It wasn’t until about 4 p.m. the afternoon that I realised on glancing through the window beside my desk that the sun had made a fleeting appearance as,
against the still indigo skies, it lit the pink rambling rose rising from the front trellis.
Its deeper pink companion soared above the porch, and the first of the Félicité Perpétue blooms which will drape themselves over the opposite fence has opened out.
I had spent the morning reading and responding to the letters of condolences it has taken me three months to complete. We posted these from Everton Post Office and drove on further into the forest.
Royden Lane took us to
Lower Sandy Down. On the left hand side of this shot stands
a large oak tree the bole of which is home to ferns, ivy, and mosses.
An unusual number of ponies grazed around Hatchet Pond, normally the realm of donkeys.
Stately swans disturbed the surface of the lake which mirrored their images.
A black headed gull was in an equally reflective mood.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s perfect pork paprika; boiled new potatoes; breaded mushrooms; and green beans. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Carmenere.
Such brief sunshine as we were to enjoy today came quite early. That is when we set off for a forest drive.
Two lanes we traversed en route to Beaulieu are named Boldre and Rodlease.
The Gravel Pit Lake at Pilley, almost bone dry last summer, has returned to its normal full state, nurturing white flowers and geese.
Beside Beaulieu Lake we witnessed the annual symbiotic relationship between birds and beasts – in this case jackdaws and cattle. The jackdaw flying away in the first picture has been seen off by a rival for soft nesting material. In spring the animals need to shed their summer coats and the birds need to build nests. The cows remain nonchalant as the birds pluck away.
A short distance away a group of donkeys were being similarly shorn, but by the time Jackie had managed to park the car for my disembarkation, beaks had been filled and birds had flown.
I think a herd of white horned cattle at Dibden must be http://afs.okstate.edu/breeds/cattle/whitepark/index.html/
More familiar black ones wandered at Bartley.
From there we made our way to Nomansland, where we lunched at The Lamb Inn. I enjoyed a massive mixed grill and two thirds of a pint of Doom Bar. Jackie’s choice was halloumi burger with sweet potato chips and salad. She drank a Diet Pepsi.
More foals were in evidence alongside Roger Penny Way. One mare led her offspring across the road to make an introduction to a potential playmate. The acquaintance appeared to be short-lived.
After our most substantial lunch, we needed no further sustenance this evening.
Towards the end of yesterday afternoon Giles collected me from home and drove me to the bird hide at Milford on Sea. It is his task to lock up the accessible public facility at 5 p.m. or dusk, whichever is earlier. We spent a happy hour in each other’s company as I benefitted from my friend’s avian knowledge.
Alongside the stilted structure bird feeders hang from trees. A couple of sleek, well-fed, rats crouched poised to scoop up spillage. Note the hind toes clinging to a fallen branch for purchase while tiny hands clutch the spoils.
In the distance, against the backdrop of holiday homes, a variety of gulls and swans skimmed over the stream reflecting the bordering reeds.
Groups of swans sought rest, relaxation, and sustenance on the soggy terrain.
A pair of mallards dozed among the tufts; nearby a Brent goose investigated dining options.
I had forgotten my specs, so relied upon Giles to spot and direct me to this godwit wading amongst the teal.
I have John Knifton to thank for my being able to identify the teal from the luminous green flashes on their sunlit plumage.
When it was time for us to depart, Giles scaled a wooden fence and went Wombling to gather rubbish blown into the bird sanctuary.
It is the best part of half a century since I last photographed my friend reflected upside down in his glass chessboard while we were playing a game in 1973.
Yesterday evening Jackie produced perfect roast chicken, potatoes, and parsnips; Yorkshire pudding; sage and onion stuffing; crunchy carrots and broccoli; and rich red cabbage.
Much of today was spent on culling photographs and putting this post together.
This evening we dined at The Royal Oak. We both enjoyed crisp battered haddock; chunky chips with intact peel; garden peas that, like lemmings, were dead set on diving off the plate and rolling off the table; and onion rings containing slices of onion rather than the usual mush. We shared a carafe of most potable Pino Grigio.
On another bright, almost balmy, morning, Jackie drove us out to Hatchet Pond and back.
Donkeys,
cattle,
and ponies, basked, dozed, chewed the cud, or cropped the grass on the approach to the pond. Eyes open or closed, they definitely think it’s spring.
Have the usual companions of the
sole cormorant on sentry duty
metamorphosed into a pair of swans gliding to and fro beside their posts?
Sedate gulls basked and preened on the opposite bank.
More ponies could be glimpsed among the still leafless trees within the nearby Rans Wood.
This evening we dined on rack of pork ribs in barbecue sauce, prawn toasts, aromatic spring rolls, and Jackie’s special savoury rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden, from which I abstained.
On a bright afternoon of sunshine and showers Jackie and I took a spin in the forest.
Various flocks of birds in different locations skimmed the clouds in the changing skies, taking rests atop the naked trees.
Cattle in a field alongside Bockhampton Road stood in a muddy, waterlogged field. As I watched
one, with the backing of another three, began a gentle crooning rendering of
Reflecting on the fact that there is no speed limit on Harpway Lane and other similar roads, Jackie pointed out that on a speed awareness course she had learned that this was because they had never had an accident. That was a little comforting to hear.
Beyond the hedge it was apparent that a farmer was branching out into a new kind of livestock.
Someone must have been talking about sheep in London Lane, Ripley, for their ears were burning.
This bank at Moyles Court School was just one example of a drift of snowdrops.
Ponies, as usual, occupied the green at South Gorley.
When these two made for my open window I decided to wind it up.
We continued on to Gorley Lynch where donkeys
and ponies kept the shrubberies in check;
and, until they heard the click of my shutter, there were a number of vantage points for observing distant deer.
The stream visible in the last of the deer shots flowed across one drive and reflected its bordering trees.
There is often limited passing space on the forest lanes. On the way up from the ford at Frogham we just sat and waited for this woman and her dog.
Back at home we dined on more of our Hordle Chinese Take Away meal from trays on our laps while we watched the recorded Six Nations rugby match between England and France.
This morning I made four 5 x 7 prints for Ian from his and Becky’s wedding.
After lunch I made a start on the Christmas cards and Jackie and I drove to New Milton for some Christmas shopping, and continued on into the forest.
The day was dull and dry.
We arrived at a glassy Hatchet Pond when a pink strip above the tree line was a precursor of the impending weak sunset.
Waterfowl in evidence included a pair of swans and their adolescent cygnet
flexing its muscles
in sight of gulls, mallards, and moorhens.
One vociferous gull seemed to be reflecting on this 1962 classic of The Drifters:
The tide was high at Tanners Lane where the Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse were silhouetted against the pink precursor.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome lamb jalfrezi with tasty savoury rice. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.
This morning Aaron of A.P. Maintenance completed his preparation of the Rose Garden for winter that is still being kept at bay.
A week or so back he gave the shrub roses a good haircut. Today he laid our two year old compost around their bases.
Clumps of bright yellow bidens, like these at the foot of our sculpture, Florence;
Little irises, heucheras, lamium, and geraniums;
a fig flowering in the Palm Bed;
and this clematis on the Westbrook Arbour, all speak of the season’s confusion.
This morning I helped Elizabeth load her car with belongings to take to her Pilley house. This afternoon Jackie and I followed this up by unloading them for her. We then continued on a forest drive.
The lake that has been mostly dry during the summer once more bears ripples and reflections.
Bustling goats in a field alongside Jordans Lane competed in a dodgem race for first bite at the bundles of hay clutched under their speeding keeper’s left arm.
On an open space beside Bull Hill a group of stumpy little ponies chomped on their own food.
From here we sped off to Mudeford, arriving just in time for sunset. While I was taking these shots
I was unaware that Jackie was adding her own sequence, featuring me among the silhouettes.
Preening swans,
one with an entourage of gulls, completed the picture.
Elizabeth returned in the evening and we all dined on Jackie’s splendidly hot chilli con carne and toothsome savoury rice. My sister drank Hop House Lager; my wife drank Hoegaarden; and I finished the Merlot
It was shortly after dawn on this overcast morning when Jackie set out to drive me through the gloom to New Hall hospital for a follow-up appointment with Mr Kask, my knee surgeon.
Apparently walking on the undulating forest terrain is not affording me enough flexibility in the operated knee. I either need to use an exercise bike or take up again painful bending exercises. I don’t have a bike, so this afternoon I resumed the latter.
Otherwise all is well and I am scheduled for replacement right knee towards the end of January. With any luck I will have two good pins by the end of next year.
On our return journey Jackie parked beside the River Avon near Braemore Bridge on the approach to Woodgreen village.
Admiring the brickwork and tiles of the elderly mill buildings, including a shed roof in need of repair, I watched the mill race rushing under the bridge,
its turbulence sending the water weeds wildly waving beneath the surface of the river
on which swam swans and their cygnets, with a few mallards for good measure.
Having ascended a steep hill through the village we arrived
at Woodgreen Common where brisk dog walkers and
leisurely breakfasting ponies enhanced the scene.
On the way to Hale, a fluffy donkey foal was being initiated into topiary training until the trio crossed the road to tuck into tastier brambles.
Jackie parked halfway down the next hill from where I photographed the lane and its woodland environs.
Having bought some potting sand from Otter Nurseries on our return, we drove on to Steamer Point, paid the parking fee, trekked down to the Beach Hut Café on Friars Cliff beach promenade, and read a notice announcing that because of building works only coffee and cakes were available this morning. As we wanted big breakfasts we were somewhat disappointed.
Not to be daunted we drove back to the Walkford Diner, which was closed because Monday is the day they carry out the cleaning.
So we filled up with petrol, returned home, and lunched on cold chicken salad from plates on our knees while watching Bargain Hunt which at least wasn’t a repeat.
I have been encouraged by readers’ comments to persevere with the new editor. I still cannot see a preview, so I have to trust that my images can be enlarged.
This evening we dined at Lal Quilla where my main course was king prawn vindaloo; Jackie’s was Lal Quilla Special (chicken and minced lamb – rather hot); we shared special fried rice and a paratha, and both drank Kingfisher. The service was as friendly as ever and the food superb.
CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN A GROUP TO ACCESS ITS GALLERY, INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS OF WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE BY SCROLLING DOWN AND CHECKING BOX AT BOTTOM RIGHT. SINGLE IMAGES CAN BE ENLARGED WITH A CLICK THAT MAY BE REPEATED
Our trip to the forest was somewhat delayed this afternoon;
our passage from our front drive was blocked by the rear section of a container lorry.
Close inspection revealed that this vehicle’s path was blocked by what appeared to be an injured cyclist being supported on the road.
In each direction along Christchurch Road traffic was being turned away by police. I ensured my photographs were anonymous, and thought it would seem unseemly to ask what had happened. Given that the invalid was talking and it was an hour and a half before an ambulance arrived, I can only assume that this was not the direst of emergencies.
Jackie and I were eventually able to depart as police officer, who informed us that the man now being helped into the ambulance had “taken a tumble off his bike”, raised the barrier for Jackie to drive on in the direction of Lymington. On the outskirts of that town another screaming ambulance, blue lights flashing, heralded one more lengthy tailback necessitating us and many others turning back the way we had come. We took the road down to the harbour. Eventually we reached Undershore and escaped to comparatively quiet Pilley.
Near Norley Wood the usual variety of miniature ponies grazed in the light of the late afternoon sun.
Against the backdrop of Beaulieu Abbey and its grounds, a solitary cygnet was surrounded by energetic mallards competing for food in the lake’s shallows. The deeper water was frequented by gliding gulls and sedately sailing swans.
Later we enjoyed a blazing sunset over Hatchet Pond. One gentleman photographing an expectant swan and her cygnet had first lured them with enticing comestibles. As he departed, his models floated off to present their own Rorschach tests.
On our return home we joined Elizabeth in the Royal Oak where we dined. After a pint of Razor Back, with the meal I drank a glass of Merlot. The ladies drank Amstell. My meal was a mixed grill; Elizabeth chose venison sausages, mashed potatoes and perfect vegetables; Jackie savoured gammon steak, chips and salad. The food was as good as ever under the current management.
