reflections – Page 29 – derrickjknight

Fire In The Sky

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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.

Save Our Stream

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Feeling considerably brighter today, I began by tackling two weeks administration. This involved settling bills, correspondence, and collecting a delivery that required a signature.

Jackie drove us to Lymington to retrieve the package from the sorting office. Almost across the other side of the High Street is situated Peacock Computer Systems where we took my HP laptop for a diagnosis. The charger has been plugged in but the device doesn’t charge up. The diagnosis is that it needs a battery transplant and is on the waiting list for a replacement.

After this we travelled back to Old Milton where we purchased a new dehumidifier to replace the old one which was crying in pain. It seemed sensible to detach it from its power source and buy an new one. We found one in The Home Appliance Centre, took it home, and went on a drive round the forest, where,

the sun-streaked tarmac came hurtling towards us as Jackie drove between the trees.

There are many streams in the forest. The one that demanded my attention today was at Furze Hill near Fordingbridge.

The dappled sunlight increased its beauty;

the clear blue sky rippled in the breeze-stirred shallows;

the browns of pebbles and bed of the stream discoloured the impression of the clear water above them,

blending with reflections of sky and greenery to produce pleasing abstract paintings.

We have had such a dry year that the water was quite shallow,

yet the scene was quite magical.

Sometimes serendipity plays a part in a blog post. So it was today. I had not realised the significance of this one of all the streams in the forest, until, further along the road, we came across this sign:

Naturally I had to investigate. A barking dog alerted the people who lived behind the poster to my presence. There ensued a conversation about a five year battle by http://friendsoflatchmore.org to prevent the filling in of a large stretch of land above Latchmore Brook. Apparently this will change the course of the water and cover an important archeological site. Otters which frequent the local stream will, it is believed, be driven away by pollution.

The views of these who wish to carry out the infill may be found at http://www.hlsnewforest.org.uk/info/100/latchmore

We drove on to Latchmore and eventually lunched at the Hyde-Out cafe at Hyde, before a gentle trundle home. Many people were eating outside. At one point, a little boy aged about six made an impressive entrance and demanded: “Where’s the cake?”.

Before dinner, despite the paucity of clouds, we drove down to Barton on Sea to admire the pastel shades of the skyline at sunset.

The moon and walkers aided this composition.

We then dined on fish fingers, chips, and baked beans, followed by ice cream. Good nursery convalescence food.

A Garden Of Delights

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Watching the suspended petal of a Japanese anemone this morning set me musing. First I considered the strength of the thread that grasped it. As the flower part spun and twisted in the breeze, its captor clung on, just as it would with a fly’s frantically thrashing death throes.

On a more musical note, my head recalled the rhythmic tones of chirpy Chubby Checker from 1960:

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHGXwQeUk7M&w=560&h=315]

This afternoon we went on an outing to Stratford Tony Manor House garden which was open under the National Gardens Scheme. It was my idea of a delightful garden.

There was space for large lawned areas, many trees, a stream, and a lake.

The large borders, especially those planted against walls, were really rather splendid,

and admired by many,

including Jackie.

There were a number of interesting sculptures.

The story behind those of three girls sheltering among cyclamen under a weeping willow is rather endearing. Made some twenty years ago, they are the daughters of the family. The eldest, now brings her own child to visit the family home. This scene, reminiscent of Enid Blyton characters from an earlier time, has been brought into the 21st century with the subtle placement of a mobile phone. The standing child once had a tennis ball placed with equal whimsy, but the dog kept taking it.

Two apparent sculptures were in fact fossilised stumps with polished tops.

A more modern garden ornament features in this photograph of a photographer and her subjects. We had a delightful conversation about this, and I gave them details of this blog.

The next picture I made of them will be a surprise to them. (I hope you like it, folks).

Some quite large groups of visitors wandered around, negotiating the sometimes steep slopes,

leading to the tea terrace where a very busy team of helpers kept us all supplied.

On each table was placed one or two very tastefully arranged vases of flowers.

There were suitably placed bridges over the still lake;

visitors enjoyed crossing them,

or just contemplating the tranquil scene,

the tempting water,

and the swans.

The nicely rusting iron gate to the kitchen garden contrasted with the green grass behind it, revealed by suitable excised symbols.

At a short distance from Stratford Tony, an army helicopter chugged over crows in a recently harvested field

now draped with striped curtains.

Back at home, Mr Chatty Man Chan of Hordle Chinese Take Away provided our evening meal with which Jackie drank sparkling water and I drank more of the Kekfrankos.

Sticklebacks

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A brief window of sunshine emerged in an otherwise wet and dull day, to enable me to cut the grass, do some dead-heading, and repel bramble invaders on the back drive.

Otherwise I scanned a batch of colour slides from a trip to Richmond Park in May 1981.

Jessica, Sam,

Matthew,

and Becky were my companions.

It was the season of Aquilegias

and Azaleas.

When Matthew and Becky began fishing for sticklebacks in the lake, I walked around to the far side to see what I could do with my long lens.

Gradually, a certain amount of interest was aroused.

Jessica, Sam, and Piper, the dog, soon became involved.

Hello; who’s that behind Sam?

The people in the background were more interested in the shrubbery,

but soon there was quite a crowd of spectators,

who slowly drifted away.

This evening’s dinner consisted of Jackie’s classic chicken jalfrezi with vegetable rice salad. She drank her Hoegaarden/Bavaria mix and I drank Royale Pays’ d’Oc Merlot 2014.

‘We’re On Holiday’

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Jackie has planted one or two roses on the back drive. Given that they cost £1.49 each at Poundstretcher this one is inappropriately named ‘Dearest’ yet it has surprised us with its powerful, yet delicate, scent.

After a sniff round the garden, my Lady drove me on a circuitous route to Hatchet Pond and back.

Glimpsing a large reflective pool through trees at the bottom of Pilley Hill, I asked to be disembarked in order to investigate.

This was the larger building turned upside down;

and this another.

Cattle obligingly clambered down to the pool to drink.

They, too, were reflected.

Around the next bend ponies and their foals were keeping residents’ grass in order.

At Hatchet Pond we found that the cygnets are growing up,

but remain uncertain what to do with their legs.

There were many visitors to the water on this, the hottest day of the year so far.

Swans, gulls, and ducks, of course, live there.

Cattle drank and bathed.

I was not the only photographer.

Two brothers and their elegant little sister were also enjoying a paddle.

The father and boys played ducks and drakes, and were joined by mother and daughter with whom I had been chatting.

The delightful little girl announced that they were on holiday.

On the far side of the pond a donkey and her foal were snuggling among the shrubs,

and grazing ponies flanked an appropriate warning sign.

Incidentally I have often been asked about ownership of the forest’s free-roaming animals. Although they are free to roam they are owned by commoners with grazing rights. This explains the collars and tags usually seen around necks, or, in the case of cattle, pinned on their ears.

Much watering of plants was required this afternoon.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious sausage casserole, creamy mashed potato and swede, and perfect runner beans. This was followed by Tesco’s sublime strawberry trifle which we would have eaten with Jessie and Guru on Saturday had I not somewhat redistributed its constituents by dropping it (with its lid on) on the floor. Jackie drank her Hoegaarden and Bavaria mix, while I drank Gilbert & Gaillard Les 3 Couronnes Côtes du Rhône 2014

Donkey Care

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Margery and Paul visited and lunched with us today. Jackie continued her usual garden maintenance before and after our friends were with us. When they arrived, I was doing some dead-heading in the front garden. For some strange reason Paul thought this was to give the impression that I had been working at the task for rather longer than was likely.

After Paul and Margery had taken a tour of the garden we sat down to lunch and enjoyed the usual convivial time with them. Just as they were leaving, my camera arrived.

Please understand that what follows was truly hilarious and I surprised a number of people with my laughter. Goodness knows why, but I was genuinely amused. Firstly, I had to charge the battery. This was not unexpected, and I could see how to do it. That was fortunate because there was no instruction manual. Again, no real problem because I found one on the internet and downloaded it.

There was also no memory card. I rang Camera Jungle whose representative told me they didn’t stock memory cards. They did once, but they don’t any more. He told me what type I needed but said there was a whole range. He advised me to contact Jessops to buy one. He didn’t know the phone number but would look for it. I asked if it was the one I had been given yesterday. It was. He was off the hook because I still had it.

I phoned Jessops and waited an age to be transferred to the sales department. There a very helpful young lady said that she could take the order but wasn’t technically trained. She was instructed to give me the number of my nearest store who would tell me what I needed. I could then ring the sales department again and place the order. I had explained that I was a long way from Southampton where I believed was my nearest store. She told me it was in Waterlooville which is in fact rather further away. No matter, any phone number would have done.

I kid you not. By this time I could hardly speak for chortling.

I rang Waterlooville, shared another bout of merriment, obtained the required information, and called the sales department again. Naturally I was answered by a different person this time. He quite liked the story, too. I placed the order.

You have to laugh, don’t you? (If you don’t I’ve wasted my time writing this up).

Unbeknown to me, Jackie had planned to take me on a forest drive with my new camera. Even if I had all I needed this would not have been possible. It is likely that I would have read all the books in my library before I got my head around the 220 pages in the manual.

In the meantime she took me out with my point and shoot. She was herself rewarded when, just outside Ibsley, we passed Heather Cottage, the garden of which had her shrieking with delight.

It was a quintessentially English cottage garden. Note the thatcher’s pheasant on the roof.

Further on in the village, a friendly jogger opted to cross the road in order to avoid the ponies and their fascinating, to one, droppings.

A stream at Gorley reflected the neighbouring trees.

It was only after I further examined the row of donkeys waiting to enter Hyde Primary School that I realised one was more aroused than was immediately apparent.

On the village green mares were tending their foals. Two youngsters were asleep on the grass. I disturbed one which began to whimper

and was soon latched onto its mother, thus disturbing her own contented grazing.

Another mare gave her offspring a tender nuzzle.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s pork fillet baked in mustard with new potatoes and crisp carrots and green beans. She drank her Hoegaarden/Bavaria mix, and I drank more of the Madiran.

Reflections On Art

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I don’t normally plan ahead for my blog posts, preferring to take what comes in the day. I did, however, wake up in the night with an idea which I put into practice today.

Jackie drove me to New Milton for the Waterloo train for me to have lunch with Norman, and collected me from Brockenhurst afterwards.

On my now familiar walk from the London Station, I passed Llewellyn Alexander (Fine Paintings) Ltd London Art Gallery on the corner of Cornwall Road and The Cut. Behind well guarded windows, paintings and ceramics are on display. I have often noticed that, criss crossed by its protective metal grill, the glass reflects the world going by, and in my sleepy state I had dreamed up the idea of a project. It was a dull day, but I thought I’d have a go.

As can be seen by those capable of reading mirror writing, this first photograph was taken from Cornwall Road. There were no big red buses in the shop.

Around the corner, in The Cut, a woman carrying an orange bag approached me. Suddenly, abruptly, she paused, and turned towards the window;

stopped to study a painting for a while;

then walked on.

These reflections give an indication of what is currently being performed at The Old Vic opposite;

and offer the opportunity for a double take.

Norman and I enjoyed a meal at Tas restaurant in The Cut. My choice was a fish casserole and mushroom rice followed by baklava. We shared a bottle of the excellent house red wine, and finished with coffee, mine being Turkish without the sugar. We then walked back to Waterloo together.

I stopped again at Llewellyn Alexander’s because the light was now so much better. Norman walked on and I caught him up, after I had taken a few more shots;

including one showing him using his stick.

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.

Lymington’s National Hero

This morning we drove to The First Gallery with the last of the prints for the exhibition,

and Jackie’s donation of labelled seedlings,

with which she has included explanatory notes.

On our journey via Beaulieu, cattle basked by the roadside at East Boldre.

Margery and Paul’s reception rooms resembled a frame-maker’s workshop, which, indeed they are at the moment. We are assured all will come right on the night. I commented that there was more work going into the mounting of my pictures than in the printing of them. Paul does make exceedingly good frames.

On our return trip, the cattle had been replaced by donkeys, but we had already seen some by the river at Beaulieu, playing host to parasitic jackdaws. It is very difficult to find somewhere to Park in Beaulieu, so, by the time we did so, the birds that had been fiercely stabbing the hides of the unflinching drowsy asses on which they were perched,

had moved off by the time I had walked back to the scene.

We have often wondered at the obelisk that we have noticed when walking down Lymington High Street,

therefore passing Monument Lane on the approach to this small town, we decided to investigate. There was barely any passing space along this muddy track which led us to:

Clicking on the images above and below

will provide enlarged information giving the story of

the monument.

The notice board explains the railing stumps around the obelisk. These are the residue of iron that was commandeered for World War 2 armaments. Buildings, including residential homes, throughout their lands lost their railings, never to be replaced. It is highly debatable how much of this material was ever actually used for the war effort.

Unsown trees have now grown to fill what was once open parkland,

and muddy, reflective, pools now surround its mound.

This evening we dined on roast duck, mashed potatoes, carrots, and Brussels sprouts followed by treacle tart and cream. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the madiran.