An Act Of Love

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Knowing that the clear morning would turn overcast as the day went on, Jackie drove me to Beaulieu and back for a photo session.

We began at Hatchet Pond where a couple of well-wrapped-up silhouetted walkers, observed by swans in the icy water, passed

a pair of chomping ponies, one freckle-faced.

After a while they turned and headed back for the car park.

A number of other ponies unsuccessfully attempted to merge in with the bare branches of the trees.

Even this duck appeared to be huddled against the chilly weather;

despite being blue with cold, the more playful gulls swooped, skidded, and skated along their improvised ice floe landing strip.

There is always at least one pony lurking around the cars in the hopes of drivers donating delicacies.

This one mistook my attention for intention to feed, and peered hopefully through the windscreen as I returned to the car.

Both the large pond and the tidal Beaulieu river bore shards of ice on their banks.

I was unaware that there was risk of flooding, but the owners of Abbeygate Cottage, opposite the river, had reinforced their gateway with sandbags, so I imagine there must be one.

Ponies very rarely either make a sound or break into a trot. I was therefore surprised to hear one whinnying at a pace up and down the bank.

It was only when it took its place among the traffic that it slowed down and kept silent.

Another surprise was to see gentleman with a long stick, carrying a Waitrose ‘bag for life’ across the still wet river bed. He strode purposefully until his goal became apparent.

Quietly, patiently, the swans lined up for the treats he carried. There was none of the usual clamour as these elegant creatures craned to take food from his fingers. Even the non-squabbling gulls awaited their turn. They knew this man who loved them.

On our return, seeking a place to turn, we were assisted by two ponies blocking the road.

They were licking the salt from the tarmac.

This evening we dined on cottage pie, boiled potatoes, carrots and green beans. Jackie drank sparkling water, and I finished the barolo.

Ruby And Arthur Reed

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After a leisurely morning and a lunch of plentiful salad and cold meats left over from yesterday, Jackie, Ian, Becky, Matthew and I drove to the Beachcomber at Barton on Sea for coffee.

The cafe was very full and the day mild enough for people to remain outside, either in the garden

or seated on the clifftop within sight of the Isle of Wight.

More energetic groups, boys, and dogs exercised along the shore.

After coffee the others took Scooby further along the clifftop, whilst Jackie and I went driveabout.

Ponies in the forest kept a low profile until they took it into their heads to hold up traffic on the approach to Beaulieu,

where a few swans and gulls remained on the river even though the tide was out.

Eventually we found ourselves at Hythe Marina Village, a waterside leisure development from 1986, where a weak wintry sun allowed for clear reflections on the still waters.

Skirting a protruding sandy spit,

a Red Jet boat sped across Southampton Water,

where I enjoyed an outside view of Hythe Pier Railway on which Jackie and I had ridden on 4th January 2015.

The Marina has to be approached from this water by means of a lock. Two vessels used this facility while we were there today.

On display on the quayside lies the R.N.L.B. lifeboat ‘Ruby and Arthur Reed’, the story of which is told by Wikipedia here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RNLB_Ruby_and_Arthur_Reed_(ON_990)

This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent chicken curry and spicy basmati rice, with which I drank more of the merlot. I didn’t keep tabs on the others’ beverages.

A Pee And A Frolic With Santa

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This morning I hand delivered some local cards.

Keyhaven harbour, Isle of Wight, The Needles

We then drove to New Milton for some very last minute Christmas shopping, and on to Keyhaven

for a look at the harbour where sleek swans and male and female mallards foraged in the silt alongside each other, dripping water as they came up for air;

gulls perched on railings;

and speckled sandpipers trotted about.

On the Hurst spit could be seen silhouetted figures such as the dog hurtling past its owner to cock a leg against a post. Presumably unaware of the urination, Santa rested his bike against the pillar, and another dog game scampering by for a frolic with the first. Fulfilling his social duty, the dog’s owner toted a filled poo bag.

Mathew, Becky, and Ian, with Scooby, arrived for the Christmas holiday at intervals during the afternoon. Tess and Poppy are to follow on later. Jackie fed us on a delicious cottage pie with crisp carrots and cabbage. I drank Doom Bar, and I’m not bothered about what the others chose.

We hope that, tonight, Santa will find his way to the house. So we left some guiding lights on.

A Little Help From My Friends

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Today dawned dull and dry, so Jackie and I took an early drive to Keyhaven harbour and ambled along the sea wall.

Many boats were peacefully moored after the recent gales,

although one looked a bit of a wreck.

Except when silhouetted against the grey waters, well camouflaged wading birds, picking their way among pebbles and seaweed in the shallows, scuttled to and fro, pausing to probe promising crevices.

I can recognise swans and a cygnet,

and I am fairly confident that this is a redshank, and that many of the others will be the same, but for clear identification I will need a little help from my birding friends.

I imagine that these are more overwintering Brent geese that we saw at Lepe, but I am not sure. In the foreground of the landscape photographs are many more of our own waterfowl.

Quite a few birdwatchers walked along the wall with their dogs. Unfortunately there was evidence that some owners bring their pets out to empty them, as we put it.

Hurst Castle and its lighthouse were visible through the haze.

The website of this historic building tells us:

“The History of Hurst Castle

Hurst Castle is situated at the seaward end of the shingle spit that extends 1.5 miles from Milford-On-Sea. The end of the spit, only three-quarters of a mile from the Isle of Wight, and the views from the top of the centre keep are spectacular.

Hurst Castle was the perfect location to defend the western approach to the Solent. The castle was built by Henry VIII as one of a chain of coastal fortresses and was completed in 1544.

Charles I was imprisoned here in 1648 before being taken to London to his trial and execution.

The castle was modernised during the Napoleonic wars and again in the 1870’s when the enormous armoured wings were constructed. Two of the huge 38-ton guns installed in the 1870’s can be viewed in their casemates.

During World War II, Hurst was manned with coastal gun batteries and searchlights.

Since the castle has been opened to the public many more exhibits and exhibitions have been installed, including the Trinity House lighthouse museum.”

On our way from Keyhaven to Hurst Spit, Jackie spotted a pair of mittens fitted on the lichen-covered limb of a bare tree. Although the slow-growing pale green organism suggests that its host is fairly elderly, I think the gloves have not been placed there to keep it warm, but to alert the parents of a small child who now has cold fingers.

When we passed them earlier, the Isle of Wight and The Needles had been invisible. Just before noon, the emerging sun revealed them.

Steamed syrup pudding and custard followed Jackie’s spicy paprika pork with wild rice and green beans for our dinner this evening. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Séguret Côtes du Rhone Villages, 2014.

Feeding The Birds (2)

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Mat arrived with Poppy this morning. Our granddaughter was walking about and talking scribble. She was straight into toys.

She likes playing with the mice;

but was soon absorbed with the seal box and its fish contents, making lots of cooing noises.

Stopping for beverages at Beaulieu Farm Shop, where there was an Halloween table on display

we took a packed lunch to Hatchet Pond so Poppy could see the gulls,

which Jackie began to feed with the stock of seed that Matthew had supplied.

It wasn’t long before the hopeful donkeys came over for what they saw as their share. They were even more interested when our lunch appeared. Matthew correctly observed that that was why we were discouraged from feeding the asses..

Poppy wandered around clutching her food, which, naturally, was liberally smeared around her mouth.

A rather large fungus mushroomed through the turf.

Matthew used an interesting method of feeding the swans;

then took his daughter to look at the water.

He and Jackie then began a swinging game which had to be constantly repeated.

Thinking Poppy might like the tyre swing on Tanners Lane beach, we made that the next visit. She wasn’t happy with this swing, which was a little too advanced for her, but she was quite content to wobble about the shingle.

Across The Solent we could see a string of yachts passing the Isle of Wight.

After our offspring had returned home, Jackie and I dined on her perfect pork paprika with wild rice, followed by chocolate eclairs. She drank Hoegaarden and I finished the shiraz.

Keeping Ahead Of The Rain

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Almost overnight, a stout fence has appeared in the place of our grizelinia hedge. This had been agreed with our neighbours who have the responsibility for it. The work is excellent.

This morning Aaron lopped more extraneous branches from large bay and holly trees.

This afternoon Jackie cut my hair and made a better job of it than the last professional. Later, she drove us to Beaulieu.

A family joined in the avian activity on the river.

The younger members perched on the grassy bank and conversed with the swans and their cygnets.

Across the other side of the tidal river, Beaulieu Abbey could be seen.

The birds found the receding waters sufficient for a paddle;

and the grown cygnets continued to clutch at their parents’ apron strings.

We had been promised a thunder storm at noon. This did not arrive, but the louring clouds overhead decanted their heavy rain purely in order to put a stop to my photo session.

There was nothing for it but to walk up the main street to join Jackie where she was enjoying hot chocolate in the garden centre. By the time we drove back past the river the tide was out.

For our dinner this evening Jackie produced roast lamb, roast potatoes and parsnips, crunchy carrots and runner beans, with gravy, even though she said it herself, “to die for”. I finished the malbec and the Culinary Queen drank sparkling water.

Frolicking On The Beach

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There are many long-stayers in the garden this year. One of the most amazing is the sweet pea.

This morning Jackie drove us to Steamer Point and back.

On a wall outside one of the houses near the cliff, a lad perches to get a good view of

Friars Cliff Beach.

Believe it or not, this sparkling waterfront is out of season,

so dogs are now welcome to frolic in the sand and roam off the lead.

Waves throwing up spray buffeted the breakwaters

supported by strong beams bound by weathered bolts.

Also frolicking on the beach was a family group,

who later joined the throngs in the Friars Cliff Cafe

where I consumed The Big Breakfast, not quite as daunting as the Olympics one, and Jackie settled for the more standard Friars Breakfast.

Later this afternoon we visited Mum in West End.

We took the route through Beaulieu where the now grown cygnets were being taken for a walk amidst ducks and jackdaws by their parents.

The donkeys in the background gave the birds a wide berth as they set off on their customary traffic disruption exercise.

We spent a couple of hours with Mum during which Jackie cooked her dinner. Elizabeth and Jacqueline joined us and Jackie and my two sisters left Mum to rest while we drove to Jewels Indian restaurant and enjoyed a convivial meal with much reminiscence. The food and service were excellent. My choice was king prawn pathia and pilau rice with which I drank Cobra. We shared a naan.

Feeding The Birds (1)

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There was much electricity in the skies overnight, but none in the house. It was all required for a spectacular thunderstorm. From the news this morning it was apparent that we were very fortunate. Even in Christchurch, about eight miles away, a house was struck by lightning, and in other parts of the country many people woke up to continuing power cuts.

By late afternoon, when we were on a driveabout, the skies had broken up, but still looked dramatic.

Before then, I had filled two more of our large bags with chopped up branches, and we had taken them to the dump.

As before, bees had worked alongside me.

Following a roundabout route, we found ourselves at Hatchet Pond where

donkeys basked

or foraged.

The youngster snoozing by the Lyme disease poster is quite appropriately positioned, because, although the ticks carrying this very nasty complaint inhabit the forest grasses and shrubs, they are also carried by the donkeys.

The two adults seem so much more elegant than many of the asses found wandering in the National Park that we wondered whether they might be mules.

A family by the lakeside had come to feed the birds,

which became very excited at the prospect;

in particular, when watching them fight over breadcrumbs, we were given plentiful evidence of why the collective noun for seagulls is a squabble.

The donkeys turned up for their share,

and became quite persistent.

A magpie also tried its luck, until being seen off by a gull.

Not far away, in Furzey Lodge, a thatcher’s donkey has found its way onto a roof;

and the agisters’ pound is dedicated to Jeffrey Kitcher, M.B.E. : http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/8646105/Jeff-Kitcher.html

This evening we dined on chicken breasts in sweet chilli sauce, Jackie’s onion rice topped by an omelette, and runner beans. I drank Old Crafty Hen.

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.

Away From Its Natural Environment

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It was a bit early in the morning to be presented with a Rorschach test, but that is what Jackie spotted in this morning’s sunlight.

The cosmos and lobelia planting in the iron urn obscures the gazebo path.

Ginger lilies are now in bloom.

After the early burst of sunlight, the morning was dull, but the skies cleared this afternoon when we visited the last four stragglers in the Hordle Scarecrow Trail. All are individual entries.

There are two more Rapunzels, being No.15 at 22 Stopples Lane,

and 20 at 6, Heath Road.

No. 21, The Pied Piper of Hamelin attracts the rats two doors away at number 10;

Rodents, in the form of entry number 19, Cinderella’s mice, also appear to infest 43, Charnock Close.

After this, Jackie drove us to Christchurch, on the banks of the River Stour.

The Red Arrows (http://www.raf.mod.uk/reds/) were performing various routines in the sky above,

leaving their trademark trails passing the mastheads.

Various activities included kayaking;

more leisurely boating;

feeding the birds,

like these swans vying for victuals;

kicking pigeons;

swinging on rails;

or toddling along, balloon in tow.

Some, more sedentary, enjoyed the comforts of benches and deckchairs.

Others stepped it out along the quayside.

One young woman enjoyed a ride in a wheelchair.

Jackie and I were not the only ones who enjoyed an ice cream.

Some way from its natural environment, a hippopotamus canoodled with a mallard,

and, in the distance, waterfowl lined up in harmony with the beach huts of Mudeford. Thanks to my friend, Lisa, I now know that the woman on the right is paddle boarding.

This evening we dined on a highly spiced pizza and salad. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Almocreve tinto reserva 2014.