ponies – Page 68 – derrickjknight

Drinking Water

Today I completed the last of the exhibition prints, whilst Jackie continued a commendable amount of garden maintenance, including cleaning up the decking and placing the newly refurbished table between the cane chair and one of the camellias. The prolific euphorbia in the background has been heavily pruned, and one of the recently planted clematises trained along the trellis installed in the autumn is just visible when the image is enlarged.

We now have a considerable range of blooming pansies that Jackie planted earlier.

This afternoon, we collected the A2 image from Lymington Print and went driveabout.

Leaving the town via Undershore Road we explored the forest and its villages in a fairly small circular route.

Running alongside Lymington River, Undershore is narrow enough to require double yellow lines on both sides. Normally parking close enough to the water is impossible, but we benefited from the gradual decline of the British Pub industry.

The Waggon & Horses, like so many, is up for sale. This meant we could happily block the entrance to their closed up car park,

and I could photograph the river at low tide

with its grounded rowing boats.

This, probably the warmest day of the year, clearly encouraged ponies to paddle in potable pools in which they left both reflections and shadows.

A grey did so at Boldre

and a russet-coloured one at East Boldre,

where ponies lined the street,

and a cock pheasant, oblivious of the surrounding big beasts, strutted about the turf.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious lamb jalfrezi and savoury rice. We both drank Kingfisher.

I Didn’t Have The Energy

Once the overnight ice had melted on the pools, the day remained bright and sunny, albeit a bit chilly.

By late morning, perhaps drawn by the sunlight reflected off one of the white tiles left as markers by The Head Gardener when she planted crocuses in the cryptomeria Japonica bed last autumn, even a dozy fly had been tempted out of hibernation.

The prunus pissardi is now in full bloom;

and springing into life are such as the Weeping Birch Bed,

from which wood anemones cast their shadows onto the Heligan Path.

This afternoon Jackie drove me to O2 in Christchurch to sort out the billing problem. Despite yawning every few minutes, the young man who attended to me was very helpful. He rang the relevant department and handed me his phone to speak to a young lady. Then the fun started. What eventually emerged was that the direct debit that I had signed on 27th February had expired three days later. Don’t ask. I didn’t. This meant there was none in existence. I could start one now, over the phone, but would have to ring them again on 12th to pay my first month’s account. I indicated my displeasure at having to make another call to do this. I was given the option of doing so there and then. Having received confirmation that I had been credited with £10 compensation, I settled the balance in advance. I didn’t have the energy to continue the argument.

After this, Jackie drove us into the forest beyond Brockenhurst, where we turned round and sped for home in time to be there for Aaron who had come in for a short time to put finishing touches to the hall painting before the stair carpet is laid on Wednesday.

On either side of the newly surfaced road through the moors. If they want to cross it they just do.

rounded, healthy, ponies gorged on green grass.

One was totally unconcerned by the clouds of smoke billowing behind it.

This evening we dined on Tesco’s chicken breast fillets with bacon, leeks, and cheese; and Jackie’s mashed potato, fried onions, and boiled cauliflower. I drank a very good Chilean merlot given to me by Ian last night. Jackie drank sparkling water.

Soggy Wootton Heath

Fairly early this morning, before the warming sun had completed the thaw of the overnight frost, we took a drive out in the forest, stopping for a photoshoot on Wootton Heath.

Spiky icing pricked up the grass;

Ice, perhaps indicating footprints, still lay in the churned up mud pools;

and sunlight glittered on the unfrozen temporary lakes.

The monochrome effects are the result of shooting into the sun, the direct rays of which gave a glow to the shrubs and trees, and revealed the green sward beneath the pools.

These shots show pools just behind the lichen-laden trees. Further back, beyond the dogwood, lies a frosted field, seen in the first.

The muddy soil is churned up by ponies, such as these two, apparently asleep. They must be asleep, otherwise they would be chomping grass.

Hello! The one on the right has woken, and, attracted by the prospect of Jackie in the Modus possibly being daft enough to feed it, walked over to the car and waited patiently.

I, on the other hand, crossed the road and focussed on other grazers seeking out the drier parts of the soggy terrain.

Soon, a clattering turning to a thud beside me announced the arrival of the hopeful horse which had crossed to see if the grass was greener on the other side. The clatter was made by hooves on the tarmac, and the thud, from the heavy weight landing on the turf, fortunately not on my feet. Is that frost on the top of the tail of its new companion?

This evening we dined on Jackie’s sublime chili con carne, wild rice and green peas. The Cook finished the sauvignon blanc, whilst I drank Chateau Le Tertre Graves de Vayres 2014.

Animals On The Road

This afternoon Jackie drove us on a tour of the east of The New Forest.

The first stop was just outside Sway, where I spotted an attractive looking pony. Once out of the car and approaching my prey, I found there was another family member emerging from the gorse bush, some of which still adhered to my chosen subject, who had the decency to take her head out of the bush and pose for me.

Brockenhurst has quite an important railway station. Bridges are therefore found over the approach roads. As I prepared to take the first of these shots, I noticed two cyclists coming into view, paused, and clicked a few times.

The house on the left of this image is a comparatively recent building, and demonstrates an affinity for the area. The car approaching the bridge has its headlights on, as do many when driving through the forest.

On Roger Penny Way, just beyond Cadnam, stands the epitome of chocolate box thatched cottages.

A stream, here providing refreshment for a fluttering white dove, runs alongside and in front of

the idyllic country garden.

Further along, at Burwash, we encountered a flock of sheep lazing on the road.

In stepping out to make their acquaintance I disturbed them enough to cause them to take off down the road,

leaving evidence of their fright peppering the tarmac.

Nearing sunset, back on Roger Penny Way, a pair of donkeys were oblivious of the local rush hour traffic,

until they left the the road across which they cast their lengthy shadows.

Tethering Drove in Hale Purlieu. Now there is a place with a name that deserves to host a decent sunset or two.

There were more possibilities at Woodgreen.

As the ponies cropped the grass, I cropped the first of these last two pictures.

This evening we dined on oven fish and chips, mushy peas, pickled onions, and cornichons. Jackie’s choice of beer was Hoegaarden, and mine, Old Speckled Hen.

A Good Arboreal Scratch

We enjoyed another bright and sunny day, albeit a little cooler. A light, short-lived frost had left strings of pearls around our early flowers including

hellebores I had overlooked yesterday,

and prunus pissardi.

This afternoon I watched recorded highlights of last Sunday’s drawn rugby match between Ireland and Wales. This is a very rare result these days, and you have to go back 42 years to the last evenly scored game between these two teams.

After this, Jackie drove us to Ferndene Farm Shop where we bought three bags of compost; then meandered around the forest as far as Godshill and back along Roger Penny Way.

The sun romped in and out of the clouds in the ever-changing skies spilling light and shade over the heathland where well-fattened ponies, with their magpie acolytes, chomped their way across the turf.

When these free-creatures of The New Forest fancied the grass would be greener on the other side, they wandered across the road, exercising their inalienable right to hold up the traffic.

The recent storms have brought down numbers of trees such as this oak, its trunk shattered, on the approach to Burley,

where another, more dead than alive, still stood,

and where one pony left its companions foraging whilst it had a good arboreal scratch.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy chicken curry; savoury rice; and vegetable samosas and pakoras; followed by Sicilian lemon tart and evap. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Fortnum & Mason Saint-Emilio grand cru 2011, given to me by Luci and Wolf for Christmas.

After The Rain 2

On a crisp, bright morning with a cloudless blue sky, we took a drive around the New Forest.

Lacking a leaf canopy, the treetop roof, like our kitchen skylight, leaked onto the forest floor.

These scenes, photographed at Brownhills near Wootton Heath, were repeated throughout our journey. Branches are traced on the surface of pools reflecting various hues of blue contrasting with the seepage from the reddened soil and the

fallen leaves. It was possible to ignore the soggy refuse littered about.

Redlands house name on stone was also reflected in nature’s mirror.

Ponies generally remain deeper in the forest during heavy rain. Today they were everywhere in the forest and on the heathland.

On Whitefield Moor two members of a basking group appeared to lack the energy to support the weight of their heads. The most likely explanation is that these creatures, usually pretty scrawny by this time of the year, have been eating as if it were Christmas for some months now.

A giant, preening, swan, upon closer inspection turned out to be an itchy pony

that tail-twitched off after gaining some relief.

The magnificent upright redwood firs of the Rhinefield arboretum burned in the sunlight.

A group of mud-caked, yellow-tagged, curly haired cattle, as they ambled along the road hugging the wall of a thatched cottage at East Boldre, successfully delayed traffic for a while.

The yellow tags on these creatures’ ears denote ownership by the commoners who are entitled to allow their animals to roam free. I have never seen these beasts released from their byres this early in the year.

This evening we dined at Dynasty in Brockenhurst. I enjoyed a king prawn jalfrezi; Jackie’s choice was paneer chaslick ; we shared an egg paratha, special fried rice, and sag paneer; and both drank Kingfisher.

Rockford Common

This still life arrangement needed no tweaking from me. Even the January morning sunlight was warm enough to defrost the bread.

After lunch Ian drove us through the forest until we arrived at Rockford Common which we eagerly explored.

Ian left off his conversation with one pony to warn me that another was rapidly advancing on me from behind.

The creature was momentarily nose to nose with me, but moved off and continued chomping grass,

with companions spread around the area.

I wandered around on my own for a while,

until spotting Becky, Ian, and Scooby on top of the sandy hill.

Our daughter and her dog followed Ian back down.

Becky then led me back up to the top where we walked along a footpath,

then returned the way we had come. We looked down on the ponies with which I had earlier been communing.

Back in the car, on the way home we stopped for a pleasant drink at the attractive Royal Oak pub in North Gorley.

This evening we reprised yesterday’s macaroni cheese meal, without the asparagus. Jackie and Ian both drank Peroni, and I started on the last bottle of El Sotillo.

Afternoon In The Forest

This morning Aaron made a start on decorating the stairs and landing.

Afterwards Becky drove me, Jackie, and Ian to Abbot’s Well at Frogham, where we lunched in The Foresters’ Arms.

This was another comparatively mild day of rather more sunshine than showers, making for constantly changing light. Our accommodating daughter complied with my various requests for photography stops.

Roger Penny Way runs from Cadnam roundabout to Godshill and beyond. The first stop was to record arboreal reflections in recently formed forest pools.

At Godshill, ponies were reduced to grazing around the edges of more pools that now covered their grass patch.

Soon after Godshill we turned left and drove up to Abbots Well where we disembarked and wandered around for a while.

Other walkers soaked up the landscape.

Ian can be seen emerging from the bushes here,

where bright yellow fungus was to be found.

We lunched in The Foresters’ Arms, where the already excellent food has gone up several notches in quality since our last visit more than a year ago. My burger stack with quite the best onion rings I have ever tasted, superb chunky chips, coleslaw and salad was plentiful enough to suffice for the day’s sustenance. I drank Wadsworth’s 6X. Ian had the same opinion about the same choice of meal, and drank Kronenberg. Jackie also enjoyed her scampi and chips (small appetite size), and Becky her roast beef (kid’s portion). The two ladies shared coffee and coke.

On our return, on the way down to the ford from the pub, we passed a field containing horses that are not wild. That they were not wearing rugs is a reflection on the mild weather.

On a corner of the road stands a typically thatched house.

This time, when we passed Godshill the ponies were feeding in full sunshine.

Rosie Lea

This afternoon Jackie drove Becky and me on a recce through the waterlogged forest. On another reasonably warm day, we enjoyed a little sunshine and a lot of showers.

The first stop was near Wootton Bridge on the way to Brockenhurst.

There we encountered expanding pools of water on the forest floor,

a swollen stream,

intermittent sunshine,

and moody clouds above.

Becky’s red coat brightened the landscape a bit.

Soon after we continued our journey, I spotted a pony mother and child foraging by the roadside, and prevailed upon my driver to stop. As I emerged from the car, my potential subject, completely oblivious of oncoming traffic, stepped into the road and made a beeline for me. Wary of the ticks these creatures carry, I returned to the passenger seat.

Becky photographed our friend through the back window.

The beast then walked round to my door and I took over the camera.

Our continuing progress was then briefly impeded by another pony in the road.

Eventually we arrived at Brockenhurst where the sun now shone on oaks

and lichen alike.

It was time for Rosie. A cup of, that is.

For those readers unfamiliar with Cockney Rhyming slang, tea is Rosie Lea, truncated by omitting the second word.

The proprietors of Rosie Lea’s have chosen the full version in naming their tea shop which won the 2014 Hampshire Food and Drink Awards best tea/coffee shop and customer service awards. Incidentally the Bakehouse, that had the queue across the road yesterday, was the best baker. This photograph also doubles as a selfie for Jackie and me.

The cups and saucers in the cabinet photographed above are those used to serve tea in this establishment which also plays ’50s pop music for the customers.

Shortly before sunset we returned via Sway Tower, otherwise known as Peterson’s Folly.

Before building his monument, Judge Peterson erected a trial model, which is shown to the right of this picture.

Sunset was in its prime above Christchurch Road when we arrived home.

We will be eating rather late this evening. This is because Becky and Ian went out earlier and have been held up in traffic. But, fear not. I know what we will be having so I am able to include it and submit this post in reasonable time. It is beef hotpot, carrots, green beans, and cabbage, followed by profiteroles. I will drink more El Sotillo, Jackie will imbibe Hoegaarden, and I expect Ian will have a beer and Becky rose wine. The food will, of course, be cooked to perfection.

Late Afternoon

This afternoon Jackie dropped me in the Barton Common car park as she drove off to the Beachcomber Cafe where I was to meet her, Becky, and Ian, after they had partaken of coffee and cakes whilst I floundered through the mud.

A bridge has now been placed over the stream running through the common,

where the footpaths are waterlogged,

or so muddy as to make me fear that my walking shoes were in danger of being sucked off.

At one point a pool reflected the sunlight over Christchurch Bay.

The more open areas are populated with numerous memorial benches.

Before threading my way through the kissing gate leading to the golf course, I encountered a rather soggy group of ponies chomping the grass,

or chewing lichen off the gnarled tree branches. This pony’s collar is reflective and a crucial aid to motorists at night. Although the common is securely fenced, you can never rule out the possibility of these animals finding their way on to the road.

Once through the gate, I took the footpath alongside the course down to the clifftop.

More of the footpath has been eroded in the year since my last walk along this way.

On the final stretch of my journey, I monitored the late afternoon sun peeking through the yellowing clouds.

This evening we dined on Becky’s brilliant beef burgers and weird wedges with garlic and herbs. These burgers are built with layers of salad, mayonnaise, cheese, and pickles. I drank more of the El Solitto, Jackie drank Hoegaarden, Ian drank San Miguel beer, and Becky drank Lyme Bay strawberry wine.