ponies – Page 62 – derrickjknight

The North/South Divide

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Today was another dull one with little sun after 10 a.m. This morning we took a motorised stroll through the forest

and brunched at Hyde-Out Café where I enjoyed a tastefully presented full English.

Just outside Bashley the first bunch of cyclists began disrupting the traffic.

Someone had recently lobbed food packaging into the stream crossing Holmsley Passage, along which we passed the resident of

the modern house that was once the site of the crossing keeper’s cottage.

At Burley ponies had been engaged to mow the outfield of the cricket green.

Some took a break,

and, for one, the task had become all too exhausting.

It being the grockle season, only the narrower lanes like Braggers were free of cyclists and other cars designed to send drivers onto the verges.

More common were crocodiles like these escorted children wobbling along

opposite the irises blooming in Whitemoor Pond.

Mauve foxgloves stood proudly erect all over the forest.

On the slopes on other side of the road leading into Bolderwood, where the first two of these pictures were taken, wild orchids clustered among the curling ferns.

Someone had lobbed a bottle into this lovely landscape.

Logging had been carried out in the vicinity of this stump with its moss-covered exposed roots.

The A31, that bisected the forest into North and South, spans the road through Bolderwood, bringing the modern world into stark contrast with the historic home of this equine family whose ancestors grazed the forest floors for centuries.

One of two riders crossing the heath on the other side of the main thoroughfare gave me a pleasant smile, after which we exchanged waves.

For our dinner this evening Jackie produced tasty chicken thighs marinaded in lemon and herbs and roasted with peppers; boiled potatoes, carrots, and green beans.

The Rat Catcher

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This is the owl our offspring gave Jackie for her birthday.

Clearly this splendid sculpture needed a plinth on which to perch. Fortunately I had noticed one in the very dealership from which we had purchased yesterday’s troughs. So back we went to Molly’s Den and bought it.

Much more can be found in this emporium: chairs, table and settings;

recordings old and new;

figurines to every taste;

bears, of course;

boxes of possibly dubious provenance;

headscarfs on mannequins;

fairly optimistically priced peeling and faded fairground signs;

and bright copper artefacts, to select a few.

On our return home, a cluster of ponies gathered outside The Rising Sun at Wootton. Were they perhaps waiting for lunch to be served?

Rats continue to enter our garden from the empty and unkempt North Breeze next door. Perhaps that is the reason that Jackie wasted no time in allocating a place for the barn owl’s plinth beside the patio. I expect that benign looking predator appears rather different to a rodent.

Later, Jackie continued weeding and planting, while I fed this year’s compost pile and emptied the last of the matured one onto the Palm Bed.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s bountiful beef casserole served with abundant boiled potatoes. She drank Peroni while I finished the madiran.

‘Wait For Me, Mum’

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This morning I tidied up after some of Jackie’s cutting back yesterday, and was then rewarded by delicious scents from the roses as I dead-headed them.

Elizabeth came to lunch and dinner. This afternoon the three of us drove out to Hyde where we enjoyed refreshments in the café, and the ladies bought plants from the farm shop.

We drove on for a while, crossing the ford at Frogham. The stream under the road was as shallow as we have ever seen it.

The rusting tractor parts up on the bank were in no danger of inundation,

and a pony mare and foal set off to find refreshment elsewhere.

On Roger Penny Way, bringing the traffic to a halt, another pony led her offspring across the road.

As she bent down to chomp the grass a cry of ‘Wait of me, Mum’ rent the air and the little foal began frantically running after its oblivious parent. I have never seen a foal run before.

Further on, having similarly crossed the road, another little pony took refuge under its mother, producing a rather deceptive image.

Before returning home we took a diversion to Bank, near Lyndhurst, where Elizabeth and I took some photographs.

My sister and Rob had lived here when they were young adults, and she took us on a nostalgic wander along the lanes

and into the forest with its somewhat depleted stream.

This evening Jackie produced an excellent meal of poached haddock; swede, parsnip, and potato mash; piquant cauliflower cheese, carrots, and runner beans. Jackie and I both drank Bergerac blanc sec 2016, and Elizabeth chose Louis de Camponac cabernet sauvignon 2016.

P.S. See wfdec’s comment below. He has identified the ‘tractor parts’ as a timber jinker. Many thanks to John.

Smiling For The Cameras

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We have several sparrows’ nests in the garden. They, along with various other small birds, take their ablutions in the Waterboy’s pool, as they did this morning.

Sparrows - one on waterboy's head, another on pool edge

Sparrows - one on waterboy's head, one flying

Sometimes they await their turn for a dip on the little lad’s head, flying off after they are done.

Other perches also come in useful.

I carried out an administrative task in relation to our friend Wolf’s executorship, after which Jackie drove me to the Hordle Post Office.

We were narrowly beaten to Hordle Lane by a crane transporter. This held us up somewhat,

since it took up most of the tarmac, and anyone coming from the other side of the road had to risk driving into the ditch.

There were quite a few of these because it was school run time.

After I had eventually posted some missives, we travelled on to Brockenhurst via Mount Pleasant Lane which rather lived up to its name.

At Highland Water a heron strode purposefully along the shallow stream,

on the other side of which a group of small ponies mowed the lawns.

One of their number had remained on our side and attached itself to a small family.

The father collected up the picnic and took it to a safer place,

while the boys watched with some consternation the pony snuffling the bicycle.

With teeth

and hoof, the animal sought to relieve its itching,

reporting progress to the mother and her younger son

as the father crouched down with his camera.

While other photographers thronged to the scene the model began smiling for the cameras.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb lamb jalfrezi, her rice with peas, and her sag ponir, with which we both drank Kingfisher.

Five If You Hit A Donkey

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As I struggled with ensuring I was digging up allium bulbs around the patio without damaging surrounding plants, I reflected on the tiny thyme twigs that, three years ago, I rescued from the butler sinks lost among the undergrowth covering the Dead End Path.

They are doing very well in their stony, sunny, new home, and don’t at all mind the dry weather we are experiencing.

This afternoon we went for a drive in the forest.

At Burley a cricket match was in progress.

The scoreboard, stationed in front of the pavilion and changing rooms, demonstrated what was obvious to spectators, namely that the bowling side was in receipt of a drubbing. There are eleven players per side in this game. Ten wickets may fall before the innings ends. Sometimes the captain may declare the innings closed before that happens. The top line of figures on the board shows the total, in this case 175. The next is the number of wickets fallen – 4. Then follows the score made by the last batsman out – 33. This was a good score for only four wickets down. The young man wearing pads in the picture was the next man to bat. He was having a long wait.

There is always a drinks interval during each innings at cricket. It was only fitting, therefore, that we should stop for one at The Foresters’ Arms at Frogham, before taking a leisurely route home.

Alongside Roger Penny Way the parents of a pony family cropped the grass while their offspring sprawled beside them.

Further on, another mother led her foal across the road in front of us.

Man in mobility scooter, woman with terriers, cattle, calf 2

Man in mobility scooter, woman with terriers, cattle, calf

In the lane around the back of Cadham we encountered a fascinating grouping consisting of a gentleman in a mobility scooter, a woman, a terrier, and cattle with a calf. Naturally we waited for them to sort themselves out. The man, woman, and dog took themselves to the side of the road;

one of the cows cleaned its hoof; and the calf stayed firmly planted.

The woman kindly shooed it off.

Outside Lyndhurst a less successful attempt was made to persuade another animal to move along.

This time a cricket match was set on a rather undulating piece of ground against a backdrop blessed with a rather splendid thatched pavilion.

A pair of donkeys in the outfield ignored the flanneled sportsmen, and gradually made their way towards the pitch.

After a while one of the players clapped vigorously. This caused one to shift a few yards. It is possible that the cricketer was mindful of the rule about striking an obstruction with the ball. If a ball is hit to the boundary of the field without bouncing, six runs (as the points are called) are awarded. If the ball does hit the ground before crossing the line, the score is advanced by four runs. Whether or not the ball bounces first, a strike which hits an obstruction on the field of play is awarded 5 runs. Consequently hitting a donkey is worth 5.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb chilli con carne with vegetable rice and runner beans. I finished the cabernet sauvignon and Jackie drank Peroni.

Petrified By Ponies

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This afternoon we visited Otter Nurseries in order to buy rambling roses to supplement the planting Jackie carried out this morning.

The Head Gardener was soon into a discussion about campanulas with a another customer seeking information.

I wandered around the plentiful displays while Jackie selected Perennial Blush and Super Elfin ramblers. A bee flitted from lavender to lavender.

As we parked for me to investigate the Heywood Mill stream, a family group wandered, chatting, down the road.

The stream itself was unhindered one side of the road bridge,

and bore the reflections of a fallen tree on the other.

As we drove away, I spotted a deer. This necessitated by driver screeching to a halt and , heart in mouth, reversing back along the narrow, winding, lane until I could poke my lens into the hedgerow. The creature did not hang around.

English bluebells lined the verges and

carpeted woodlands.

Tempted by the sight of two white ponies, one of which was very pregnant, we drove down an even narrower lane.

Further on we encountered a horse and rider, requiring us to stop for them to edge on by.

Next came the penned-in horned sheep. One of these woolly animals was particularly inquisitive.

There were so many ponies on the road near Pilley, that a young driver was unable to move on. Jackie had to drive round her. She apologies, saying that she was petrified by the ponies. It was only when the horses thinned out a bit that she was able to get back into gear.

One of this group was a foal, still very wobbly on its legs.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s sublime cottage pie, served with carrots and Brussels sprouts. I finished the Vacqueyras. Jackie didn’t imbibe further as she had drunk her Hoegaarden on the patio beforehand.

April In May

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Today our April showers began. This morning Jackie continued her planting, weeding, and tidying; while I dug out a bank of sycamore seedlings dropped onto the Back Drive borders by a tree in the garden of the vacant North Breeze next door, and a large bramble from the Rose Garden.

In the variable light numerous plants like

tiny saxifrages,

various tulips,

honesty petals and seed cases,

rhododendrons,

lilies,

and little lamiums sparkled with raindrops.

Others, including libertias,

geranium Phaeums,

clematis Montanas,

another rhododendron,

and the wisteria, were too sheltered to catch the rain.

Jackie with wisteria through kitchen window

The wisteria brightens Jackie’s view from the kitchen window,

in front of which hangs Pauline’s beautifully faceted light catcher.

Garden view with rear of Florence sculpture

The sun came and went above the garden paths, three views of which include the Florence sculpture;

and a fourth, the Brick Path.

This afternoon we drove around the forest.

Up on the moors we could watch the rainclouds sending down shafts of their precipitation, in darker indigo slashes, whilst the sun picked out the glowing gorse.

I waited a while for the sun to pierce the cloud cover and play with this scene of stepped tree roots ascending a gravelly slope.

Brooding clouds, sunlight, gorse, and thatched roofs provided a dramatic entrance to Frogham,

beyond which we spotted our first pony foal of the season, its mother providing instruction in planting yourself firmly on the road. Notice its nice new shoes.

Between Godshill and Cadnam, alongside Roger Penny Way, another, adventurous, new baby kicked up its heels and rushed back to its mother on my approach, then continued to explore the terrain at a safe distance.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious liver, bacon, and sausage casserole, new potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower, followed by custard tart. She drank Peroni and I drank more of the Madiran.

Don’t Frighten The Humans

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Today was largely overcast, but it brightened up a little in Brockenhurst.

We spent the morning mostly tidying and composting the Oval and Elizabeth’s Beds. Jackie continued with this work after we went for a drive this afternoon. I can report that there has been no evidence of Big Beast activity for 48 hours.

Many of the verges in Sandy Down seem to have been tended by the residents. Particularly attractive was that outside Cranford Cottage, where cultivated rhododendrons grow alongside gorse.

Cattle were out in force on the verges and in the woods of Brockenhurst. The mottled black group, perhaps jealous of the attention given to the Highland creatures, wandered into the road to claim their own share.

I became a bovine expert when I explained to a number of visitors that these were Highland Cattle rather a long way from their natural environment.

Venturing into the woodland in order to photograph one particular grazer, I discovered an inviting fern-bound stream, alongside which

my quarry chomped on grass and other undergrowth.

Further along the road a pair of ponies performed their own interpretation of Oscar Wilde’s aphorism. What they were doing was acceptable as long as they didn’t frighten the humans.

This evening we dined on chicken casserole, sage and onion stuffing, roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots, Brussels sprouts, and runner beans. I drank more of the shiraz.

Stalked By A Dalmatian?

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This morning I continued work on the rose garden, Jackie cut back plants in other beds, and

Aaron made considerable headway on weeding the gravel paths.

After lunch, Jackie and I drove into the forest. The terrain around Fritham seems to be the home of miniature ponies. I tend to call them all Shetlands, because I don’t know any better. As we drove past a car park we noticed one vehicle surrounded by these little creatures. Naturally we turned round to investigate.

Brian, who is concerned that I don’t feed carrots to the ponies, should be very pleased that a little girl was doing just that.

Child saying goodbye to Shetland ponies 1

When the time came for our little friend to wave goodbye

the fickle animals moved on to see what they could scrounge from the next vehicle.

A few larger ponies did mingle with the smaller ones,

one of which had me wondering whether there was such a thing as a Dalmatian pony. Later research revealed that it is probably a miniature British spotted pony,

Shetland pony and woman changing shoes 2

Shetland pony and woman changing shoes 1

which, when a young woman on the other side of the car park opened her car boot to change her footwear, trotted over and stood patiently, silently, behind her.

Shetland pony and woman changing shoes 3

Perhaps she felt its breath, for, with a joyful exclamation, she turned and patted it, just as she was in the process of prising off a footwear boot.

Our return home was via Bramshaw, where black-faced sheep spilled into the road.

Upon investigation I discovered that the Newbridge Telephone Kiosk is now a repository for local social history. Among the photographs inside is one of the phone box when it was in use as such, with information about the iconic design and its creator;

Images of St Mary’s Church and an early wedding can be seen through a broken window;

two more weddings, seen here through murky glass, are also remembered.

This evening we dined on tasty pork chops with apple sauce, flavoursome sage and onion stuffing; creamy swede and potato mash; crisp carrots, broccoli and green beans; and piquant cauliflower cheese. I finished the merlot, and Jackie abstained.

Controlled Burning

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Jackie and I spent the morning weeding and clearing the rose garden. The task is not yet finished.

A rather large creature has head-butted a hole in the fence, tossed the insect hotel logs aside, and broken off the legs of a couple of the plastic edge rails bordering the stepping brick path, across which it has trodden a trail. We rather hope it is not a rat. In an attempt at least to deter the beast I have plugged the square hole with a round peg.

The ladybird bug in the weeping birch has taken a mate and led her further up the tree.

This afternoon we went on a drive through the forest.

A group of ponies on the road between Burley and Ringwood feasted on gorse, grass, and brambles on the verge and the bank above it.

One took itself along and across the road where it thought the grass was greener.

Landscape with hikers and controlled burning

Attracted by the smoke of controlled burning, I stepped out onto the heathland where

I met a group of hikers seeking directions. Naturally I led two of them to the driver who set them right.

‘Yearly burning of heather and gorse in the New Forest is helping to reinvigorate the area’s heathland habitats for wildlife, according to a scientific study.’ This quotation comes from http://www.hlsnewforest.org.uk/hls/news/article/11/research_shows_burning_benefits_precious_new_forest_habitats from the Forestry Commission website which has further information.

On the outskirts of Hyde we encountered a string of ponies taking a leisurely stroll along a road lined with

blackthorn.

One of the animals stopped, turned, and noisily expressed its desire that I should also stop, and retrace my steps,

which I did, to find reinforcements alongside the Modus in which Jackie closed the window

in the face of one particularly hopeful individual which,

when I came between it and the passenger side, observed me with what seemed like malevolent intent.

Cattle occupied the higher ground at Gorley Common,

while donkeys’ leathery mouths tore at the gorse below.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s beef cobbler served with boiled potatoes, crunchy carrots, cauliflower, and green beans; and purple sprouting broccoli which turned green the cooked. Jackie drank sparkling water and I finished the Bordeaux.