thatched house – derrickjknight

Sunlight Playing The Forest

Despite the forecast of sunny spells today we were treated to clear cerulean skies and full sunshine throughout the day.

As we set off early to Ferndene Farm shop I paused to admire Jackie’s planting of primulas and violas in front of the garage door trellis.

This was the view from the car as I waited for just a short time for the Shopping Lady to rejoin me.

Long shadows stretched across Beckley Road and the driveway to The Glen;

and knitted knotted skeins across the woodland verges beside the road to Burley, on which

Jackie parked the Modus enabling me to photograph the moorland landscape.

Joggers, cars, walkers, and cyclists competed for space. We had imagined that the rather slow driver of the red car was keeping her distance from the cyclists ahead. She was, however, no faster after those on bikes turned off.

Hightown Lane was my next point of embarkation. Again walkers, cyclists, and other vehicles vied for space on the narrow road. Voices carried some distance.

I began drinking in the delights of the clear, sparkling, stream, revealing glimpses of its bed among rippling reflections; clumps of golden daffodils; bright backlit leaves; and pendant overhanging catkins.

One of the field horses wearing a red rug revealed the need for warmth during the still very cold nights. It wasn’t that warm at 11 a.m. either.

Gnarled trees and sinuous wooden fences cast their own images beneath and beside them;

while those following the contours of mossy banks created concave and convex curves as penetrating light illuminated the soft green cushions and picked out russet autumn leaves.

During her vigil on the verge Jackie spent some time pondering who might live in a cave on the bank.

This evening we dined on further helpings of yesterday’s, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Merlot Tannat.

“Three!?”

Needless to say, the BT e-mail problem that, four days ago, I had been promised would be resolved within 72 hours was not. I therefore spent an hour on the phone this morning, first with an advisor in Belfast, then with one in Cardiff. I won’t bore you with the details, save to say that when back running I had 997 e-mails to check.

Later, Shelly and Ron visited with presents for Jackie’s birthday which it is today;

and to enjoy a guided garden tour. Further details of the pictures are given on the gallery which can be accessed by clicking on any image.

A few days ago I had given Jackie a Birthday Card using a print of a mushroom made by Matthew Chalk of https://www.blackstone-chalk.co.uk and his nine year old son, Arthur.

“I want one”. She had said. I kept shtum.

A day or so later I mentioned that I wanted her to take us for a drive today. She did. To Matthew’s workshop in Tunbridge near Romsey.

The first squeal of delight came when I pointed out the mushrooms I had commissioned, and said “Happy Birthday”. She picked one up, carried it to the car, and returned to bid farewell to Matthew and Arthur who kept their physical distance.

“What about the other two?”, I asked.

“Three!?” came with the second squeal.

At the moment they stand on the patio – a temporary home so Jackie can see them through the sitting room window.

On our return home we took a turn through the forest via Minstead, where

two ponies attempted to enter the car. Note the flies on the first one’s nose as she asks Jacke for entry. The other tried the windscreen, then turned to the driver’s window. Jackie wasn’t quick enough to close her window before her visitor started scratching its chin on the glass.

Leaving the village taking the lane to the Emery Down way we greeted two cyclists, the second towing a trailer containing two little boys. Note the rhododendron Ponticum which currently lines many of the hedgerows. Muffins, the thatched house and garden, was Jackie’s favourite house when we lived in Castle Malwood Lodge.

Further along we encountered a group of assorted ponies and a little brown foal on the road. The mother of the infant became quite stroppy with one of the other mares and it became a bit lively so I re-entered the car until a truce was declared.

We continued through Emery Down, turning right to Bolderwood where

rows of deep pink foxgloves swayed among the giant redwoods of the Ornamental Drive.

For dinner this evening I slowly heated Jackie’s luscious liver and bacon casserole from the freezer while boiling new potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower to perfection. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while I drank Carles Priorat 2016.

Nugget’s Family Needs Feeding

Yesterday evening Nugget and a blackbird who had discovered his feeders outside the stable door both emptied their larders while providing meals on wings for their respective nestlings. Jackie felt so bad at being so Mother Hubbard https://youtu.be/30l7EinbOYg that she decided bird food, especially Nugget’s favourite suet pellets, were essential shopping in these times of restraint. This meant an early morning trip back to Ferndene Farm Shop.

I waited in the car facing the thatched house on Bashley Cross Road,

adjacent trees casting dappled shade; and alongside

a gentleman working from home.

Naturally the Head Gardener also bought more trays of plants and three bags of compost loaded into the car by a helpful staff member. We then took a circuitous route home through

largely empty lanes, some bordered by bluebells, silene, and stitchwort;

some boasting rather splendid gardens.

Ponies parleyed in a paddock on New Lane.

Jackie visited Tesco in Old Milton to purchase a few more essential items and parked

outside the Lotus Restaurant.whose enticing window notice failed to tempt us for this evening’s meal.

Our one previous visit there in December 2013 had been enough to last a lifetime. We thought the current pandemic situation was not one in which to reconsider. The Culinary Queen has nevertheless been hankering for a Chinese takeaway meal from Mr Chan at Hordle. We therefore travelled up

Stopples Lane to check whether he had been able to open. Sadly, he hadn’t.

On the way back home we passed a pair of cyclists we had seen earlier.

During a telephone conversation with Mum today she likened the coronavirus experience to that of the Second World War, in the middle of which I was, of course, born; in particular not being able to see people we are close to, and the possibility we may not do so again. I had spoken of how Ella had just grown able to wander around our house and knew where everything was. I wondered how much she would remember. This prompted my mother to describe the distress of a young child she had known at being introduced to the stranger who was her father when he returned home from the conflict.

Mum remains in good spirits and we had a few laughs, not the least when she reminded herself that I was on the phone, not actually present in her room. She had asked me whether I had had to knock on the front door to gain admittance.

Jackie reports that she has seen a couple of juvenile robins in the garden and is convinced that these will be from Nugget and Lady’s January brood; the current feeding is for a second clutch.

For this reason we enjoyed our pre-dinner drinks on the patio, waiting for Nugget. This was a little early for his arrival, but

he joined us later for dinner which, in our case, consisted of cheese centred haddock fish cakes; piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese; boiled Jersey Royal potatoes; tender green beans, and firm orange carrots, with which I finished the Rheinhessen and Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc.

This was the Assistant Photographer’s attempt at pairing a blue tit and a robin.

Vacuuming

This was a day of fleeting sunshine, pelting showers, and gusting gale force winds.

So far I am still wearing sandals with no socks. This is because I always continue with this footwear as long as possible; and because it remains difficult to don shoes and socks. When answering the door to a neighbour I managed to drag the front door across the big toe of the more recently operated leg. The ensuing gash – and Jackie – suggested it was time I reverted to more sensible footwear.

Fortunately this morning Jackie and Nugget were able to manage a certain amount of planting – when

the little familiar wasn’t getting under the Head Gardener’s feet.

As usual, Nugget would occasionally zip up to a level at which he felt more equal in stature.

“Where’s Nugget?” (37)

This afternoon we drove to the bank at Lymington where we completed the forms for adding Jackie jointly to my account. Next call was at Ferndene Farm Shop where we acquired three more bags of compost.

We continued into the forest, where, on Burley Road, trees bore increasingly autumnal foliage,

as, less so, did those of Burbush Farm.

Ponies at Thorney Hill seemed to be waiting patiently for

pigs, clad in their own autumn best, making their way along the verges snuffling and sloshing about their business of vacuuming up the acorns for their equine neighbours’ culinary comfort.

This evening we dined on fish cakes – one Thai flavoured with Jackie’s savoury rice, the other cod and parsley with Duchess potatoes; piquant cauliflower cheese, crunchy carrots, and tender runner beans with which The Culinary Queen drank Blue Moon and I finished the Malbec.

Vichyssoise Pour Les Poneys

Although it was to brighten up in the evening, the skies were overcast when we went for a drive in the forest this afternoon.

We stopped at East Boldre to watch this chestnut pony slaking its thirst, as we thought, at one of the pools formed over waterlogged vegetation. This was taking some time. Slowly it dawned on me that the animal was in fact dining on its favourite vegetation. Occasionally coming up for air, liquid streamed from its muzzle as it chomped on the green stuff. This, it seemed, was vichyssoise for the ponies.

Opposite the corner of the East Boldre road and St Leonards Road stands what looks like a refurbished historic thatched house. In fact, Tom Whiteley Bespoke Homes has spent just a few months building this from scratch. We thought the brick extension, contemporary with the rest of the job, was a stroke of genius.

The corner opposite this house also bears an extensive covering of water. Another bay enjoyed its own helping of the soup.

Elizabeth joined us for dinner which consisted of Jackie’s delicious sausage casserole; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; and tender green beans. Before that we enjoyed her vegetable soup with croutons. Elizabeth drank Beck’s Blue; Jackie drank Hoegaarden; and I drank Juicy Assemblage 2017.

Angel Lane

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. SHOULD YOU WISH TO ENLARGE THE CAR LOAD OF BEDDING PLANTS, JUST CLICK ON IT AND REPEAT IF REQUIRED

This morning Jackie drove me to the GP surgery at Milford on Sea to collect a blood test result which, along with a questionnaire I then posted, in the pillar box featured yesterday, to UCH Hospital in London. The material is part of a follow-up survey after my metal-on-metal hip replacement nine years ago. Problems have surfaced from this method. I have none. The blood test is normal and requires no action.

Because of the number of comments I have received complimenting the work of the Milford WI, and in order to show the ladies yesterday’s post, I visited the Community Centre in search of a member to whom I could give a blog card. The volunteer running the café this morning was ‘Tricia, who had helped set up the exhibition at 7 a.m. on Saturday morning. Naturally we had an enjoyable conversation and she asked for four cards which I was happy to hand over.

We chose the somewhat circuitous Angel Lane route to Milford. The sunlight streamed across the narrow, steeply undulating lane, which made for several interesting head-on encounters, mostly with commercial vehicles in a hurry.

Bluebells, cow parsley, and other wild flowers lined the verges; to the left lay private fields, some carpeted with buttercups, one warning us to keep out; to the right a public footpath had been barred off – not an unusual sight in this area.

Bedding plants

We then drove to Hockey’s Farm Café for brunch and returned via Ferndene Farm Shop where Jackie filled the boot of the car with bedding plants mostly destined for her hanging baskets.

This afternoon I paid the car tax fee over the phone and made an A4 print of this photograph taken 3 days ago for Helen.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away fare with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Médoc.

Her First Baby Donkey

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Although the rain has stopped, we are still enduring gale force winds. This involved us picking up branches and various other bits of debris.

Elizabeth came for the afternoon. After lunch Jackie drove us all to Hockey’s Farm at Ibsley, where the ladies enjoyed cream teas and I drank sparkling water.

At the farm, larger than average donkeys shared a field with the alpacas.

Part of the complex is an attractive thatched house,

by the side of which lie a pair of antique ploughshares.

Seated at one of the tables whilst her companion visited the café, a woman engaged in conversation with her dog.

The back door of the café looked out onto the scene.

Elizabeth photographed me at our table. Later we cropped it to produce an up-to-date WP profile picture.

A Milky Way of mushrooms outside Hyde

prompted Elizabeth later to photograph a puffball growing in the gravel of our Shady Path.

At Frogham, my sister was delighted to encounter her ‘first baby donkey’,

seen blackberrying with its mother.

Something was making the foal itch. Elizabeth created this image.

Back home we dined on Jackie’s perfect pasta arrabbiata with sugar snaps. Elizabeth and I finished the malbec, whilst Jackie drank Hoegaarden.

Afterwards, Elizabeth and I examined our photographs.

P.S. See Paol’s comment below for correct information on the old ploughs

Spectral Ponies

CLICK ON CLUSTERED, SMALLER, IMAGES TO ACCESS LARGER GALLERIES.

This morning we brunched in a very crowded Otter Nurseries restaurant before driving to Emery Down, Bolderwood, and back home.

As with many New Forest villages, the approach to Emery Down from Swan Green is quintessentially English.

We have a row of tiny thatched cottages in which I could not stand upright, and a larger thatched house, opposite the green

flanking the uphill stretch of an undulating road, one of the warning signs of which bears the image of a pony. Level with the gate in this picture is a cattle grid. Both gate and grid are designed to keep those ponies on the far side.

The garden of the house benefits from our Indian summer;

no self-respecting one in this area, except, that is, for ours, is without its bank of nerines,

not all accompanied by pink shrub roses.

Turning left in Emery Down the forest road goes through Bolderwood. On its verges Jackie parked with her puzzle book whilst I wandered among the trees,

the leaves of which were beginning to turn rich gold and deep red.

This is also the season for mushrooms to force their way through the forest floor.

Throughout the woods can be seen shattered trunks and hollowed sawn logs from fallen trees.

At Bolderwood silent spectral ponies emerged from the shadows to graze their way across to the greener grass on the other side.

Sunlight played on the road on our return.

This evening we dined on spicy pizza and salad, followed by profiterols. I drank Basson shiraz 2014.

Afternoon In The Forest

This morning Aaron made a start on decorating the stairs and landing.

Afterwards Becky drove me, Jackie, and Ian to Abbot’s Well at Frogham, where we lunched in The Foresters’ Arms.

This was another comparatively mild day of rather more sunshine than showers, making for constantly changing light. Our accommodating daughter complied with my various requests for photography stops.

Roger Penny Way runs from Cadnam roundabout to Godshill and beyond. The first stop was to record arboreal reflections in recently formed forest pools.

At Godshill, ponies were reduced to grazing around the edges of more pools that now covered their grass patch.

Soon after Godshill we turned left and drove up to Abbots Well where we disembarked and wandered around for a while.

Other walkers soaked up the landscape.

Ian can be seen emerging from the bushes here,

where bright yellow fungus was to be found.

We lunched in The Foresters’ Arms, where the already excellent food has gone up several notches in quality since our last visit more than a year ago. My burger stack with quite the best onion rings I have ever tasted, superb chunky chips, coleslaw and salad was plentiful enough to suffice for the day’s sustenance. I drank Wadsworth’s 6X. Ian had the same opinion about the same choice of meal, and drank Kronenberg. Jackie also enjoyed her scampi and chips (small appetite size), and Becky her roast beef (kid’s portion). The two ladies shared coffee and coke.

On our return, on the way down to the ford from the pub, we passed a field containing horses that are not wild. That they were not wearing rugs is a reflection on the mild weather.

On a corner of the road stands a typically thatched house.

This time, when we passed Godshill the ponies were feeding in full sunshine.

West Kennet Long Barrow

Drawn by the extravagant breakdance being performed outside our sitting room window by the unidentified peach rose, clearly far more resilient than plastic greenhouses, I ventured outside into the wild, weirdly warming, winds with my camera.

The rose surged backwards and forwards, defying my efforts at focussing;

those in their dedicated garden, where Summertime still has a presence, were more sheltered.

Margaret Merrill, lives up to her top autumn rose billing,

and carpet rose Kent rivals the fallen beech leaves for ground cover.

With a warning of frost and maybe snow in a week’s time, it was probably apt that the batch of colour slides from December 1976 should contain snow scenes. That was a very cold winter following an extremely hot summer.

Jessica, Michael and I were staying with her parents in their beamed and thatched house in Wootton Rivers, Wiltshire.

Mark Pearson, who, had he lived, would have been my father-in-law stands here in front of his home.

The snow was not deep at this time, but there was enough to turn simple ironwork into bejewelled necklaces;

to transform branches of trees into festive yule logs;

and ploughed fields, along which Jessica and Michel walk, into scenic Christmas cake icing.

Piper joins them in this picture. The boy to the left could be Jessica’s nephew, Tim Draper.

Here, Michael trudges on after the others.

We had, then unbeknown to me, found ourselves atop West Kennet Long Barrow.

The West Kennet Long Barrow is a prehistoric burial mound near Avebury. It is one of the largest and best-preserved monuments of its kind in Britain. Only the East Kennet Barrow is longer than this one’s 100 meters. Although we did not do so, visitors,can enter the barrow and explore five empty stone chambers in which humans were buried from 3700 to 2000 BC.

In all, the bones of about 46 individuals have been found in the chambers of the barrow. It appears that bodies were buried in social groups: the west chamber was mainly for adult males; the northeast and northwest chambers for mixed adults; the southeast for the old and the southwest chamber for children.

The tombs contained numerous grave goods, including pottery of various kinds (fragments of 250 different vessels were discovered); beads made of bone, stone and shells; flint tools; and animal bones. The pottery spans a long range of time, from the Earlier to Late Neolithic periods.

I didn’t know the amount of history that lay beneath us.

This evening we dined on the last of the shepherd’s pie; extra mashed potato, a steamed cauliflower and Brussel’s sprouts, all flavour retained. Apple and raisin cake with cream was to follow.