One For Tootlepedal

Jackie and I drove through a succession of heavy showers on a trip to the north of the forest and back.

Manic windscreen wipers fought to keep pace with raindrops obscuring vision and sliding across the glass; roadside ditches were filling up and ever increasing circles spread around every drop striking the surfaces of pothole pools. All was gloomy darkness periodically pierced by episodes of sunshine highlighting the white trunks of birch trees and glistening foliage and field crops.

Unconcerned distant deer on Blissford Hill enjoyed their damp pasturage.

The pool at Abbotswell, dry for weeks, was beginning to fill while

rain misted the landscape below.

As we left the splashing pothole pitted site tail-twitching ponies pottered along ahead.

The stream at Ogdens North, now flowing once more, rippled across the gravel bed and foamed against a nippled fallen log.

A bejewelled oak leaf from last autumn

lay beside the wooden bridge photographed for Tootlepedal.

Becky returned home to Southbourne this afternoon, leaving good portions of her tagliatelle Bolognese for our dinner this evening, which we enjoyed with various pizzas and fresh salad. My pizza choice was salami and chillis. The young couple ate a little later than Jackie and I, who drank Peroni and more of the Bordeaux respectively.