On Tarmac And Moorland

This morning we worked on completing our preparation of guest bedrooms for reasons which will become clear tomorrow.

After lunch we took a forest drive.

Having seen a very large foal being suckled in a field on Jordans Lane I stepped out of the car and sank into autumn leaves in a dry ditch, by which time the ponies had and diverted their attention to me. I was then

distracted by raucous rooks cawing from above.

Further along the road donkeys in the process of shedding their winter coats wandered among the traffic or hugged the verges.

Cattle and ponies shared the moorland off Bull Hill.

Ponies dined by the roadside, spilling onto the tarmac of East Boldre;

walkers led by a dog carrying a branch approached from the distance;

while another equine tore at juicy grass piercing the surface of a puddle.

This evening we dined on pepperoni pizza, hot and spicy prawns, and fresh salad with which I finished the Bierzo.

Sharing

This morning we visited Ferndene Farm Shop to buy three large bags of compost and a couple of trays of pansies, after which we took a drive into the forest, where

my quiet communing with an inquisitive pony opposite the entrance to Ibsley Drove was disturbed by the clear voices of a couple of approaching cyclists, and

the sudden explosion of raucous cawing by nesting rooks taking to the skies.

I then proceeded to bend my back more than I thought possible in order to photograph the

constant toing and froing of the prospective new parents as I imagined the males kept the incubating females supplied with provender, and occasionally did sentry duty. It may be that there were hungry infants in the nests, but, even by craning my neck, I couldn’t tell.

Looking down across the landscape at Ogdens North beneath leaden skies

we espied a pair of be-rugged field horses sharing their paddock with a herd of deer, including a rare white one.

This evening we reprised yesterday’s roast pork dinner with more of the same beverages.

A Plethora Of Snowdrops

Before Jackie discovered that, for the first time in 15 years, we can now view Test Matches live on free to air terrestrial television I listened to the first day of the England v India match on BBC sport. I watched the last couple of overs on Channel 4.

This morning I took advantage of a break between showers to wander round the garden with my camera.

The irises reticulata are all now in bloom, with tulips beside them pushing up.

Other irises and numerous hellebores still collect raindrops.

Camellias are quite prolific.

Honesty seed pods now have a skeletal presence and the metal plant Louisa gave us for Christmas will live on for a while.

Some winter flowering clematis cirrhosa Freckles have survived their recent heavy pruning.

Wherever we go we encounter a plethora of snowdrops.

This afternoon we paid a brief visit to Barry and Karen to deliver his prints.

Afterwards we took a brief drive along the lanes, like Coombe Lane largely waterlogged.

Sunlight streamed across the landscapes, lit the lichen coated hedges, and silhouetted the bones of an oak tree.

A small shaggy haired pony eyed me as I photographed its more delicate be-rugged cousin.

Jackie photographed a pair of rooks – or were they crows? – conducting a corvine conversation.

Several donkeys were installed on Wooden House Lane.

The stream running under Church Lane reflected the trees above.

This evening we dined on the varied flavours of Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; smoked haddock; with carrots and petits pois for splashes of bright colour. We both drank Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc 2020.

Not Upside Down

Although less severe, today’s weather was as changeable as that of yesterday.

This morning we drove to Milford on Sea for a repeat prescription. There were more people on the road than there has been of late.

The car parks along the coast were still locked and empty but for this cyclist,

and a couple walking past.

The Needles Eye café has been closed since lockdown began. The louring skies did not deter a number of other pedestrians. The tall straggly cordeline to the right of the picture was receiving its customary battering from the blustery winds

sending wintry waves buffeting breakwaters and sending grating gravel skidding and sliding

along the coastline.

Milky spray churned into vast vats of the latte that is not currently available in the resort’s normal outlets.

Unperturbed by the constantly changing clouds

gulls frolicked silently overhead.

I became engaged in conversation with this couple walking their dogs. The woman helpfully told me how to recover from knee replacements. She had warmed up enough, despite the cool winds, to wrap her heavy coat around her waist.

As I returned to the Modus another couple left their car and followed their dog to the promenade.

Pale purple thrift and bright yellow buttercups carpet the banks of Park Lane and

drape the crumbling cliffs,

clinging to the edge of which rooks on recce perch for a while

before taking flight

or wandering purposefully among the grasses.

Given that we were out anyway we took a short diversion up to Wootton in search of a pony or two.

A small group wandering along the road turned

to converse with another in a field.

No doubt following the loner’s directions they made their way individually to the other side.

The grey lagged behind a bit.

One cyclist followed the bend at the junction

where another pair paused for a break.

On of the field horses seen on the hill sports a protective mask. This does not indicate that its owner has placed one for coronavirus upside down. It is to protect eyes and ears from invasive flies.

This evening we dined on choice roast chicken thighs; crisp roast potatoes, one type being sweet; plain boiled potatoes; crunchy carrots; tender green beans; a rich red cabbage, with meaty gravy. Jackie drank Heineken and, apart from the quantity I sloshed on my white linen shirt, I drank more of the red Cotes du Rhone.

The Reality

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This afternoon Jackie drove me out to Calshot and back.

Waiting in the queue at the Lymington level crossing gave me the opportunity to focus on one of the hanging baskets that adorn the lampposts of the town.

One of the cattle on the moor near Beaulieu Road Station suckled quite a large calf.

Ower Farm on Calshot Road is a splendid Georgian building.

On Calshot beach’s shingle, along which a gentleman led a colour coordinated little girl,

and beyond which yachts enhanced the seascape;

gulls basked, preened, and squawked and saw off a couple of crows. One of the sea birds homed in on an ice cream cone and hopped onto the wooded parapet.

The photograph above of Ower Farm is how an Estate Agent’s brochure may have presented it.

In reality it is hemmed in by Fawley Power station.

This evening the three of us dined on Jackie’s splendid lamb jalfrezi with savoury rice. Mrs Knight drank Hoegaarden, Elizabeth drank Becks Blue, and I finished the Saint-Chenian

Ever-Changing Skies

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Aaron of A.P. Maintenance has recently completed the last section of fencing, and reorganised the compost bins. Today, he and his nephew Rory took away some of the resultant rubbish. This photograph is one of the few that I was able to take today in sunshine and with a dry camera.

During the rest of the day I was in and out to the garden attempting a few photographs of plants enjoying the sunshine and the showers. Perhaps only the duck and the frog were really in their element. The rain bejewelled primulas, daffodils, camellias, clematis cirrhosa, hellebores, iris, pulmonaria, and faux poppy sat for me quite nicely.

By mid-afternoon I conceded victory to the wind which enforced such rapid changes in the skies that all this last batch of pictures were produced within minutes during which rain fell continuously. Clouds rolled rapidly across the Heavens, sometimes concealing, sometimes revealing the sun

throwing its glowing light on this holly trunk against a sludgy bank of cloud.

This evening we dined on minced beef pie, creamy mashed potato and swede, red cabbage, crunchy carrots, leeks, and onions. I finished the merlot.

A Clip Round The Ear

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Early this afternoon Jackie drove us off to the north of The Forest. Refraining from the opportunity to indulge in her customary giggle on passing Sandy Balls, she settled for a late lunch at The Fighting Cocks in Godshill.

The view from the pub across to the green always includes animals. Today we had a predominance of cattle, including one of the Highland breed.

The one pony in sight sheltered under a tree, surrounded by grubbing rooks.

My choice for lunch was a large Yorkshire pudding filled with the pubs own tasty home made sausages, creamy mashed potato, fresh peas and onion gravy. This made me think of my maternal grandmother, a Yorkshirewoman whose eponymous puddings were made in a large baking tin. I drank Doom Bar. Jackie enjoyed a baked potato containing cheese and beans, accompanied by a coke. The publican was very friendly and accommodating of a couple who had turned up for a meal after 3 p.m.

Donkeys had taken over the gardens and car park.

This engaged some of the customers.

The crouching girl showed sensible discretion as she rapidly rose to her her feet which led her legs away faster than the rest of her as she clutched an adult hand when the donkey paid her some attention.

Two other asses availed themselves of wooden posts for a good scratch

then set off down the road in search of some traffic to disrupt.

The skilful mural decorating one of the inside walls of the hostelry obviated the need for me to photograph the building.

This is the time of year when, if you are quick, you will see sounders of swine as they speed through the forest, snuffling, foraging, grunting and squealing in search of mast, or acorns and other fruit of the trees.. The first group of these had vanished by the time I emerged from the car. This is an extract from the New Forest website:

“PIGS IN THE NEW FOREST (PANNAGE)

Pannage is the practice of releasing domestic pigs into a forest (also known as ‘Common of mast’), and goes all the way back to the time of William the Conqueror, who founded the New Forest. Pannage is no longer carried out in many areas but can still be observed every year here in the New Forest National Park. In the Autumn after the acorns, beechmast, chestnuts and other nuts have fallen, up to 600 pigs will work their way through the forest eating them from the forest floor.

You can usually find the pigs roaming the forest floors from around the third week in September or whenever the acorns begin to drop from the beautiful trees. The exact Pannage dates are decided by the New Forest Verderers and the Forestry Commission and is based on seasonal variations. The 2016 Pannage season start[ed] on 12th September.”

Near North Gorley I managed to catch a trio of these animals including a Gloucester Old Spot. Note the rings through the noses, which would be the envy of some of our young people.

The larger of the other two pink ones suddenly delivered a ferocious snout side-swipe to the other. The open mouth gives an indication of the decibels achieved by the resounding squeal emanating from the victim. Perhaps this was Mum administering a clip round the ear.

It is difficult to convey the pace at which these apparently cumbersome creatures hoover the forest floor.

After they had had their fill they flopped by the roadside.

Speaking of having had one’s fill, you have seen my late lunch, so will not be surprised that I did not join Jackie this evening in a second helping of our Chinese Takeaway.

‘…..Or Grandpa Photographing A Leaf’

We enjoyed another gloriously sunny day. The sky and seas were both clear blue. It was nippy in the shade, but the sun was warming, as I took my usual walk to Hordle Cliff top, where the browns and ochres of the hillside brambles and the shining shingle contrasted well with the brilliant blues.

The Solent had looked most inviting from Downton Lane, where a row of mirror glass had been laid along the pitted footpath through Roger Cobb’s maize fields.

The Shorefield rooks are becoming more vociferous, and distant houses shimmered as I walked along the path to the beach.

Robins are territorial creatures, so the one I stalked from stalk to stalk among the brambles was probably the one I have photographed before on that same area of the clifftop.

I exchanged greetings with a passing jogger and his dog I now see quite regularly on the coast road.

Another customary acquaintance is a gentleman with a little dog which befriended a woman and a little boy who walked down the steps to play at the water’s edge.

Further lengthy conversations somewhat extended the timescale of my outing. The first was with a very gregarious woman who was checking the times posted at the bus stops in the jogger picture. With her pass it is worth her while to visit Waitrose where, if she spends £5 in the shop she can enjoy a free coffee and a copy of the Daily Mail newspaper.

After this, I met Roger outside Hordle Manor Farm, now occupied by his son Matthew and his family, who had indeed rescued Scooby on 17th August last year. He also told me that the lake I had photographed filling his field eleven days ago had now disappeared. This is apparently quite a regular occurrence.

In the car yesterday, Becky had described the 2012 film ‘The Sweeney’, in which a far more thuggish, twenty first century, Ray Winstone reprises John Thaw’s Jack Regan role. The eponymous TV series of the 1970s was iconic. ‘Sweeney!’ (1977) and ‘Sweeney 2’ (1978) were feature length cinema spin-offs. Our daughter, who had watched it with Flo, described an amazing car chase through a single lane winding ‘tree tunnel’. Becky had speculated about what could happen if various pedestrians, such as an old lady walking her dog, had been the other side of one of the bends. Flo had finished off the list with: ‘Or Grandpa photographing a leaf’. It just had to be done, didn’t it? The title, incidentally derives from ‘Sweeney Todd’ (the demon barber of Fleet Street), cockney rhyming slang for the Flying Squad. The way this verbal device works is to take a two or three word phrase and just use the first one as the required term. Another example is Plates (of meat) for Feet.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent fusilli and tagliatelle Bolognese followed by lemon tart, with which we both drank water and I finished the Cotes du Rhone Villages.

Black And White Challenge

This morning I received a photographic challenge from Kanan Buta. This requires the posting on Facebook of a black and white floral picture each day for five days, on each of which a challenge is to be issued to another friend. I have plenty of pictures of summer flowers that could easily be converted to monochrome, but it seemed to me that a challenge accepted in November should be photographed currently and that these colourful subjects should be chosen for their form. In discussing this with Jackie, she came up with the perfect suggestion for this, the anniversary year of the commencement of The Great War. This was a skeletal poppy head, stripped of all flesh yet still standing in the garden. Here is my first day’s entry:
On this the first bright, finger-tingling day, taking my Hordle Cliff top walk, I happily obtained a more than ample haul for my five days. I will include one in each of my subsequent WordPress posts.
As I walked down Downton Lane, a cloud of dust billowing from Shorefield Road alerted me to road repairs that were being undertaken. A cutting blade was being applied to the edge of the tarmac.
The rooks are nesting again and soon Shorefield Road will be reverberating with their cries.
Frost was coating the fields and hedgerows, and condensation, reminiscent of that described in my ‘Armistice Day’ post, lined the bus shelter in the corner of which a daddy longlegs had met its end.
The sea was calm; The Needles, sharp and clear, pierced the pastel skyline; and a woman with a pair of dogs crunched along the shingle.
We had a little less disruption in our internet access today, which is why I had the confidence to wait until tonight to post my offering. Given that the fourth engineer is booked in tomorrow, I do hope there will be difficulties in the morning, otherwise it will be like a visit to a doctor, when you suddenly feel better whilst sitting in the GP’s patient chair.
This evening Jackie produced a splendid pork casserole for our dinner. This was accompanied by crisp carrots, brussels sprouts, and broccoli; roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. Dessert was steamed syrup sponge and custard. Jackie drank Peroni and I drank Via di Cavallo chianti 2012.

Clapham Common

It was a bright and sunny day for my visit to old friends Wolf and Luci. Jackie, as usual drove me to and from New Milton Station for the train to Waterloo. From the terminal, I took the Northern Line to Clapham Common, along the South Side of which I walked, crossing over to Elms Road, right into Abbeville Road, and left into Hambalt Road to their home. I returned home by the same methods.
Maple leaves were falling on the common where work forces were engaged in clearing them up, mostly with extended ‘big hands’ to aid the process. Blue pigment on a particularly gnarled trunk produced an interesting abstract painting.
Pigeons, rooks, and Canada geese scratched about in well clawed soil, and Bullfrogs overlooked the redundant cattle trough, now planted with flowers.
Also apparently redundant, certainly unusable, is the drinking fountain provided by The United Kingdom Temperance and General Provident Association. This grand sculptured structure, even if it were functioning as it did in Victorian times, would probably be eschewed by the various gentlemen occupying the benches as they glugged alcoholic beverages straight from their cans. The lions embellishing each side would probably never again have their thirsts slaked by the blocked and rusting fountain.
When I lived or worked in London I had enjoyed a monthly lunch with my friends. Unfortunately this frequency is no longer possible but whenever Jackie and I see them it is equally pleasurable, as it was today. Today Luci produced a tender lamb casserole, wild rice, parsnips, and brussels sprouts, followed by her trademark flavoursome crustless pumpkin pie. She and I both drank Wolf Blass red wine, while Wolf drank his customary apple juice.
Luci wrapped up a helping of the dessert for Jackie, who enjoyed it as much as I did. After that superb lunch, I didn’t join my lady for dinner.
On my return home I was greeted by an e-mail from Luci containing very good photographs of Wolf and me taken with her Samsung mobile phone.