tractors – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (129: Waiting On Barbados Part Two)

Here is a selection from a swimming trip in the waters of Port St Charles harbour:

Louisa just had to join the turtles, like pebbles washed by tidal waters, the colours of their carapaces brightly contrasting with their natural element which reflected the skies above.

In this last picture, Jessica’s toes curl at top left.

On my ramblings around Barbados in May 2004, some of the local people, who called me ‘the white man who walks’, thought I wasn’t quite right in the head, especially as I had a tendency to set off around mid-day.

On one occasion this proved to be quite happy for the photographer in me when I was able to watch the sugar cane being harvested.

It was the approach of this loaded lorry that alerted me to what was going on.

Here was the cane to be cut before collecting;

and, further on, containers loaded beside stripped fields.

Tractors were employed to load the vehicles;

after which, were this elderly couple engaged in gleaning? I must say I felt for them labouring under the overhead sun.

Jean-François_Millet_-_Gleaners_-_Google_Art_Project_2

They put me in mind of Jean-Francois Millet’s painting ‘The Gleaners’, which caused such a stir at the Paris Salon in 1857.

A Knight’s Tale (116: A Ploughing Contest)

On the misty morning of 26th September 1992 I produced a set of photographs of a ploughing contest in Southwell in Nottinghamshire. I could not find the negatives, so I scanned the prints. These images were in such good condition that I had no adjustments to make.

Most of the contestants were very skilfully handling horse-drawn ploughs. The powerful animals were splendidly tacked.

Those tractors that were in operation were not as well-equipped as those of today.

The Abbey Life cart became stuck in the mud. Watching the efforts to free it, I thought it unfortunate that all the heavy horses were otherwise engaged.

Jessica, Michael & Heidi, Ploughing contest 26.9.92 013

Jessica, Michael, and Heidi could be seen in the sparse distant crowd, and nearer at hand.

Woodland Ecology

After lunch today I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/09/23/a-knights-tale-38-girls/

The day remained largely overcast, but reasonably warm, so, after a trip to Ferndene Farm Shop we took a drive among the forest lanes.

I am not sure what these tractors were doing alongside Preston Lane, but they were sending up clouds of dust.

We can never normally stop on the A35 to Lyndhurst, but, as a consequence of extensive bridge widening works near Holmsley, there are long tailbacks enabling me to photograph the adjacent woodlands from my window.

We turned left into the road to Burley where

Jackie parked the Modus in order for me to wander into the woodland

with its green and golden bracken, its live, dead, fallen, and decaying trees, and its magical views.

Later, I scanned three more of Charles Keeping’s illustrations to ‘Our Mutual Friend’, each one bearing recognisable portraits of characters previously depicted.

‘Wegg held the will tight, while Venus searchingly and attentively read it’

‘The darkness gone, and a face bending down’

‘Bella kissed her on the cheek’

This evening we dined on second helpings of our Red Chilli takeaway, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Fleurie.

A Ploughing Contest

Yesterday’s ploughing reminded me of that misty morning of 26th September 1992 when I took a set of photographs of a ploughing contest in Southwell in Nottinghamshire. I could not find the negatives, so I scanned the prints. These images were in such good condition that I had no adjustments to make.
Most of the contestants were very skilfully handling horse-drawn ploughs. The powerful animals were splendidly tacked.
Those tractors that were in operation were not as well-equipped as Roger’s modern one from yesterday.
The Abbey Life cart became stuck in the mud. Watching the efforts to free it, I thought it unfortunate that all the heavy horses were otherwise engaged.

Jessica, Michael, and Heidi could be seen in the sparse distant crowd, and nearer at hand.
Backtracking a further 21 years in my slide collection, I traced a couple of out of focus photos of Becky in the original mob cap mentioned yesterday. This prototype was trimmed with lace from Jackie’s wedding dress. Here is the most acceptable image:
Sam, The Lady Plumber, came this morning and fitted new taps and hoses to the guest bathroom, and fixed the shower to the wall. She confirmed that the freestanding bath in our en suite room should be fixed to the floor, which it isn’t. Now we have an unblocked shower, we are unlikely to climb into it again. Apart from the two occasions mentioned on 24th April, this has never been used. It is free to anyone who would like it. Sam is quick, efficient, pleasant, and careful with your money.
Having this morning established that I had, indeed, begun to unearth a complete row of concrete slabs yesterday, I set to and extracted a few more today. The future rose garden is looking more and more like a building site. Removing all the unwanted materials will be a long. slow, process.
As she was scraping earth from a building block that had been buried several inches down, Jackie disturbed a drowsy newt, hiding in a crevice. Very, very gingerly, she cleaned up the stone, and, with a trowel, transferred her amphibian friend to the side of one of our tiny ponds. She took the photographs herself.
Later this afternoon we bought a new shower head and flexible hose, from City Plumbing in New Milton, for the shower Sam had worked on, and went on to Curry’s at Christchurch to order a Kenwood dishwasher, the fitting of which will be our plumber’s next assignment.
It was, of course, Jackie who attached the shower head. Sadly, the Mapperly family will not be able to avail themselves of this facility tomorrow, because they all have bad colds and need to defer their visit.
This evening we dined at our local pub, The Royal Oak. I enjoyed possibly the best sirloin steak ever in an hostelry, whilst Jackie chose her favourite butterfly chicken. My dessert was apple crumble served in a cup with a jug of custard to dispense when you had made room for it. It was delicious. Jackie also enjoyed her Mississippi mud pie. She drank peroni and I drank an excellent rioja.

Autumn Approaches

Seated in the arbour this morning I was struck by the bright colour change of the Cayratia thompsonii against the garage wall. Yellow-green was making way for bright red.

On September 22nd. I published a photograph of a seed-like object, asking for readers to identify it. On the picnic table this morning we found evidence that it was edible and contained enough roughage to facilitate immediate evacuation.

Jackie and I drove to Cheriton for lunch at the Flower Pots Inn, still wishing to sample the meals we had been denied yesterday. We were so struck by the scene in a tapestry of undulating fields en route that we stopped and watched vast numbers of seagulls flying in the wake of two ploughing tractors. That great French philosopher, Eric Cantona, would no doubt have been most impressed. Further on along Salt Lane we came to a standstill rather than disperse the meeting of female pheasants that was taking place in the middle of the road. No doubt they were discussing the respective merits of their beaux who were foraging in the adjacent field. Slowly becoming aware of our presence they proudly stepped aside, taking all the time they needed.

Food at the Inn was very well cooked, albeit not wide-ranging in choice. I opted for beef and ale hot-pot which was served with either bread or rice. Spying a couple of women tucking into plates containing appetising chips I asked if I could have some. ‘We don’t do chips’, was the reply. ‘Oh, I thought I could see some over there’, said I. ‘You can, but you can only have them with sausages and beans. We don’t do separate portions. It clogs up the kitchen,’ responded the barman. Since Jackie and I and the two women were the only diners this seemed a bit unfriendly to me. Jackie was very happy with her baked potato with prawn filling and salad. The Pail ale was excellent and Jackie enjoyed her Stella. The service was pretty disinterested and I did not get the impression that new customers were to be encouraged. The two women, except at a couple of points when they lowered their voices in a confidential manner, spoke in voices so loud that they must have considered everyone else, namely us, wished to listen. We certainly had no option. There was a very different sense about these raised voices than there had been yesterday in The Farmer’s Home when one member of the party was clearly hard of hearing.

This evening Jackie and I dined at Eastern Nights. She drank Bangla and I imbibed Cobra.