On another gloomy and cold morning we ventured out into the forest trusting that the nearer we arrived at midday the brighter the light may become. If anything there was more darkness at noon.
We stopped at Setley Ridge Garden Centre which Jackie, masked up, entered and bought some Christmas presents while I focussed on the displays outside, in the doorways, and through the window.
Afterwards Jackie tucked the Modus onto a verge in Church Lane while I
photographed the fast moving bubbling, rippling, stream with its arboreal reflections.
The old quarry lake at Pilley was once more full enough to provide a still canvas for artistic reflections.
No-one had plucked mistletoe from a fallen tree. I guess there is not much call for it in 2020.
A trio of donkeys spilled over the road at Jordans Lane.
Jackie photographed a driver’s eye view.
Our starter for this evening’s dinner was Jackie’s chicken, bacon, and vegetable stoup. The main course was her succulent shepherd’s pie topped with crisp croquette potatoes; served with firm Brussels sprouts, carrots, cauliflower and broccoli; and meaty gravy. Dessert was apple and gooseberry crumble and custard. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Merlot.
blooming yesterday morning. Here are the Assistant Photographer’s contributions. The first three are of Mrs Popple fuchsias and a giant which has lost its label; next is a white solanum with the bright blue Ali Baba planter in the background; the hanging baskets following contain petunias and bacopas; next, not actually a flower, are bejewelled weeping birch catkins; and finally we have raindrops on black eyed Susans.
Mine were chrysanthemums of varying hues, still hot lips, and, believe it or not, yellow antirrhinums.
Before lunch today we took a short drive into the forest, via
Lower Sandy Down which offered
a number of autumn scenes.
Church Lane, running up and down from Boldre to Pilley, came next.
Jackie parked on a verge while I stood on the road bridge contemplating
the now fast-flowing stream and its reflections.
This tangle of oak branches and the weeping willow tresses were also visible from my vantage point.
At Pilley we encountered a number of ponies beside the lake,
and noticed that Foxglove and Twinkle now have chickens for company.
The cyclist who squeezed past these donkeys on the road must have been intrigued at the number of times we passed him as we wandered around in circles at this point.
Back at home Nick continued working proficiently yet at a rate of knots. Moving from room to room as he put curtains back up and another coat of paint on the door in the sitting room; he further prepared the kitchen and added paint to walls and ceiling. One of the horrors he had to deal with was the hole in the lath and plaster wall into which had been driven by our predecessors a bracket on which swung a large fridge that blocked the doorway during their residence.
Unfortunately our craftsman will have to leave the work in the kitchen until after 19th January which is the earliest that Barry Chislett-Bruce can repair our leak. Reflecting their reliability and the quality of their work, both these men, thorough experts in their fields, are very busy, so we are happy to wait.
This evening we dined on crisp oven fish and chips; green peas; piquant pickled onions and gherkins, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Prestige de Calvet Cotes du Rhone Villages 2019.
I wasted the best part of a rainy afternoon wrestling with my scanner because I had planned to start a new series of slides and negatives, but it is so long since I worked on any of those that I managed to mess up the settings and couldn’t sort them out. I even downloaded a manual from the internet but couldn’t understand what to do with it. Children, grandchildren, great nieces and nephews – help me please.
My caring Chauffeuse, despite the increasing hammering of rain lashed by 50+ m.p.h. winds, dragged me out of my slough of despond by suggesting we went out for a drive.
We began on the eroded cliffs of Milford on Sea
along which I struggled against the gales.
Waves crashed against the rocks below and the Isle of Wight was barely visible to intrepid walkers.
Ripples blew across the car park; traffic control signs, and barriers to road works were flattened.
Continuing inland we listened to the mesmerising swish of windscreen wipers and the cacophony of clattering rain,
gazed on wet fields with neither sheltered livestock nor sensible wildlife in sight.
We were about to turn for home, but on such a day it seemed obligatory to investigate Waterditch Road. So we did.
As we traversed the ford over the stream that no doubt gave the road its name we felt grateful that we did not live in the house beside it.
British Summer Time does not end until 2 a.m. tomorrow morning, but, driving into headlights through Highcliffe soon after 5 p.m. one would never have known.
This evening we dined on toothsome baked gammon; crisp roast potatoes; succulent ratatouille; crunchy carrots; and tender runner beans with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Montpeyroux. Afterwards we enjoyed Jackie’s aromatic apple pie and cream.
As the early morning sunshine made way for the later gloom I assisted the Head Gardener in some tidying of the garden whilst also
recording the current state of affairs. Along with various views I photographed dahlias, fuchsias, clematises, roses, nicotiana, leaves of Weeping Birch and Virginia creeper, asters, a bee, and begonias. Clicking on any image will access the gallery which provides individual titles and aids enlargement.
Later this afternoon because we were promised sunny periods we went in search of some, finding one bestowing its charms on Ibsley where
an assortment of pigs frenziedly competing for mast rocketed along the leaf-dappled verges and to and fro across the roads grunting, snuffling, occasionally squealing in isolated panic and frantically dashing about, perplexing the be-rugged field horses and amusing visiting drivers.
The forded stream is now reasonably full,
and the surrounding landscapes rich in autumn colour.
A solitary pony at Appleslade sported.a caramel coat.
This morning I read in the car while Jackie shopped first in Milford Supplies for hand gel, wipes, and a mask; then for pansies in Ferndene Farm Shop, after which we continued into the forest, where Holmsley Passage displayed signs of autumn in the form of
partially nibbled mushrooms, vibrant wild rose hips, and golden brown bracken.
The rippling stream flows beneath the little bridge spanning the lane, now so narrowly tarmacked as to be almost impassable.
While I focussed on the bracken Jackie photographed her resident wing mirror spider as it emerged from hiding, took a little exercise round the rim, and scuttled back inside.
As I wandered in the woodland alongside Bisterne Close the tranquility I shared with a pair of peaceful ponies was about to be disturbed by a steadily increasing rolling, reverberating, thunder, which, given the clarity of the skies was somewhat surprising.
Suddenly, streaming through the trees and into the open a string of assorted ponies rushed past, scooping up the original couple in their wake. Soon they could be seen among distant gorse bushes until their thundering hooves recommenced and instantly they were gone.
All was returned to calm normality by cattle leisurely blocking Bennet’s Lane.
This afternoon Jackie planted the pansies around Scooby’s grave with tete-a-tete daffodil bulbs beneath them.
This morning Jackie created and photographed in situ this stone for Scooby. As soon as she can order one next month, Becky will plant a softly scented rose ‘Little White Pet’.
Later, on this, Mum’s 98th birthday, we visited her at Woodpeckers Care Home, brought a card and pot plants, and sang Happy Birthday. The plaster on her arm remains as a precaution against clothes rubbing on the well healed skin. Mum peeled it back to show us that it is quite dry. The dressing will finally be removed tomorrow.
This afternoon we took a drive into the forest.
One end of Church Lane crosses a now fast flowing swollen stream stretching through the landscape and a long garden. We experienced a great deal of overnight rainfall which has contributed to this.
Close scrutiny of the recently cropped tails on some of the various ponies occupying Wooden House Lane in Pilley will indicate that they have been rounded up and freshly clipped in a Drift round up.
These creatures were particularly persistent in gaining my acquaintance; so much so that I could feel the breath from their nostrils tickling the hairs on the back of my hand. I therefore popped back into the car and changed my lens, so that I could keep a slightly more sociable distance.
Two of the equine creatures were not into maintaining any sort of distance.
On Pilley Bailey ponies on the road had no qualms about displaying their neat tail trims.
This evening we dined on spicy pork chops; roast potatoes, some of which were sweet; crisp carrots and cauliflower; with tender runner beans and meaty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank The Second Fleet Limestone Coast Shiraz 2019.
It was a pair of grey ponies at the crossroads that prompted me to ask my willing Chauffeuse to park beside
the stream at Ibsley ford, where a story began to unfold.
The greys, casting their shadows in the morning sunshine, were mirrored by a couple of cyclists engaging in a lengthy conversation before parting and going their separate ways.
Leaving its companion to admire her silhouette, the lead pony
climbed to a higher level and, despite acorns being poisonous to horses, began to snuffle around them.
A kindly woman parked nearby, left her vehicle, and began lobbing apples in the direction of the animal that had remained on the green. You may need to bigify these pictures to see the airborne fruit just beneath a cycle wheel.
Having emptied her carrier bag the lady returned to her car and continued on her way, leaving the recipient of her largesse wondering what to do next.
There are a number of mighty oaks at this location. Here, one is host to an intriguing fungus; another leans over a stream; and a third casts long shadows.
This comparative youngster has seen better days.
Visiting holiday children spent many happy hours on this makeshift swing.
On the other side of the ford the continuing stream
has recently been bridged by a fallen tree which will see no better days.
I photographed some autumn leaves and turned to find that
Jackie had been focussed on me.
In nearby fields, reflecting the much colder, albeit bright, weather, field horses are back in their winter rugs.
We drove on to Hockey’s where we brunched, even though on technically takeaway meals, this time in
a warm covered dining area with its antique displays.
We had travelled to the north of the forest in search of peckish pannage porkers, but the only ones we met were these on Hockey’s pots.
On the road to Gorley I photographed a fence and its accompanying gate; a lane with smoke wafting past a thatched cottage; and sunlight piercing the same vapours within the dappled woodland.
Jackie meanwhile focussed on
the ancient craft of hedge laying
and a winsome weather vane, in the process pausing for the wind to produce a pleasing direction.
Later, we presented a dilemma to a hind and fawn imitating a pair of rabbits in headlights. They eventually decided to take the road ahead, until they encountered an oncoming woman. What now?
The walker moved aside and they scampered back into the trees.
This evening we dined on oven fish, chips, and peas with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.
This morning, while the Head Gardener continued her autumn clearances, I followed in her wake, collecting, chopping, and composting clippings. The exercise was most delightful when focussed on the Pond Bed, savouring the liquorice flavour released from the statuesque bronze fennel and listening to the tinkling trickle of the water feature. Small birds are beginning to tweet again; pigeons continually exchange melodic love-notes; a biplane droned overhead. Tramping over crunching gravel on the back drive was less harmonious.
The bronze fennel is a very prolific self-seeder, so after lunch I cut down and composted much more of it. The pelargoniums in the second picture are in a hanging basket, which is why they stand above the much taller plant. The bed still contains
other pelargoniums, dahlias, and chrysanthemums.
Nearby, in the Wisteria Bed, these pink roses are blooming again.
Keeping with the pink, we have fuchsias Display and Garden News.
Super Elfin, red, Penny Lane, white roses, and clematis Dr Ruppel still scale the Gothic arch.
Fortunately these everlasting sweet peas are almost finished for this year, because many of the stems were bound to the fennel I removed from the Weeping Birch Bed.
More dahlias thrive in the New Bed.
It is now the larger Cabbage White butterflies that have taken the place of the Small Whites on the verbena bonariensis.
Paul Clarke dropped in for a pleasant chat and to return borrowed books while driving a sleeping Margery back from Bournemouth this afternoon.
Later, we took a drive into the forest, where Jackie visited Hockey’s Farm Shop, while
I photographed an old farm cart that isn’t going anywhere.
The stream at Ogdens North is now dry enough for me to step across quite easily. The pony in the last two of these pictures was so keen to make my acquaintance that I had to back away sharply to photograph the persistent creature which abandoned my face for he sparse grass underfoot.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty liver and bacon casserole; al dente carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli; with tender runner beans. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Calvet Prestige Bordeaux 2018.
The wind lessened today, so we made a start on recovery.
There is nothing to be done about windburn such as this on the red Japanese maple, but
we did carry out an extensive hard prune in the Rose Garden where Mamma Mia and Absolutely fabulous prevail.
Bees were confined to their hives yesterday and made up for lost time today. Here they may be seen in Absolutely Fabulous, in bidens, in Laura Ford, in pelargoniums and in erigeron.
Another heavy storm is forecast in two days time, so we saw no point in much more tidying this afternoon and went for a drive instead.
We turned off Salisbury Road into
Ivy Lane, at the end of which lies Ibsley, and
‘Moyles Court School [which] is an independent day and boarding school for pupils from 3 – 16 years old.[5] Moyles Court was the former manor house of Rockford, and later for Ellingham as well. The 17th century manor house was once the home of Dame Alice Lisle, the last lady to be publicly beheaded in England following a judicial trial.[6] In 1940 the building was requisitioned by the RAF, who stationed the headquarters for the Ibsley Airfield there for six years.[7]‘ (Wikipedia) This was the base for both RAF and USAAF.
This afternoon the verges outside the school were lined with reconditioned army vehicles, enthusiasts of reenactment, and members of https://www.mvt.org.uk – Military Vehicle Trust.
There are good number of WW2 airfields and military sites in the New Forest. A member of the convoy explained that they were touring these locations. In the process they attracted photographers and visitors, including children, who were most intrigued.
Another attraction was the regular ice cream van. Take a boy to the forest and he will come home with a stick.
During the holiday season the forded stream always encourages a gathering, members of whom will often rig up a makeshift swing.
This evening we dined on baked gammon; boiled new potatoes and crunchy carrots; piquant cauliflower cheese; and tender cabbage, with which Jackie drank Becks and I drank more of the Saint-Chinian.
Early yesterday evening Jackie drove us to Darbar Indian restaurant in Emsworth where we joined Becky and Ian in celebration of our daughter’s 50th birthday. Catching up after six months in lockdown was remarkably easy – we just dropped into delightful conversation over excellent food with attentive service. We shared poppadoms, onion bahjis, three different types of naan, and pilau rice. My main dish was Goan fish curry. Ian and I drank Cobra while the ladies drank Diet Coke.
The waiting staff all wore PPE masks and were as attentive and efficient as ever.
The warm, sunlit, weather today asserted that summer is not yet ready to yield to autumn. For this reason we took a mid-morning drive into the forest.
Robert Gill’s garden in Everton Road is always the showpiece of the annual Hordle Scarecrow Trail. We are not sure whether there will be one this year, but this professional gardener has given us an advance display with his NHS tribute while his alter ego sits comfortably with his name-mug.
So much tarmac is regularly nibbled from the edges of this lane winding through the undulating moorland carpeted with heather and bracken that we always wonder how much longer we will be able to use the route.
There is no passing space for any two vehicles without one diverting to the verge; whenever I want to leave our car in order to wander among the ponies Jackie has to find a spot where there is possibly enough leeway for such a manoeuvre.
Ponies in and around the stream are sometimes irresistible. After the recent rains there is more fresh water for the animals.
Cyclists and walkers tend to gather and consult maps before the modern house built on the footprint of the old signalman’s building beside the former railway track which is now a path for their convenience.
Penetrating the trees the bright sunlight dappled both woodland and ponies along Bisterne Close. This poor creature trying to ignore the flies coating its muzzle let out an almighty snort when the insects became too intrusive.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata served with fritters of courgette that Giles had bought from some enterprising children on his way to his last visit to us. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Axis 280 Cabernet Sauvignon 2017 – a smooth red wine from Western Australia’s Margaret River.
