Tag: pools

An Avian Post

It was the raising of this manhole cover by human waste that had recently caused us to contact Greg of Mouland Drainage who provided his usual exemplary service at a Senior Citizen’s discount.

Knowing that there would be two other points requiring clearance we made them accessible to Greg as best we could. This meant the artefacts on top of the covers had to be returned in place afterwards.

Just after lunch I righted the owl and planters covering the first of

these, while the other with two filled aluminium tubs is, for fear of toppling over, beyond me now.

This year is the first that the Japanese maple above the patio bed has enjoyed colourful autumn foliage.

On this perpetually overcast, yet warm open-waistcoat weather we took a forest drive.

I negotiated the pools on Tanners Lane to photograph the beach with

its water-beaten breakwaters and

distant views over which I could discern distant honking geese in flight, without realising that they would emerge over Tanners Lane

where Jackie would be able to photograph them from much closer;

another flock crying out to those overhead;

starlings switching from wires to tree in rotation;

a buzzard keeping eyes peeled for potential prey;

and me, before I later added

a pheasant face-off on St. Leonard’s Road.

Having begun with an owl on the patio we completed today’s theme with Jackie’s nourishing chicken stewp welcoming the addition of one of yesterday’s chopped duck breasts and crusty rolls with which I drank more of the pinotage.

A Further Deluge

This grey day was at least dry when we set off for my encouraging “all good” routine dental inspection from Dr Matthew Hefferan at Birchfield Dental Practice, followed by a forest drive.

This held good until, while photographing – judging by the dry sawdust – a clearly very recently fallen tree which must have straddled the lofty Braggers Lane earlier, I felt the first drops of what was to develop into steady heavy rain for the rest of the day.

Most field horses wore protective rugs in muddy fields.

Here are views from this high point of the lane.

Until we reached Thatchers Lane I stopped photographing the increasing circles dropping into pools, many completely crossing camber of lanes, but here we found their depths could not be discerned and Jackie was not about to chance discovering them.

We turned and headed to Ripley’s

water meadows now draped in the swollen River Avon.

Jackie parked on the entry to a private fishing area which we thought would stay closed for a while, while I got wet. She produced the last two photographs in this gallery.

This evening we all dined on piri-piri spicy marinaded chicken; creamy mashed potato; tender purple sprouting broccoli turning green when cooked; and a melange of mixed vegetables with which Jackie drank more of the rosé and I drank Mighty Murray shiraz.

The Bearded Pony

With very few raindrops adding to yesterday’s deluge contribution on the roads, on the moors, and on the woodlands, despite the welcome sunshine, the gale force winds picking up made the temperature feel far more than the alleged seven degrees centigrade as we splashed out on an early forest drive.

It was round the corner into Hordle Lane that we first encountered tarmac awash with pools.

Having negotiated the Woodcock Lane junction, turning right into Silver Street,

Jackie deviated across the road into Agars Lane with its ancient high banked verges, where she was able to park giving me a good vantage

point for photographing vehicles spraying precipitation into the air.

After Barrows Lane reflecting the Parcel Force delivery van’s splash of colour I decided to focus on other scenes.

This meant a visit to Boundway Hill where we parked beside broken

limbs from an ancient oak tree that must have suffered the damage not too long ago.

Knowing that a fine woodland landscape would reward the effort, with some trepidation I ventured

down the soggy footpath towards

the welcome sight.

The surrounding woodland and its verges bore their share of reflecting pools.

On the way down to Brockenhurst, beside a gravelled road linking with the adjacent tarmac forming deep potholes,

foraged three ponies,

one sporting an erstwhile fashionable beard.

We hadn’t brunched at The Potting Shed in Redcliffe Garden Centre since before Covid and knee replacements, and thought it time to try it again. It is as good as ever, having had a tasteful makeover without changing its essential country garden character.

This popular venue was as packed as we always remembered it, which means that, in order to respect privacy I had to focus on one corner only when its occupants had left and before replacements had arrived.

In the top left hand corner of these two images appears an invitation to book a vintage tea party, no doubt served on the crockery displayed in the dresser.

The wood burning stove is protected by a fire guard with clear warnings.

Beautifully drawn decorations and artefacts decorate all the walls, and

very apt quotations are painted on the ceilings.

Many of my readers will agree with this one by Cicero.

Service was amazingly fast, efficient, and friendly. I was particularly impressed with how quickly, cleanly, and tidily vacated tables were cleared ready for the next customers, although no-one was rushed.

Jackie’s egg mayonnaise sandwich, served with fresh salad and crisps was well filled and moist;

My ham, double egg, and chips, was equally perfect, with eggs served sunny side up and soft enough to dip well browned chips.

This evening we all dined on haddock cheese-centred fish cakes; Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese; crunchy carrots; green peas, and white and sweet potato mash, with which The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the fitou.

Mirrors For Ponies

With the weather milder and drier, after a brief splash through the streets of the New Forest, Jackie and I enjoyed another excellent lunch at Camellia’s restaurant in Everton Nursery.

Primroses, like these on a Boldre bank, are now appearing everywhere.

Many streets like these at Pilley still bear pools that most drivers would prefer to avoid;

greens there also provide mirrors for ponies,

some of whom find damp grass to lie on.

We were slow enough entering Lymington for me to snatch this shot through the windscreen.

Becky and Ian returned home to Southbourne this afternoon, and were therefore unable to partake of this evening’s sustenance consisting of our usual variety of prawn preparations and Jackie’s savoury rice with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Nero d’Avala

Harbingers Of Spring

With a weak sun periodically lifting the grey of the day, after a shop at Tesco Jackie and I drove into the forest, where we found reflecting pools continuing along the lanes and verges,

such as those of Bisterne Close;

Forest Road, where one rather bewildered gull looked bemused as a flock of others took off when we arrived;

and Beckley Common Road, along which the worst potholes have actually recently been filled.

This latter road also harbours discarded wheelbarrows beside mossy roots like those on the bank at the other end of

Bennets Lane from

The White Buck pub.

Another wrecked van has been dumped on the path to a house off Molsley Passage. I hope the residents take comfort from the

golden gorse landscape they can look out on.

Currently the ubiquitous blackthorn rivals the splendour of the gorse.

Although we are certainly seeing harbingers of spring, ponies like this one on Bisterne Close are retaining their shaggy winter coats.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s tasty penne Bolognese with Parmesan cheese. I added Scotch Bonnet sauce to mine. The Culinary Queen and Ian both drank Blue Moon and I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

A Surprise Sunset

Following yesterday’s post

this is Ellie’s favourite position for reading, and her favourite book of Jackie’s crossword puzzles.

After this morning’s sofa session Jackie and I splashed our way to the Efford Recycling Centre where we deposited another carload of garden refuse. Roads were still carrying too much water, but, although the sun had disappeared, at least the wind and rain had subsided.

The afternoon continued dull and dingy when we set out on a forest drive.

Having concentrated on waterlogged roads for the last day or two I

focussed on the soggy woodlands today. These pools were alongside Exbury Road,

the verges of which also contained mushrooms – a rare sight this year.

Given the leaden nature of the skies we were surprised to catch

sunset over Beaulieu Heath on our way home. The third image is Jackie’s.

This evening we all dined on The Culinary Queen’s tasty penne Bolognese with which she drank Zesty and I drank Riserva Privada Chilean Malbec 2022.

Fire And Flood

Once again coinciding with a drop in outside temperature our boiler ceased functioning yesterday. We have a service booked for Thursday, 19th. and will manage until then.

With no Christmas decorations now wishing to remain undisturbed all round the fireplace and mantelpiece, we decided to light

the open fire in the sitting room.

We therefore drove to Streets in Brockenhurst to purchase coal, logs, firelighters, and two hot water bottles.

After a long spell of overnight rain there is normally a narrow puddle in the gutter outside our front entrance. Today this almost reached the middle of Christchurch Road and a long way down it.

As we watched other vehicles sailing past, and dodged their spray while waiting for a gap for us to enter the road and turn right, little did we know how much further flooding we would encounter.

The rest of the A337 stimulated spray waves at numerous locations.

For the first time in our decade here, the ford at Brockenhust was closed to traffic, the stream presumably being too deep for safety.

The lawn beside Meerut Road had become a reflective lake;

as had Balmer Lawn because its stretch of Highland Water

had burst both banks, its fast-moving currents sending squirming logs on their way until caught by other obstacles.

This evening we dined on barbecue spare ribs with Jackie’s flavoursome savoury rice. I drank more of the Syrah. The others didn’t.

Hung Out To Dry

Early this morning Jackie stocked up with provisions at Ferndene Farm Shop while I sat in the car, then continued into the forest via

Beckley Common Road, which, like all lanes on this decidedly damp, drear, day bore reflecting pools along the verges,

and soggy autumn leaves there

and in the bordering woodland, where someone had hung

a pair of toys out to dry.

Equally damp were the ponies foraging alongside Forest Road.

Distant landscapes, as, for example, visible from Wilverley Road, were distinctly hazy.

Martin and his younger son, Arlo, visited briefly at lunchtime to deliver a Christmas card with a warm message, and beverages for Jackie and for me selected from information gleaned on this blog.

This evening we dined on more of Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent fare with which I drank Gran Selone Italian red wine.

A Deserted Beach

I have been struggling against a heavy cold for three days. It was not until after lunch today that my coughing, spluttering, sneezing, and leaking nose had dried, and my dull head cleared adequately for me to accept the offered forest drive from Jackie. Yesterday I had declined.

It was therefore a shock to step out just after lunch into a gloomy day with a temperature just two degrees above freezing. Winter had crept up.

Although it is Sunday, there was very little sign of life.

The seasonal roadside pools, reflecting overhead branches, like these at East Boldre, are all now replenished; autumn leaves floating on their surfaces and scattered over the sward.

The narrow, winding, Tanners Lane with its ancient hedgerows exposing banked roots is, in warmer weather, popular enough for us to avoid the difficulty of finding a safe parking spot without slipping into a ditch.

The owners of this field have ensured, by blocking the entrance, that it will not be used as such.

This was therefore the perfect day for us to enjoy unhindered access to the beach with its views of the Isle of Wight.

A line of shore birds searched for food along the shallows of the tidal Lymington River.

This evening’s dinner consisted of Jackie’s spicy chilli con carne and rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I started another bottle of the Gran Selone before settling down to watch the World Cup football match between England and Senegal.

Oak Leaves Swept Along

This morning Becky drove Dillon and his family to Heathrow to see him safely off to America for the next month. All went smoothly and the ladies returned with Ellie early this evening.

After lunch, Jackie took me on a forest drive.

Ponies stood out in a distant hazy landscape on yet another shirt-sleeves mild afternoon.

At Puttles Bridge I passed a pile of sawn limbs from a recently fallen tree,

and followed a family of cyclists approaching the bridge.


Rippling, fast running, Ober Water had filled somewhat since our last visit.

Oak leaves gathered among exposed tree roots and swept along a surface clear enough to see the river bed.

Just one cluster of mushrooms was visible.

The dried pool beside South Weirs Telephone Box was reappearing, and had tempted ponies to come for their lunch

alongside neighbouring houses.

This evening we all dined on succulent roast chicken; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; firm carrots, cauliflower and broccoli, with meaty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Santa Julia, Reserve, 2020.