Tag: ripples

A Tiresome Task

Yesterday I experienced a muzzy-headed relapse – enough for me to turn down a trip to the forest for the first time ever. This morning we made up for it.

The mournful expressions of the dogs in the back of the SKODA trailing a pair of led horses bore evidence to our slow progress along Hordle Lane.

Our next hold up provided a lengthier photo opportunity in the form of the

four way traffic control on the A35 at Holmsley. There was ample time to study the different streams of vehicles as they were permitted to approach us while we sat at the red light. As previously reported the completion of the bridge refurbishment scheme has been delayed, but at least this narrow thoroughfare has been opened.

Further along our progress was hindered by Highway Maintenance work clearly designed ton keep heavy lorries off the gravelled lay-bys. Filling the holes that they churn up is very soon necessary, so there seems to be a comparatively new policy of blocking access with rows of posts.

As we continued along the forest roads I photographed some of the ancient hedgerows and fenced woodland, eventually turning my attention to

horses in the landscapes to our right. Jackie didn’t miss the opportunity to catch me on the job.

Thirsty ponies drank at the winter pool on Forest Road. The amount of yawning that was displayed suggested this was perhaps a tiresome task. A group of young cyclists became quite excited at the sight. The last four of the photographs in this gallery are by Jackie. Please don’t miss the reflection of the extended tongue in the second of these images.

This evening we dined on second helpings of Jackie’s choice chicken and vegetable stewp with which I drank Barossa Valley Shiraz 2017

Definitely Spring

On this warm and sunny day Jackie unwrapped the wooden patio chairs and

we set them in place;

Flo continued her work in the garden, clearing twigs and leaves of cordyline

Australis and setting about burning them;

I wandered around with a camera.

Jackie and I took a forest drive after lunch while the others dealt with banking.

I photographed wild woodland daffodils along the banks of the rippling, reflecting Lin Brook, where bent a broken tree trunk.

We continued along Highwood Road, with shadows

falling across last autumn’s fallen leaves and the trunks of trees.

A field horse churned up a mud bath and splashed around in it before joining

its companions in a run,

while others grazed in a field opposite.

A drift of daffodils enhanced a neighbouring piece of land.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome chicken and vegetable stewp, with which she, Becky, and Ian drank Portuguese Rosé, while I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2019.

Alfresco Dining

Much of this sunny morning was spent reminiscing with Becky.

Jackie and I lunched at our normal time. We then joined the others for theirs at The Beachcomber Café, Barton on Sea.

Flo took this photograph on the approach to the café.

Jackie and I enjoyed drinks while the others were impressed with the quality of the food served. Because the albeit extensive establishment was so full we had to dine alfresco and wait in line for that. The service of this family-run business was nevertheless friendly and efficient. As can be seen, Ian occupied himself with Sudokus, while Becky and Flo conversed happily. The final picture in this gallery is our granddaughter’s.

She also photographed me reacting to the apparent seizing up of my shutter while I was trying to capture

shadows of other diners. Fortunately the problem was resolved before they departed.

When we had finished at Beachcomber the others drove back to the house while Jackie and I continued into the forest. Foraging ponies grazed on the soggy turf or tore at hollies on Honey Lane.

The ford across Forest Road flowed faster than we have seen it before.

This mossy bank beside it looked decidedly damp.

Just outside Burley a bay pony also dined alfresco on the contents of a garden refuse sack.

For this evening’s meal Jackie produced roast lamb; sage and onion stuffing; Jersey Royal boiled potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts; tender runner beans, and meaty gravy, with which she, Becky and Ian drank Portuguese Rosé, Flo drank Apple and Mango juice, and I drank more of the Monastrell.

Chasing Her Stick

This morning I published https://derrickjknight.com/2022/01/28/a-knights-tale-96-kings-lynn/

During mid afternoon we took a forest drive to Puttles Bridge and back.

Several groups of walkers set out on the flat and reasonably dry trail through the woodland, while I chose

the wetter area alongside Ober Water, with its ripples, reflections, mossy stumps and gnarly roots.

It was there I met Steve and Fizzy, his twelve year old companion with the spring of a puppy who never tired of chasing and returning her thrown stick. We had an enjoyable conversation.

The sun was weakening as we returned home via Brockenhurst where ponies cropped the soggy verges.

What, I wondered, had chewed the lichen-covered log lying in a Winterbourne stream.

This evening we dined on duck in orange sauce, soft centred and crispy coated; crunchy carrots; boiled baby potatoes; tender runner beans and cabbage, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.

Focus On The Windscreen

Nick Hayter visited this morning to assess the post-refurbishment decorating work he is to undertake. We enjoyed his usual pleasant conversation.

The unconsolable skies shed continuous profuse tears throughout the afternoon, which we began with a trip to the Lymington Post Office collection office to claim a parcel undelivered because of a shortage of £2 in postage. The good news was that there was no queue. The bad news was that the office was closed. I took an alternative option which was to stick the extra postage on the back of their card and post it back to them.

We then drove into the forest to make

a record picture of the lake at Pilley which is avidly collecting more liquid sustenance. I chose not to walk round to the other side for that view since I was already feeling a drip.

While waiting for a train at the Lymington level crossing I had plenty of time to focus on the windscreen.

Perhaps it is the intensity; perhaps the consistently fast pace; perhaps the comparative shortness; perhaps the bloodthirstiness of the historical context of Charles Dickens’s ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ that renders it apparently the most widely read of the master’s novels, in which there is no room for his customary dry wit, and little for his comic turns.

Later this afternoon I finished reading the work which becomes impossible to put down; and scanned the last four of Charles Keeping’s perfectly matched illustrations to my Folio Society 1985 edition.

‘ ‘Hope has quite departed from my breast’ ‘

‘He spoke with a helpless look straying all around’

‘Miss Pross seized her round the waist and held her tight’

‘She kisses his lips; he kisses hers’

This evening we dined on double egg and chips with sausages and baked beans, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Comté Tolosan Rouge.

The Donkeys Didn’t Fancy It

After lunch Jackie drove us to Helen and Bill’s home at Fordingbridge to drop off a present.

Attracted by a couple of large mushrooms on the verges at I disembarked and wandered along photographing, in addition, bracken nestling beside an oak trunk, and lichen attached to fallen twigs on the forest floor and decorating another trunk.

The forded stream was racing and rippling along at a rate we have not seen before.

Cars sped splashing across;

a troop of donkeys gathered on the edge of the road-bridge, contemplated the torrent, then, deciding they didn’t fancy it, leaving one of their members with its foal to slake their thirst, turned back and

lined themselves neatly along the shrubbery for Jackie to photograph them through her windscreen and after stepping out of the car.

We returned via Woodgreen where I photographed the landscape around the River Avon, its swans and mallards, and cattle lolling alongside.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s warming winter meat and vegetable stewp, with fresh crusty bread. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cotes du Rhone.

My Little Snipper

Today was one allegedly expected to enjoy intermittent sunshine. In reality this was more intermittent than sunshine.

We were conned by a bright start into taking an early drive to Puttles Bridge. In the event this was definitely intermittent.

Three-way traffic lights control gave me plenty of time to contemplate the verges on the side of the A337.

Watching a foal trot purposely across the low-flowering sward at the corner of Rhinefield and Meerut Roads at Brockenhurst I was surprised to see it latch onto a mare of rather different colouring. Equine genes in our neighbourhood seem to follow quite random routes.

P.S. I have received this very useful information from our good friend Carole: ‘Hi Derrick – couldn’t resist a little further equine info – ref your blog! In your pic, the foal is a pale chestnutty colour suckling from a slate grey coloured mother. Baby will end up grey too, and the older the adult, the whiter they gradually become. So you get the lovely dapple grey  look at around the age of 8-9 years old, gradually fading. I had 2 Arab horses. The first was born bay (brown body, black mane & tail) & the second was born chestnut (tail same colour as body more or less). In both instances Mum was grey. Both babies became grey as they grew to be 2-3 years old. Very dark grey at first, the bay baby had a slate grey mane & tail even when her body colour got paler & the chestnut foal had a white mane & tail as an adult. So not surprising you were surprised! Glad you had a good birthday! Xx’

She followed this with: ‘Three photos of my Tammy – as a foal, a young adult and a 10!year old – starts a chestnut, becomes dappled, ends up white xx’

The terrain alongside the shallow, clear, yet treacly, bubbling burbling, rippling, fast flowing, Ober Water was mostly fairly soggy and gathering reflecting pools, although beside the well-drained banks exposed lacy-veined roots writhed around water-eroded soil.

Aided by the recent winds, rose Doris Tysterman has stretched herself across the drive. Later this afternoon we righted her and tied her to one of our old stumps. I dug out three brambles while we were at it.

The pocket dead heading tool Shelly gave me yesterday came in handy. There are many more examples of this piece of equipment on Google.

This evening we dined on spicy Thai fish cakes garnished with onion rings; piquant cauliflower cheese; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; and tender runner beans, with which Jackie finished the Rosé d’Anjou and I started the very smooth Signargues Cotes du Rhone Villages 2020, which Shelly had also brought yesterday.

Rippling Reflections

Dark, brooding, precipitating skies were occasionally brightened today by suddenly, briefly, escaping sunshine. The opposite was also true, on the trip we took into a waterlogged forest after purchasing three bags of compost at Ferndene Farm Shop.

I left the car when Jackie parked on the verge of the Thorney Hill end of Burley Road. My intention was to take a shot from the top of the hill of the waterlogged landscape stretching out below. A pair of siren mallards called me from a winterbourne lake some way down. Before I reached them the ducks had disappeared; dark indigo clouds loured overhead; pattering raindrops washed my hair; my woollen jacket took on the aroma of wet sheep; and I craved automatic wipers for my blurry specs.

As Magnus Magnusson on TV’s ‘Mastermind’ would have said, I thought, “I’ve started so I’ll finish”. I was wet, anyway. I failed to photograph the downhill expanse, but

I did capture raindrops sending ripples over the surface of the downhill running streams and the reflective pools that had been created by the recent days’ and last night’s storms. The forest fauna, more sensible than I, kept well under cover somewhere.

This afternoon Jackie planted a vast number of seedlings into nursery pots in the greenhouse and together we carried the

rusted Ace Reclaim bench to the concrete patio where it will provide a platform for larger planters.

This evening we dined on tangy lemon chicken; moist chilli-spiced ratatouille; tender green beans; and boiled new potatoes, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Recital.

Wild Flower Verges

Mum is recovering from a throat infection for which she has been treated with antibiotics.

On our visit this morning she demonstrated the site of her discomfort and explained that she had refused to stay in bed in favour of sitting in her chair to get herself moving.

This afternoon we took a drive into the forest.

The sight of ponies exercising their ancient pasturage privileges in view of Fawley Refinery from Exbury Road prompted reflection on past and present juxtaposition..

Nearby, different reflections remain temporarily possible in a rapidly drying rippling pool. Long shadows were cast across both expanding borders and diminishing water levels.

Most of our verges, like these alongside Lepe Road, carry swathes of bluebells, celandines, primroses, and daffodils.

Jackie parked overlooking Lepe while I photographed

yachts passing the Isle of Wight coastal buildings including a string of beach huts; a motorised dinghy on its way over there;

a window in the wall of The Watch House; bright blue grape hyacinths beside the road;

and a family walking with a dog.

This evening we dined on our customary second helpings of yesterday’s Chinese fare which is still good. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Mendoza Trivento Reserve Malbec 2019.

Further Along Forest Road

Today there was still a chill in the air, which became more overcast with sunny periods as it went on.

After lunch we drove into the forest. As so often on a dull day we thought we may not find much of photographic interest, until the sun and

our little group of equine friends found beside the stream at the junction of Chapel Lane and Forest Road took pity on us.

The rippling stream bore reflections;

The trees through which the assorted ponies could be viewed bore moss and lichen;

the ground underfoot bore celandines, dandelions, violets, and daisies.

More reflections and water crowfoot (buttercups) adorned the pool further along Forest Road, beyond which

I gazed across the layered landscape.

This evening we enjoyed breaded mushrooms with Jackie’s hot and spicy pasta arrabbiata and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I partook of Mendoza El Tesoro Red Blend 2019.