain had definitely not conceded the skies. Rainbows followed us around

The fast-flowing, rippling and bubbling Balmer Lawn stretch of Highland Water had overflowed its banks. Within seconds of my striding out to photograph it the clouds rolled in, rain hammered down, and my woollen jacket soon took on the scent of damp sheep.

On the signal of the click of my camera a reflective crow was instantly on the wing.

Just around the corner the sun emerged once more, cast long shadows, and burnished trees against a dark slate sky.

Lulled into a false sense of security I walked across a muddy field to photograph ponies sheltering among the trees. They knew that I would soon be walking through torrential bead curtains.

Houses and trees were silhouetted against the clouds’ bonfire smoke. The skies were changing by the second.

I heard gleeful laughter emanating from a parked people carrier whose occupants were impressed by the ponies. As I raised my camera in polite request

the mother of the boys cheerfully wound her window down and, with a smile, said “put your tongue back in”. This was, of course, the signal to stick it out further. Although rain still rolled down the vehicle it had stopped falling from the skies.

As I drafted this post the heavy rain clattered throughout against my window.

This evening we dined on oven fish and chips, green peas, cornichons, and pickled onions with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Coonawarra.

Avian Pairs

Today was bright and sunny, if a little chilly.

Because this was the weekend, there was a little more humanity on the forest roads, mainly in the form of

family groups of walkers like these on St Leonards Road,

and cyclists in pairs or singly, like this one on Sowley Lane.

We had planned to visit the beach at the end of Tanners Lane, but thought better of it when we met a row of parked cars near the entrance. Clearly the shingle would be crowded. Jackie backed up a long way before reaching a turning space.

The narrow track leading solely to the beach beside the Solent is one of our ancient thoroughfares that is bordered by

high banks and deep ditches, centuries of erosion having exposed gnarled roots. This verge is on the side edged by fields;

the opposite side flanks gardens, like this one, the top of which is fenced against the road above, from which we can look down on the cottage below.

Blackthorn blossom blooms beneath the bank.

Donkeys dined in ditches,

along the verges,

and up the banks.

Sometimes, like the man with the red flag during the early years of motor traffic, they kept the speed down by leading from the front. The passenger in this car was doing what I do, and photographing the donkey.

Sowley Lane is flanked by fields, one of which bears the first coat of bright yellow pigment that will develop into oil seed rape.

A pheasant courtship was taking place in the next field.

I turned my attention to ponies on the verges, one of which animals bore uncomfortable looking red eyes.

A pair of mallards waddled past as I approached another along the dappled road.

A cyclist approached as the two ducks neared the original pony now being joined by another.

The drake and his mate crossed the road as I attempted to come a bit closer.

They slipped into the water-filled ditch. As I pointed my lens they took flight. I just about managed to catch one of them.

One pony crossed back across the road and left its companion to

have an energetic scratch.

We returned home via Lisle Court Road which featured a sun-spotted thatched cottage,

with a neighbouring iconic red telephone box having undergone a makeover.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic chicken jalfrezi; savoury rice, palak paneer, onion bahjis, and plain paratha, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the El Zumbido Garnacha, Syrah.

Sexy Side-Swept Bangs

After taking down the Christmas tree we took a short drive into the forest on another very gloomy, yet dry, day.

When, at Shirley Holms, I pointed my lens in her direction, a sexy Shetland pony mistook me for a hairdresser’s photographer and trotted over to display

her dishevelled side-swept bangs.

The ditches are all filling up now. A copper beech hedge reflected in one at Sandy Down caught my eye as we passed. My Chauffeuse kindly made a several points turn in the narrow lane so that I could photograph the scene, including one of the discarded drink containers. The second picture above is by the Assistant Photographer who also focussed on

me. This might have been the moment I was trying to tuck myself in to keep out of the way of oncoming vehicles passing our parked Modus. I wasn’t exactly between rock and a hard place – more on a soggy verge between muddy tarmac and a full ditch..

Mallards have taken up occupation in the very full Pilley lake. They create their own ripples on what would otherwise be a very still surface reflecting barely quivering images of

skeletal trees;

shaggy Shetland ponies;

and red brick houses.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pork paprika; boiled potatoes, crunchy carrots and cauliflower with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Brouilly.