Wagons Ho!

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Beginning with roseraie de l’Hay, Jackie and I continued our work in the Rose Garden by bashing stakes into the ground and tying the stems to them. Brambles are very sneaky when they send their deep roots down beside roses. The worst of these, masquerading as ¬†the rose, had to be dug out with a trowel and great care.

Rosa gallica, here fronted by Laura Ford, also needed a lengthy stake;

 shorter ones sufficed for Lady Emma Hamilton and Festive Jewel.

Laura Ford, standing between roseraie de l’Hay and rosa gallica,

had produced a rambling sport which we needed to remove from its cultivated host. New varieties are produced by grafting onto the wild rose stock. A tendency to revert to the original produces what is called a sport. This dog rose looks wonderful when flung over a hedgerow, but rather detracted from our plantings.

It probably envied Ballerina her gleeful dance celebrating her freedom to roam.

This afternoon we transported two large orange bags of garden clippings to the Efford Recycling Centre, then went for a drive in the forest.

Sometimes we do find ourselves admiring cyclists who tackle the slopes with such splendid effort.

Here was another at Burley, climbing the hill above The Queen’s Head.

Walkers were also doing well with this.

We, on the other hand, were enjoying a drink in the front garden of the pub. Katherine Parr was the sixth wife of King Henry VIII, and the only one to survive him. It is, we think, her portrait that adorns the inn sign. (See Lord Beeri’s comments below. He is right to put the finger on Lady Jane Gray)

Strike out the first two guesses. Becky, in her comment below, has come up with the definitive answer, from https://www.royalcollection.org.uk/collection/404444/elizabeth-i-when-a-princess.

From this point we noticed the dragon on the roof of A Coven of Witches, thus combining the two myths upon which the prosperity of this village is built.

Even the Art Shop has a scary window.

We had stopped here because we could see that a Burley Wagon Ride was about to get under way.

On the approach to the car park, a tree was cut down some years ago. Someone obviously carved the name of the village into the stump. Only three and a half letters remain.

No forest drive would be complete without at least one pony mooning in the middle of the road.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s deliscious chiken tikka, mushroom and onion rice topped with an omelette, and onion bahjis  She drank Peroni and I drank Isla Negra merlot 2016.