ponies – Page 65 – derrickjknight

Boat Maintenance

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

This morning I printed some pictures for Christmas presents, which it would be premature to publish here.

This afternoon I scanned another batch of colour negatives from early 1986.

During that prolonged winter, Sam’s and Louisa’s expressions show quite clearly how cold it was when Matthew, dubbed by Louisa ‘the best big brother ever’, took them out for a buggy ride from Gracedale Road.

It was clearly much more cosy when he read them a story.

At 10.19 one morning Louisa bounced up and down, possibly trying to dislodge her mother and brother from bed. Sam was not impressed. The bedside lamp was made from a stone hot water bottle gained from our ‘Mudlarking’ days.

That year snow lay on the ground for the first three months. It would have been after that when Jessica, Sam, and I spent a week in Mary Dewsberry’s holiday home in Haslemere. The evidence for this is the farm track up which we walked on a recce. Last year’s bracken and autumn leaves lingered in the country terrain.

Jessica, Sam and Louisa feeding ponies 1986

This may have been the occasion when we discovered that the two children both had allergies to horses, the touch of which caused their eyes to swell up alarmingly.

Under the cloak of a little coppice, Louisa made a diving effort to reenter her mother’s womb. Sam insisted that there was room for two.

Mary’s son, Nick, and his children Jack and Dora, welcomed Sam and Louisa into their boat maintenance crew. Louisa made a quick recovery after her early tip-up, and everyone set to with gusto.

This evening, Jackie produced succulent roast duck, suitably reduced spinach, boiled potatoes, and crunchy carrots and cauliflower. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Western Cape Fair Trade shiraz 2015.

The Leap

CLICK ON INDIVIDUAL IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS LEAD TO GALLERIES WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

(YVONNE SPOILER ALERT. THE RECIPE IS NOT YET READY, BUT YOU MAY WISH TO AVERT YOUR EYES FROM THE FINAL PARAGRAPH)

Late in the morning Jackie drove us to Nomansland where we lunched in the Lamb Inn.

Even at midday, ponies on the green outside dined on defrosted food, avoiding the refrigerated options.

In the hostelry, beside a fine log fire, and beneath a display of character jugs, I enjoyed a burger, chips, and Doom Bar beer; while Jackie chose a bacon, brie, and cranberry baguette with coffee.

As we drove away, we passed a rider who led her steed through the gate to her left.

At St Peter’s Church, Bramshaw, the autumn leaves blended well with the groggy lichen-covered gravestones, mostly dating from the eighteenth century. Steep steps lead up the hill from the roadside; there is also a slope to the side, no doubt for those parishioners who cannot climb.

Most of the structure seemed to be Georgian in date, although one stone wall looked older,

and I am not enough of an architectural historian to date this fascinating chimney.

Thinking it unlikely that the Modus would obstruct anyone, Jackie tucked it in beside the church. She was unlucky. Along came a hedge cutting machine.

We paused at Wootton so I could photograph a couple of ponies drinking from a stream. As I raised my camera, one leaped from the water to the bank above.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious liver casserole, crunchy carrots and green beans, with creamy mashed potato. She drank sparkling water and I drank Collin-Bourisset Fleurie 2015.

Ever-Changing Skies

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN A GROUP TO ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE. THE INDIVIDUAL PHOTOGRAPH NEEDS JUST A CLICK.

Aaron of A.P. Maintenance has recently completed the last section of fencing, and reorganised the compost bins. Today, he and his nephew Rory took away some of the resultant rubbish. This photograph is one of the few that I was able to take today in sunshine and with a dry camera.

During the rest of the day I was in and out to the garden attempting a few photographs of plants enjoying the sunshine and the showers. Perhaps only the duck and the frog were really in their element. The rain bejewelled primulas, daffodils, camellias, clematis cirrhosa, hellebores, iris, pulmonaria, and faux poppy sat for me quite nicely.

By mid-afternoon I conceded victory to the wind which enforced such rapid changes in the skies that all this last batch of pictures were produced within minutes during which rain fell continuously. Clouds rolled rapidly across the Heavens, sometimes concealing, sometimes revealing the sun

throwing its glowing light on this holly trunk against a sludgy bank of cloud.

This evening we dined on minced beef pie, creamy mashed potato and swede, red cabbage, crunchy carrots, leeks, and onions. I finished the merlot.

Honey Lane

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. DOING SO ON SMALLER GROUPS GIVES ACCESS TO GALLERIES.

The bright sunshine that tempted us out for an early drive through the forest was to last all day.

Beams searching their way into the trees picked out the browns, the golds, the greens, and the greys of the season.

while dog walkers shared the bracken coated moors with browsing ponies.

Sunlight slashed the road skirting Holmsley on the way to Burley.

I am no good at cars, so I cannot identify either the old or the new models passing each other here. No doubt a reader will oblige. (Cue, Barrie). (Barrie responded to his cue and put this on Facebook: ‘As to the cars, the old one is what looks like a bog standard Austin 7 albeit quite an early one (1920s) as it does not have a rear fuel tank. The newer one at first I thought was a Volvo (new cars all look the same to me!) but expanding the picture shows what looks like a round red badge on the grill so I believe it to be some sort of Jaguar, but I stand to be corrected!’)

There are a number of golf courses in the New Forest. As we passed one just outside Burley, I notice both ponies and putters on the green. By the time Jackie had parked the Modus and I had walked back, the golfers were moving on, to another tee on the opposite side of the road. I pointed out to one that a ball lay in the ditch. He thanked me, hooked out the ball with a club, and joined his friends who were surrounded by a similar equine audience.

Undeterred, the sporting trio teed off.

Another group of three ponies dozing on the verge of Burley Street had not moved by the time I returned from a wander down Honey Lane.

The lane, pock-marked by pitted pools, was more hospitable to Land Rovers than to our little car, so Jackie parked up and left me to it.

We took a rest and a late breakfast at The Hyde-Out Cafe. My choice was a Full English, while Jackie’s was fried eggs on toast. That took care of lunch, too.

There were warning signs informing drivers that pigs were roaming free, but just beyond Gorley it was a cyclist who hogged the centre of the road.

A more sensible female equestrian kept her steed to the edge of it.

Not so a group of donkeys, one of whom held eye contact through our windscreen until the helpful horse nudged it and its friends aside, and continued on its way.

A free Forest pony, sporting Regency style ringlets, observed all this with interest.

As we approached Godshill, a helmeted cyclist employed staccato stop-start attempts to lead his family across a road junction. He alternated between calling them forward and sending them back, as he made the same movements. To our relief, he was eventually successful.

We made our way home via Roger Penny Way, one of the major thoroughfares traversing the forest.

This evening we dined on beefburgers with caramelised onions on a bed of roasted vegetables; mashed potato; carrots, cauliflower, spinach, and Brussels sprouts; followed by Jackie’s tried and tested pumpkin pie with whipped cream that had been bought and paid for. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, while I quaffed Cono Sur Bicicleta pinot noir 2015.

Overwintering At Lepe

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THE SMALLER GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES.

Late this morning Jackie drove us to Lepe where we enjoyed a brunch in the cafe by the beach.

Gulls scavenged among the pebbles and the seaweed that proved there is a stronger wet smell than that of damp dog.

You see, the seaweed aroma pervaded the air so much that it swamped any scent of the dog that, dashing into the sea on the end of a telescopic leash; in a vain attempt to capsize the honking avian flotillas commandeering the surface of the water; became very wet indeed.

Upon enquiry at the Information centre, I learned that these noisy birds were Brent geese who regularly fly from Canada and Siberia to enjoy what they must experience as a summer holiday in Lepe.

There was a fair amount of shipping seen on the horizon,

and approaching the Isle of Wight, which formed the backdrop of a number of these photographs.

A container vessel passed a spit

along which. at low tide a group walked out to sea. I assume they were not aiming to walk all the way to the island.

A helicopter chugged overhead,

where, later, the next flock of geese arrived for their overwintering.

Work was being undertaken on a terrace of cottages on the slopes above the beach. These listed dwellings were built in 1828 to house coastguards employed to combat the centuries-old customs of smuggling and piracy. The building nearer the shore was the Watch House.

Driving past them led us to the corner of Inchmery Lane where, perched on the side of the cliff, stood a lighthouse,

overlooking a stretch of beach belonging to a wildlife preservation society.

Taking the left bend visible in the above photograph of the lane, we continued along it, catching glimpses of the sea through the trees on our left.

At Moonhill, on our way to Beaulieu, a pony feeding in the forest caught my eye. I made my way through the trees and caught his. As I set out to cross the road back to the car, an equine companion did the same on its way into the woods. This had the usual effect on the traffic.

A neat stack of felled tree trunks occupied a cleared area.

For our dinner this evening, Jackie supplemented our second sitting of the Chinese takeaway with her superb egg fried rice. I finished the cabernet sauvignon.

A Rogue Encounter

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN SMALLER CLUSTERS GIVE ACCESS TO GALLERIES.

This afternoon we drove to Homebase in Christchurch and purchased a lavatory seat, a handle for the cistern, and a tin of touch up paint to cover a repair to the guest bathroom wall where a visitor had pulled the towel rail off.

After this we toured the forest until after dark.

Some way north of Ibsley our path was blocked for a good fifteen minutes by an obdurate bovine that, head down and white tail swishing, made its deliberate, stubborn, way down the centre of the road. Even the approach of another car did not deter this red cow. Eventually we were able to draw level, by driving onto the grass verge. The idea was to take a close-up photograph with the window open. An upturned head, and a warning bellow gave me second thoughts. The creature then turned left and continued down to a ford which it crossed by means of the footbridge. Giving a couple of ponies a wide birth the animal carried on up the opposite slope and vanished from sight.

A 4X4 then crossed the ford and stopped alongside me. The driver asked me if I had been photographing the deer. When I explained our interest in the cow, she explained that this was a ‘rogue’. It was quite aggressive and possibly dangerous. Efforts were being made to trace the owner, because it needed ‘to be taken out of the forest’.

Jackie had seen the deer and pointed them out. I walked back to the ford to photograph them. Despite the distance, at each click of the camera, more of the creatures raced across the field, as if they were posing for the Lascaux caves.

Further on along the road, we passed two more families behind the trees, with others on the far side of a fence. They were more inquisitive.

Up on the moor at Abbots Well, we watched a sunset rather more muted than of late.

The pool in which these trees were reflected had been dryer a couple of weeks ago.

On our way back, at two different points along an unlit Roger Penny Way, three deer and a pig risked their lives by running across in front of the car. The pig was intent on joining its snuffling, snorting, grunting, family hoovering up a fine crop of beech nuts.

We stopped for a drink at The White Hart in Pennington on our way home. We then dined on Jackie’s lovely lamb curry, onion rice, and naans. I drank a glass of Axis 251 Coonawarra cabernet sauvignon 2015.

An Electric Light Show

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE; THOSE IN SMALLER CLUSTERS GIVE ACCESS TO GALLERIES.

Becky and Ian returned home at lunchtime. I spent the afternoon printing off a draft novel a friend has sent me, doing me the honour of seeking my opinion on the work.

We left the printer processing the last few pages and set off for Tanners Lane to witness the sunset.

Naturally we were obliged to take our time in the queue to the beach. Some of the ponies sported day-glo orange to make sure they were noticed.

While waiting for a clear path we observed the evening light on the Isle of Wight in the distance.

This glow lent lively colours to the beach and sea waters at high, lapping, tide; and, of course, the Island, The Needles, and the lighthouse.

One other photographer was abroad. Naturally we had a chat.

Eventually, the sun sank low enough for the Electric Light Show to begin.

Back home this evening, Jackie and I dined on her wonderful sausage casserole, mashed potato, and boiled carrots, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts. I drank Mendoza Bodega Toneles malbec 2012.

Indigo, Sepia, Lightning

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE; SMALLER CLUSTERS GIVE ACCESS TO GALLERIES.

The four of us brunched today at Beachcomber cafe on the cliff top at Barton on Sea, within sight of The Isle of Wight and The Needles.

The day’s ever-changing light laid a haze over the ponies on Barton Common. Although these animals roam freely like any other New Forest pony, for their own protection, they are fenced along the road through to the coast.

Various walkers cast their shadows across the beach.

I am not sure of the purpose of the stationary working boat that rested on the sun-slashed ocean surface beneath the indigo skies.

The Beachcomber was as well patronised as usual; the food was good, and the service efficient and friendly.

Shortly before sunset I walked down Downton Lane and along the path through Roger’s fields. The sky bore a strangely sepia hue,

until the lowering sun set the cottages and fields alight,

and sent lightning flashes overhead.

This evening we dined on perfectly roasted lamb and potatoes; stuffing; crunchy cauliflower, carrots, and runner beans; gravy with lots of goodies, and mint sauce; followed by spicy pumpkin pie and cheesecake. Ian drank Peroni; the ladies, Australian white wine; and I finished the rioja.

Fire In The Sky

CLICK ON CLUSTERED IMAGES TO ACCESS LARGER GALLERIES

I began the day by managing to load all the pictures missing from yesterday’s post.

Flushed with success on this morning bright and crisp enough to bring tinges of pink, like those still visible in the garden, I ventured outside with my camera.

Although the curtain of weeping birch leaves is preparing to shed its beads, and the hosts of honesty reveal its seeds,

we still have plenty of colourful blooms, such as these dahlias, Japanese anemones, and fuchsias;

while begonias, honeysuckle, nicotianas, and penstemons persist.

This afternoon we went on driveabout.

On the moors between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu, the lowering sun gilded the topmost bracken fronds.

As we approached Beaulieu, ponies and cattle shared the grazing.

The equines wandered along the road seeking traffic to disrupt;

further on, a trio was more interested in the fodder.

Hatchet Pond itself was still and reflective.

On our return we diverted to Milford on Sea to catch the sunset. Looking east towards the Isle of Wight the sky wore pastel pinks and indigo hues;

contrasting with the fiery flames lighting up the west. As the sun receded into the water its radial beams streamed upwards.

This evening we dined on cheese-centred haddock fish cakes, mashed potato and swede, crunchy cauliflower, carrots, and runner beans, with which we both drank Prestige & Cavet sauvignon blanc 2014.

The Witch Hunt

CLICK ON THE SMALLER, CLUSTERED, IMAGES TO ACCESS THE ENLARGED GALLERIES.

This morning Jackie drove us to Burley in search of witches.

The landscape across the moors early in the morning offered misty slate layers in the distance.

On the approach to Burley, the leaves on the trees were turning the rich colours of autumn

The car park in the village was largely occupied by ponies who had generously left a few spaces for the traffic.

One little lad in a buggy wasn’t all that sure about the attention he received.

We soon realised that we had missed the real Halloween event which had been on Saturday, two days ago. Our witch hunt was therefore fruitless. We had to settle for carved pumpkins, including the winning mouse, and ghastly ghouls sporting sheets.

Some sorceresses had abandoned their hats in the form of traffic cones that had found their way into the landscape. In the first of these two photographs the bicycle attached to the railing was probably left by a witch as she switched to here broom. In the second, Jackie converses with a garrulous goose.

Its companion practiced its contortions and they both enjoyed a good preen.

A communal field on the edge of the village contained examples of agricultural machinery and artifacts of a bygone age;

a shepherd’s hut;

and the parked up Burley Wagon Rides conveyance with a nearby pitched tent.

Trees, one with nibbled lower branches, one dead

We had been told that a herd of red deer could often be seen on the far side of the field. Like the witches, the deer had flown, but the evidence of their presence was shown by the pruned lower branches of the trees they had pruned.

A bonfire, surprisingly swarming with wasps, was being prepared for the next celebration event, namely fireworks night on the 5th of November, commemorating the failure of the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. Foiled by betrayal, this was a Catholic attempt to blow up the House of Lords and kill King James I. Instead, Guido (Guy) Fawkes was hung, drawn, and quartered. (See LordBeariofBow’s comment below). This involves taking down a hanged victim before death, cutting out living vital organs and quartering the body. It was a common punishment for treachery in those days.

Beyond the field could be seen Burley Manor Hotel. The original manor house dated from the twelfth century. In 1852 the building was demolished to make way for this Victorian replacement which has been an hotel since 1935.

Dew continued to bejewel grass and fallen leaves when we left to return home.

Charles Lane, Bagnum is just one of the sun-streaked roads that rushes towards us as we travel through the forest.

It wasn’t until, watching the 1 p.m. BBC News, I looked beyond Hugh Pym, that I realised the destination of at least one of the Burley witches.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s lovely liver and bacon casserole which was far more tender and tasty than that I had eaten yesterday at Otter Nurseries. It came with new potatoes and perfect Brussels sprouts and runner beans. Lemon and lime merangue pie was to follow. I finished the madiran.