Tag: pools

Sunny Intervals

Early in the day I watched Channel 4’s transmission of the enthralling second day’s play in the Test Match between India and England.

The forest was still overcast when, this afternoon, we set off for a drive.

Lanes like Bockhampton Road were quite clarty. Beside this one

a whiteness of swans occupying a field attracted my attention as, their serpentine necks sinuously swaying, they foraged in the grass and reflected in one small pool.

The next pale reflector paddled in weed soup in a seasonal pool during a sunny interval at Ibsley. When she became aware of my circling her spot, she emerged from the water and joined

her cousins on the green. I exchanged greetings with the dog walkers as they drew near.

Glowing golden gorse enlivened the landscape below Abbots Well. The second of these images containing another dog walker employing an extending lead shows the difference in light created by a sunny interval. Only the distant slopes are lit; those nearer are overshadowed by cloud.

This evening we dined on tasty smoked haddock; piquant cauliflower cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots and broccoli, with which we both drank Western Cape Sauvignon Blanc 2020.

Along The Lanes

The third Test Match between India and England finished very early on this, the second, day, giving me the opportunity to stop watching Channel 4 and for Jackie to take me on a forest drive after purchasing primulas and violas from Ferndene Farm Shop.

She parked on an un-waterlogged section of the verges while I walked olong photographing

still naked oak branches against the sky;

swathes of snowdrops in the woodland, wet enough to harbour

reflective pools; as did the

soggy verges.

Fallen trees among the snowdrops bore moss, holly, and ivy leaves.

I returned to the car and we continued to Anna Lane,

on one side of which two New Forest ponies were penned in a field, perhaps for someone to train for riding;

and on the other side sprawled a lengthy pig farm.

Finally, a splendidly sculptural oak stump stands at a bend on Bennet’s Lane.

This evening we dined on well roasted chicken thighs, crisp roast potatoes, parsnips, Yorkshire puddings, and sage and onion stuffing; flavoursome Brussels sprouts and carrots, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Shiraz. Bakewell tart and vanilla ice cream was to follow,

Cutting Out The Middle Man?

Early this morning, Jackie photographed the first welcoming dawn we have experienced for a while.

The sunshine lived up to its promise as I wandered around photographing clumps of cheerful snowdrops; bunches of daffodils including tete-a-tetes; bright cyclamen; a variety of abundant hellebores which retained raindrops; and prolific shrubs such as camellias and viburnum. To make room for these images I have begun thinning out some 35,000 photographs in my Mac photo collection.

While I was enjoying myself drafting this post Jackie worked to unblock the shower drain. This afternoon we visited Streets in Brockenhurst to buy cleaning materials, and returned by a slightly circuitous route.

Much of the forest, like this area near Woodfidley, is still waterlogged. Reflective pools bear fallen trees. Still-standing oaks dip mossy toes into clear, still, surface water.

We stopped again at East End to photograph a pony busy trimming a prickly hedge.

Across the road two somewhat battle-scarred bays stood beside East Boldre allotments land. A notice informed visitors that the ponies inside were meant to be there and asked that they should not be fed. Was this, I wondered, a method of cutting out the compost middle man?

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie served with tasty gravy; flavoursome broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and carrots. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Barossa Valley Shiraz 2017.

“So I Could Get A Photograph Like That”

By lunchtime today I had passed six more of Charles Keeping’s characteristic illustrations on my visit to ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’.

‘Quilp’s Wharf’ is an accurate depiction of such Thames-side area of the period.

‘Richard Swiveller’s companion addressed him with great energy and earnestness of manner’ as we can see.

‘Here, then he sat, his ugly features twisted into a complacent grimace. I once encountered a man who adopted exactly the same position.

‘Before Mr Brass had completed his enquiry, Mr Quilp emerged from the same door’. We certainly recognise Mr Keeping’s portrait by now.

‘A shower of buffets rained upon his person’. as so well presented by the artist.

‘The mean houses told of the populous poverty that sheltered there’. Note the residents in the background, and the dog.

Early this afternoon we drove to Puttles Bridge car park where Jackie waited for me to wander along Ober Water.

In fact the following gallery will show why I decided the bridge was as far as I could go. I was incidentally half way across when these ladies approached. I speeded up so I could step aside for them.

They stepped off the path for me, and we exchanged friendly greetings as I turned my back on them so they could pass.

I hadn’t stayed long, so we drove around a bit more. Many of the

Lanes, like Cadnam, where I disembarked and watched Jackie making waves, were also waterlogged. Because she had two other vehicles in her wake she drove on, since our rule is that that is what she will do in the circumstances and either I will catch up or she will come back for me.

In these particular circumstances I was left pondering the fact that I wouldn’t be able to walk on water. when along came a joyful little boy whose wheels would spray nicely. He was followed by his mother with a pillion passenger. I explained my predicament just as the little lad set off. My voice became shriller as I finished my sentence with “so that I could get a picture like that” as I grabbed the shot, rivalling my subject in joy.

This evening we dined on our second sitting of Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent dishes with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Dao.

Out In Force Today

Jackie cut my hair this morning.

She grabbed my Covid locks

and trimmed them down to size.

And here was I wishing to turn the clock back.

Contrary to expectations today, albeit several degrees cooler, was, from midday, bright and sunny.

We drove to Otter Nurseries to buy some primroses, including a pot for Elizabeth, which we took to her with a pair of gardening gloves. After a lengthy socially distanced pleasant conversation in her garden we took off for a drive.

A patch of green on Pilley Street generally fills with fresh, reflective, rainwater after the amount of rain we are currently experiencing.

Today a pair of ponies slaked their thirst thereon.

Kewlake Lane is one of those in the forest where local people have lined the verges with large stumps to deter visitors from parking on them. One mossy specimen, reflected in a pool, had been in use for quite some time. We looked down on a fairly orderly sun-streaked landscape.

Along Furzley Lane we encountered more basking ponies and one solitary donkey. The shaggy coated equines were out in force today.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s substantial, flavoursome, chicken and vegetable stewp, with tangy Welsh rarebit, and fresh French bread. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Garnacha.

Much Neighing In The Woodland

This morning I watched the Channel 4 broadcast of the third day’s play of the second Test match between India and England in Chennai.

Today the temperature was a little warmer than of late; the weather just as gloomy yet less wet. After lunch we took a drive into the forest.

A pair of equestriennes wended their way along a pony track bordering Holmsley Passage.

At the crossroads leading the Passage to Bisterne Close, I clambered with camera among woodland with it’s bright, mossy, roots; lichen-coated branches; reflective pools and puddles on the tarmac.

There was much neighing from ponies on the move in the claggy woodland alongside the Close

which bears its own reflecting winterbourne pool.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome chicken tikka, plain parathas, and plentiful fresh salad, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Agramont Garnacha 2019, a smooth red wine.

Damp

On a decidedly dank morning we took a damp drive to Ferndene Farm Shop via Otter and Everton Garden Centres. We didn’t find what we were looking for in the garden centres, but the Ferndene shop was well stocked and not crowded.

We returned home via Holmsley and Forest Road.

Although there were a number of walkers on Forest Road,

where Jackie parked the Modus while I wandered woodland with my camera,

just three sheltering ponies beside Burley Golf Course seemed to be only ponies we would see.

I squelched across the muddy terrain

with its fresh, reflecting, pools;

bright green moss- and lighter coloured lichen-covered woodland, smelling of delicious damp.

It must have been a long-necked creature that nibbled this zipper up a slender trunk;

possibly a relative of this pony that emerged from the forest and crossed the road in front of as we moved off. Naturally I had to disembark once more and pay my respects.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome savoury rice; a thick omelette; and a rack of pork spare ribs marinaded in plum sauce, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Bonpas.

Preening Swans

Today the air was cold; the cotton-clouded cerulean skies bright and sunny.

After lunch we took a drive as far as Hatchet Moor and back, enabling me to tramp over the

burnt gorse Nash battlefield beside the lake.

Beaulieu Road is lined with pools surrounding the rooted feet of trees which are generally dry in summer.

Walkers with dogs sought dry land and children sought pools in which gleefully to splash.

Muddy tracks surrounded this extension of Hatchet Pond and its environs, paradise to

stately swans exploring the tufted grasses.

Here is Jackie’s take on the swans as they preened and investigated the tussocks.

She waved from her vantage point on the far side of the water, from which she also photographed fishermen in the battlefield and “Where’s Derrick?” (4).

On our return a shaggy grey pony blocked the entrance to Gaza Avenue in East Boldre, opposite which her equine cousins grazed.

One bay crossed the soggy reflective terrain and was immediately followed by a slightly more mottled specimen.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent beef and mushroom pie; creamy swede and potato mash; firm carrots, tender cabbage, and meaty gravy, with which she drank Hoegaarden and, having opened another bottle, I drank more of the Macon.

Soggy

Although the skies were to brighten later, when we drove into the forest this morning light flakes of fluffy snow had already evaporated to integrate with liquid precipitation.

Jackie parked the Modus at Crockford Clump and I squelched across

waterlogged moorland and clambered over undulating slopes the basins of which became their own

reflecting, rippling, reservoirs refilled by pattering raindrops dripping from twigs above into the otherwise silent streams below.

Lichen layered arboreal limbs lay shattered among soggy autumn leaves; a perky robin roamed from tree to tree.

A friendly woman walking her dogs told me about the snow and a herd of deer she had seen earlier. Paddy, one of her dogs, lolloped over to me in search of treats and took no for an answer.

Ponies occupied the tarmac at East Boldre whilst communing with a couple of field horses.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s lemon chicken and savoury rice with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cotes du Rhone.

My Carrots!

Despite the amount of Christmas preparation still to be done, the clear skies bright sunshine this morning following last night’s steady overnight rain demanded a forest outing, so we complied.

The rain left its mark on the lanes like Lower Sandy Down, and on much of the

terrain, like this on the reflecting green at Pilley, where somnolent ponies basked, casting long shadows, even on the approach to midday.

Mallards are quite at home on the filled lake alongside Jordans Lane.

Donkeys, as gentle as ever, snoozed along the verges of Bull Hill.

It was therefore something of a shock to see a vicious bully dominating a patch of green at Norley Wood by kicking and butting the rest of a group attempting to partake of carrots laid out for them all. Note the raised heels and the flattened ears signifying harmful intent. The stabbing feet were raised too suddenly and quickly for me to catch the legs at full right-angled stretch. The forlorn creature in the last image had me regretting I didn’t have one to give it, and I certainly wasn’t about to snaffle one of the bully’s who made it very clear that they were its sole property.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Recital.