ponies – Page 67 – derrickjknight

‘Behind You!’

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This afternoon, we took a drive through the forest. Being the tourist season, there was much traffic, including cyclists, on the road.

On the way into Brockenhurst, a pony trotted elegantly ahead of a car, until it obligingly stepped onto the grass verge and allowed the vehicles to continue on their way.

A string of ponies by Whitemoor Pond attracted both me and a family of visitors.

First the children attempted to involve the creatures in a game of football;

then a young woman tempted them with slices of bread.

I did my best to indicate that this wasn’t a good idea, but we didn’t speak the same language, however,

the equine teeth got the message across.

It was then that I heard Jackie crying ‘behind you!’ I turned around with some trepidation. This was no pantomime.

Behind me, cooling off and slaking their thirst, were two Highland cattle.

I wondered how they could see through their fringes.

They commandeered the pond;

another loner joined in;

and a fourth, with number five on its way across the road, gave the ponies second thoughts about reclaiming the pond.

Having battled along a pitted track of Ringwood Road, we stopped for a drink at High Corner Inn,

where ponies in the car park

were being fed carrots by a chef who told me that the animals congregate under the kitchen extractor vent because it keeps the flies off them.

Near Frogham, a pregnant female donkey with two foals escorted by a large pony temporarily blocked the road.

At least one of the infants seemed confused about its parentage.

Back home, my choice of the goodies superfluous to yesterday’s feast was Coronation chicken and rice, with which I drank McGuigan Bin 578 merlot 2015. Jackie drank Hoegaarden with various other items.

The Ugly Ducklings

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There was much competitive activity from honeybees, particularly partial to poppies

as we loaded two bags of hedge clippings and other green waste into the trusty little Modus for transporting to Efford Recycling Centre.

This was to take some time, much of which was spent in a queue of traffic,

admiring the hedgerows.

On the horizon, through a gap in the trees, can be seen an intriguing land mass.

We had enough time to watch several yachts floating by. This confirmed that the land is that of the Isle of Wight. The yachts were skimming over The Solent.

After this, Jackie drove us to Hatchet Pond and back to see if the swans had hatched their cygnets. They had.

Here are the proud parents with, according to Hans Christian Andersen, their three Ugly Ducklings,

one of which wasn’t quite sure what to do with its legs.

The Pond was so swollen that the birds chewed grass under water.

One of the parents proudly stepped onto the land,

and when they both began hissing I thought that perhaps I had alarmed them into protective mode. Not so. They had seen the couple with the black labrador as they walked behind me.

Black-headed gulls also frequent this pond.

On our return home, I posted the sixth of my seven photographs in the Filling Facebook with Nature project.

Here it is, first featured on my post of 23rd November 2013.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s piri-piri and lemon chicken; a melange of leeks, onions, and mushrooms; mashed potatoes; and carrots and green beans. This was followed by sticky toffee pudding and cream. I finished the Bordeaux.

Gooseberry

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This morning Jackie drove us around the east of the forest.

At East End we passed some ponies chomping by the roadside.

It was a narrow lane, so Jackie drove on and parked in a passing spot for me to walk back to photograph the scene.

This is a small farming area with fields enclosed by hedgerows.

Back up the hill and round the bend, I observed a novel method of clearing ponies from the road.

What this driver did was to give the rear end of the white pony a gentle nudge with the vehicle’s nose and keep creeping forward.

In the field alongside stood, in awe, a little foal with a thought bubble above its head bearing the caption ‘Will I be like you when I grow up?’ I am not sure, however, that this was not a Falabella (named after its Argentine breeder, Julio) such as we encountered at St Leonard’s, further down the road.

This adult horse, lost in a group of larger ponies, rarely exceeds 75 cm. in height.

Two pairs in this group were indulging in heavy petting,

which extended to love bites,

which was all rather difficult for the unfortunate, mournful-looking, gooseberry.

We visited the Lavender Farm at Plaitford where we enjoyed coffee and plants along with many other visitors.

Even before entering we could see that lupins and foxgloves were in abundance.

Many more plants at their peak were also on sale;

and, of course, numerous types of lavender,

also growing in the gardens. I am not sure which bird is represented by the avian topiary in the centre distance of this shot,

but this is surely an elegant swan.

Since our last visit a blue painted plough has been added to the interesting artefacts enhancing the beds.

This evening we dined at Dynasty in Brockenhurst. My choice of main meal was Ayre (fish) jalfrezi with special fried rice. We shared onion bahji, tarka dhal, and egg paratha. Jackie and I drank Kingfisher, and Sheila drank sparkling water.

Mothers’ Protection

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I watered the pots in the front garden this morning.

More pink roses bloom on the trellis each day;

and clematis Piilu

and a tiny solanum are now making their way across the garage door frontage.

New arrivals in the Rose Garden include Mamma Mia,

Rosa Mundi,

and Deep Secret;

and my favourite rhododendron is coming to fruition.

The peach rose is reaching its peak,

and attracting bees.

This afternoon we took Sheila on a forest driveabout to the North of the forest.

A group of ponies on the far side of Burley ignored a Give Way sign as they held up the traffic.

While we were watching another group, including a couple of foals, drinking in the stream at Ibsley,

an alarming neighing was set up by two other adults of these normally silent animals. There was a clattering of hooves on the tarmac to our right, and a thudding on the sward on the other side of the water, as the spooked ponies scattered. The foals clambered up the bank at the calls of their dams. This one nuzzled its relieved parent.

These creatures reconvened on the road.

Meanwhile others tore frantically around the field until a loose collie dog ran off and joined its owners out of sight. The horses then quietly regrouped under the trees.

Some homeowners leave carrots out for ponies. This mother crunched on one, whilst her foal satisfied itself with grass to the right of the cattle grid protecting the house entrance.

As I disembarked from the car, the youngster made its way back to its Mum,

and had a scratch under the protection of her flanks.

We stopped off for a drink at The Royal Oak in North Gorley, then Sheila treated us to a meal at The Plough in Tiptoe. We all chose gammon steak, eggs, chips, and peas. My drink was Ringwoods Best Bitter. Probably because I had also had a pint at The Royal Oak, I wasn’t able to fit in a dessert.

Traffic Control

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Most of our roses are now in bloom.

We have, for example, Laura Ford;

Summer Time;

and, sharing the blue painted arch with Madame Alfred Carière, Summer Wine;

whilst the pink ones at the front are beginning to festoon the trellis.

A couple of times in recent days, when we haven’t had time to stop, we have seen ponies in the forest attached to very young, limpet-like foals, their Pelham puppet legs only just out of the box. Today we went in search of some. For the first hour we saw none. It is a Bank Holiday weekend, and Jackie speculated that the parents had led their babies off into the forest for their protection from grockles and their groping fingers.

All we encountered was lowing cattle leading their larger offspring across our path.

Then, at last, on the moor along the Beaulieu/Brockenhurst road, our patience was rewarded.

This mare and her foal were part of a larger group, initially keeping their distance.

The mother decided to lead her infant away from the others,

but, despite an abrupt change of direction, couldn’t shake off the determined member of a smaller breed who was clearly well imprinted, so,

in a vain attempt to escape, she initiated her lanky infant into the arts of traffic control.

The rest of the team loyally followed.

Further on, its mother close enough, another young pony dared to be inquisitive.

It jerked to its feet when she moved a few metres away, reached the safety of her flanks,

and stood, chomping, alongside the mare.

This evening we dined at Royal China in Lymington, where we enjoyed the usual excellent food with very friendly service. We shared chicken satay, king prawns in a chilli sauce, and plain chow mein with bean shoots; and both drank Tsingtao beer.

Ducks In The Window

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The statues bought yesterday were what we think are two of a series representing the seasons;

the girl is for summer,

and the boy, autumn.

These are termed ‘vintage’ which probably means c1950. They have had time to gather signs of age.

Mid-morning today, we left Aaron painting the metal chairs in the rose garden, and Jackie drove us to Upper Dicker where we; and Becky and Ian; visited Mat, Tess, and Poppy and stayed the night.

By the roadside between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu, possibly because Barack Obama is visiting at the moment, a despondent Donald Trump attempted to drum up support. for his candidature. Signalling a dismal failure, his target audience showed him a clean set of hooves.

Poppy is now able to join us at the table;

and enjoys reading with Tess.

Looking through the window at the washing he had just hung out in the garden, Matthew rekindled childhood memories, which he shared with Becky, of strings of ducks drying in the Soho restaurants.

This evening Tess produced a wonderful beef stew with roast potatoes and a quinoa salad, followed by chocolate and peanut icecream. My choice of beverage was an excellent Valdepenas red wine.

Triangulation

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As the golden dawn crept across the rape field on the other side of Christchurch Road that greets Jackie when she opens the bedroom curtains, she commandeered my camera to good effect.

From one of the back bedrooms she looked down onto the lead planter fashioned by Lucille Scott in the form of a wide-brimmed hat.

A little later, I photographed the clouds over the front of the house.

Drawn by the beautiful morning we took an early drive into the forest, where

ponies enjoyed a crisp breakfast;

and commuter traffic was reflected in the roadside pools.

Having dropped me off for me to take the above picture, Jackie drove on to a turning space, back-tracked, and parked on the edge of the woodland I was now investigating.

Slanting shadows slid across tumbling terrain and plunging pools, and

in haze on the other side of the road, gorse conversed with fresh arboreal plumage.

Further on, a pair of donkeys dozed on Norleywood village green

whilst another couple availed themselves of the street furniture to have a good scratch.

As we approached Lymington we passed a bluebell wood. Given that there is a fear that the stronger, less delicate, yet lighter hued Spanish breed will subsume our native stock, an indigenous collection is a welcome sight.

On our recent trips to and from The First Gallery, we have several times passed a short man-made pillar in a stretch of moorland bearing a number of signs bearing the word Hilltop. Pooling our combined smatterings of knowledge we realised this was what would be marked ‘trig point’ on the Ordnance Survey maps and was something to do with measuring height, presumably above sea level.

Jackie decided to research this today, and discovered that, according to BBC News, on this very date ‘Ordnance Survey (OS) is celebrating the 80th anniversary of the triangulation pillar, most often known as a “trig pillar” or “trig point” and a welcome sight to many a walker as they reach the peak of their walk.’

That, in fact, was the real reason we dashed out to catch our little pillar in the morning sunshine. The pillar wasn’t going anywhere, but the light, we knew, would change. As will be seen on the link below, OS no longer use these markers for their original purpose, but they remain helpful landmarks. Many also now bear decoration from the general public. What this particular set of graffiti signifies I do not know.

Each pillar bears an identification number.

Most cameras have a tripod mount into which the steadying instrument is screwed. The theodolite, the measuring device used by these early surveyors was clipped to a fitting on the top of the pillar,

here seen in its setting.

For anyone wishing to explore this subject further, I can heartily recommend

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/in-pictures-36036561

which is lavishly illustrated by photographs, both historic and modern.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent and spicy sausage casserole; creamy mashed potato; and crunchy carrots and Brussels sprouts. It is worthy of note that the sausages were Ferndene Farm Shop pork with chilli, which afforded a delicious piquancy. The Cook drank Blanche de Namur and I drank Reserve des Tuguets madiran 2012.

Spot The Deer

On a dull afternoon which only brightened up on our way home, Jackie took us on a driveabout to the North of the forest and back.

It being possibly the first weekend of the holiday season, pedestrians, cyclists and riders, like these on the outskirts of Brockenhurst, sometimes holding up proceedings, abounded.

It was the red coated little girl on the Thelwell pony, visible as the group turned left off the road, who caught our eye and had me leaping out of the car. Thanks to http://www.telegraph.co.uk for the image.

Beyond the 30 mph sign to the right of the first picture, can be seen the start of a waterlogged drive,

whilst the verge on the left bears typical pools of recent rainwater.

Ponies, ignoring the passing traffic, continued their task of mowing the grass, which is more than I could do at home today, because it was too wet.

Apart from the cyclist’s outfit, the fresh yellow gorse was the brightest aspect of this particular soggy stretch.

At Ibsley, a string of sedate donkeys exercised their right of way among the traffic,

whilst, further on at Hyde cows had the intelligence to teach their calves road sense by taking a detour around us. As you can see, there is one behind us.

Readers may discern a camouflaged deer in this shot. It’s there, honest.

Unfortunately I pressed Publish before adding our meal and the tags. This should put that right. We enjoyed beef burgers, fried onions, chips, and baked beans for our dinner, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Reserve des Tuguets madiran 2012.

Mulching And Composting

The early sun set the front garden glowing gold, as always, this morning. The autumn flowering cherry has been in bloom since last October. The telegraph pole, from which a cluster of cables fans out along Christchurch Road and all points of the compass, receives regular visits from BT engineers.

What this area looked like a year ago can be seen in ‘Before And After: Through To The Front’.

Much maintenance was carried out today,

my major contribution being mulching the three bags of Landscape Bark bought yesterday into the rose garden;

and Jackie’s, weeding and composting The Palm Bed.

This wide-eyed owl was decapitated by storm Katie. Surgeon Jackie performed the necessary operation.

We are still at least three bags of bark short for the rose garden, so this afternoon we drove back to

Mole Country Stores and bought them;

after which we took a roundabout route back through the farm lanes where we spotted a group of ponies, three of which masqueraded as sheep. Sway Tower can be seen in the background. Otherwise known as Peterson’s Folly, this landmark has featured in a number of these posts.

Finally, we topped up with compost in the form of ten 35 litre bags from Lidl.

We left those in the car and settled down for a beer (well, one each, actually) in the rose garden. It is quite a sun trap so we were certainly warm enough.

This evening we dined on tender fillet steak lost under lashings of fried onions. accompanied by mixed vegetables au gratin (left overs in cheese sauce), crisp carrots, Brussels sprouts, and new potatoes. Jackie drank sparkling water and I finished the Memoro.

Folding Flyers

Last night a full yellow, pink haloed, moon was framed by limbs of garden trees such as an evergreen mahonia

or rolled in the grip of deciduous fingers of beech.

This morning we collected Paul’s mount board from Wessex Print in Pennington and delivered this, the flyers, and exhibition prints to The First Gallery, where, whilst enjoying coffee and Margery’s mini hot cross buns, Paul and I checked over my work, and

Jackie and Margery had fun folding flyers.

On the moors between Beaulieu and Lymington linger many pools in which trees stand.

On one, another grey pony slaked its thirst in its own bath water (I am indebted to Johnna of painkills2.wordpress.com for the bath water).

Suitably replenished, the dripping animal bounded onto the turf, circled the neighbouring pool above, and settled down to graze beyond its bay companion.

Unfortunately I had overlooked one of the A3 prints. This was the table top abstract which I therefore made on our return home. I suppose one out of fifty isn’t bad.

This evening Jackie’s delicious lamb jalfrezi was served with pilau rice, chick pea dhal, and parathas. We both drank Kingfisher