On a crisp, bright morning with a cloudless blue sky, we took a drive around the New Forest.
Lacking a leaf canopy, the treetop roof, like our kitchen skylight, leaked onto the forest floor.
These scenes, photographed at Brownhills near Wootton Heath, were repeated throughout our journey. Branches are traced on the surface of pools reflecting various hues of blue contrasting with the seepage from the reddened soil and the
fallen leaves. It was possible to ignore the soggy refuse littered about.
Redlands house name on stone was also reflected in nature’s mirror.
Ponies generally remain deeper in the forest during heavy rain. Today they were everywhere in the forest and on the heathland.
On Whitefield Moor two members of a basking group appeared to lack the energy to support the weight of their heads. The most likely explanation is that these creatures, usually pretty scrawny by this time of the year, have been eating as if it were Christmas for some months now.
A giant, preening, swan, upon closer inspection turned out to be an itchy pony
that tail-twitched off after gaining some relief.
The magnificent upright redwood firs of the Rhinefield arboretum burned in the sunlight.
A group of mud-caked, yellow-tagged, curly haired cattle, as they ambled along the road hugging the wall of a thatched cottage at East Boldre, successfully delayed traffic for a while.
The yellow tags on these creatures’ ears denote ownership by the commoners who are entitled to allow their animals to roam free. I have never seen these beasts released from their byres this early in the year.
This evening we dined at Dynasty in Brockenhurst. I enjoyed a king prawn jalfrezi; Jackie’s choice was paneer chaslick ; we shared an egg paratha, special fried rice, and sag paneer; and both drank Kingfisher.
