Tag: woodland

Hotter Than Expected

This morning I worked on the next “A Knight’s Tale” post.

On this unseasonably balmy afternoon Jackie drove us up to the north of the forest, where

donkeys on the road outside Faraway Cottage caused a certain amount of traffic chaos.

My chauffeuse parked at Godshill Pit while I wandered among

dappled woodland with variously hued bracken and tree foliage.

Jackie also pictured spiky gorse, brown and green bracken; and, as I ambled along she produced an image for “Where’s Derrick?” (5)

As we passed a pair of Joggers on the road outside Hale, one, like me in my jacket, had found the day hotter than expected, prompting her to complete the peeling of her sweater.

This evening we dined on succulent pork chops served on a moist melange of leaks, peppers, and onions; boiled and roasted potatoes; flavoursome roast parsnips; crisp Yorkshire pudding, and tasty gravy with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the zinfandel.

No Intention Of Budging

This morning I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/10/10/a-knights-tale-48-the-housing-market/

This afternoon we took Jessie on a forest drive.

I stepped out on Rhinefield Road and wandered among the autumnal woodland.

Ponies at Mockbeggar basked and dozed on the green, ignoring flies;

one, claiming its right of way on the road, forced traffic, including cyclists, to take a wide berth. It had no intention of budging.

As we drove down Roger Penny Way another equine string stampeded from one side of the moorland to the other. Motorists who had not anticipated the unusually active ponies dashing across the road sped past us and screamed to a halt in order to avoid denting their vehicles.

A young female scarecrow waited beside a telephone box just outside Lyndhurst.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla where my main course was Chicken Jaljala; Jessie’s was Butter Chicken; and Jackie’s Hariali Chicken. We shared Bombay Aloo, pilau rice, and a plain Naan. The ladies each had ice creams. Jackie and I drank Kingfisher and Jessie drank Diet Coke.

A Knight’s Tale (44: A Concerned Single Father)

Woodland sunlight I noticed in the New Forest in October 13th, 2012, took me back to July 1967.  It was in a wood in Sussex that Michael and I had stopped off for a play en route to Brighton where, the summer after Vivien died, I planned a bed-and-breakfast tour of the south coast with our son.

The photograph I took of that scene could well have been captioned ‘Where’s Michael?’.  After our break we travelled on to Brighton to find a bed and breakfast establishment.  Of course we had to spend some time on the beach first.  Although the weather was hot and humid the sky was completely overcast, so I thought a short time would be safe enough.  Not so.  After 50 minutes Michael was covered in blisters which required dressing in a hospital casualty department.  The nurse there was very understanding and gentle in her explanation to this rather daft Dad that the sun can penetrate cloud cover and blonds burn more easily than people with dark hair.  That was the end of our holiday.  Michael was safer whilst I was able to receive the benefit of advice from Veronica Rivett, my future mother-in-law, with whom we then stayed.

This was the year that my little boy began Day Nursery attendance, in order to give my own mother respite from sharing herself between Michael and his Uncle Joseph, just three years older. By then I was working as an Assistant Child Care Officer in Kingston. I would travel from Kingston to Wimbledon to pick him up by 6.00 p.m.

One evening I arrived to find him missing. “Where [wa]s he?”, I asked, to be told that he had been taken to hospital because he had had a fit. No attempt had been made to contact me. No apparent knowledge of the history that had led to his admission to the nursery. Perhaps a concerned single father was beyond their ken.

I was able to collect him because he had apparently undergone infantile convulsions following a measles vaccination. There are details of this event that I can’t quite remember. My mother could probably have filled me in, but she is no longer with us.

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.

Advancing In Our Direction

After lunch Elizabeth visited to discuss a few matters relating to Mum’s funeral. This included the choice of coffin and flowers.

Later, I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/09/22/a-knights-tale-37-garrick-house/

This afternoon we took a drive into the forest.

Jackie parked beside Charles’s Lane, and I stepped out to photograph the

woodland scenes alongside.

On one side of Gorley Road at Mockbeggar the Donkey Hedge Clipping service was under way;

on the other, field horses , some with fly protection masks, were accompanied by their usual crows.

At Ibsley a donkey foal was planted on the tarmac along which advanced a cluster of ponies in our direction;

a lone cow set off to join her friends grazing across the road;

finally, the second of two further donkeys we were forced to follow was decidedly pregnant.

This evening we dined on a Red Chilli takeaway meal consisting of Saag Bhaji, Paneer Tikka, Special Fried Rice, Plain Paratha; Saag Chicken, and Naga Chilli Chicken, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Fleurie, which involved opening another bottle.

Hawthorn Berry Time

On our way to Elizabeth’s home for a family gathering we stopped at the the now virtually dry Pilley lake.

The two opposite views I have been tracking through the year demonstrate that the bed is now virtually dry. The second contains

hawthorn berries.

two transverse views demonstrate the expanse of this;

no animals today sought shelter in the dappled woodland on the far side.

We spent the afternoon and early evening at my sister’s with other sister Jacqueline, brother Joseph and his wife Angela, and sister-in-law Frances, reminiscing about life, death, and shared history. A distribution of Mum’s labelled presents also took place. There were a few that we had not yet already received. I will feature them tomorrow.

Elizabeth, Jacqueline, and Angela had produced a fine spread of salad, sandwiches, and cake, which we enjoyed with a little rosé wine, beer, tea and coffee.

Behind The Scenes

I began another gloomy-looking day by printing a batch of photographs for my sister, Jacqueline, including

this one of her son, my nephew James and his son Shay at Michael and Heidi’s wedding on 5th October 1991.

Our blogging friend Carolyn began a comment on “Her Autumn Garden” with

a poem which I printed for Jackie to stick on her fridge. She photographed both it and a series of behind the scenes locations.

From the east front gate we see the Head Gardener’s Shed, greenhouse, and

potting up station where, perched on her kneeler she fills containers in the wheelbarrow from the fresh compost bags.

Behind the shed various implements are stored, and beside it potted items await their permanent homes.

Plants in need of more nurturing begin their lives in the greenhouse, also seen

beside the wisteria arbour.

Accessed from the west gates beside the house

the front garden contains a strengthened arch.

Later, we shopped at Otter Nurseries for Sharp Sand, pansies, and a hose attachment; posted Jacqueline’s photographs from Everton Post Office; and continued for a short forest drive.

Attracted by a fallen giant at Lucy Hill, I disembarked and scrambled into the

woodland where earlier casualties were in the process of being absorbed into last autumns leaves on the forest floor or draped in undergrowth to aid their decomposition and provide winter quarters for various insects and other small creatures;

and bracken was beginning to shrivel and turn golden brown.

Ever perverse, the sun waited for me to return to the Modus before sending weak streaks across the fallen leaves and silhouetting trees opposite.

Finally Jackie pointed out a door in a tree trunk behind which a Hobbit may have set up home.

This evening we enjoyed our second helpings of yesterday’s Chinese takeaway with which Jackie drank more of the Pinot Grigio and I drank Chevalier de Fauvert Comte Tolosan Rouge 2019.

A Gentle Snow Plough

This morning I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2021/08/31/a-knights-tale-25-a-papal-honour/

By mid-afternoon the earlier Stygian gloom had lifted enough for us to drive to Puttles Bridge and back after buying another, larger, bag of tree bark mulch.

With barely a ripple the now very shallow Ober Water could hardly be said to flow under the bridge.

The root trip hazards, often framing pools of water, are now bone dry.

Two or three families were frolicking in what was left of the stream flanked by dappled woodland devoid of the usual mini-pools. I enjoyed a pleasant conversation with the mother in the first of these pictures, whose son, while manoeuvring a small dinghy, was heard to say “It’s not deep enough”. I told his Mum I had never heard that before.

Ponies, including a large foal, grazed beside the road.

A child had hopped home with one shoe.

Chips fell from a fallen tree.

On our return through Brockenhurst, a Highland cow, with its cumbersome rocking gait, lumbered among the patient vehicles.

Among the multicoloured heather on the moorland beyond the town, other, tail-swishing, ponies with another foal clinging to its mother, grazed or took their ease.

Two remained obdurately planted in the road until a tour bus, like a gentle snow plough, proceeded to shift them.

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork; boiled new potatoes; crisp Yorkshire pudding; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; moist sautéed peppers, mushrooms, and onions; and tasty gravy, with which Jackie drank more of Pino Grigio Blanc and I drank more of the Faugeres.

My Little Snipper

Today was one allegedly expected to enjoy intermittent sunshine. In reality this was more intermittent than sunshine.

We were conned by a bright start into taking an early drive to Puttles Bridge. In the event this was definitely intermittent.

Three-way traffic lights control gave me plenty of time to contemplate the verges on the side of the A337.

Watching a foal trot purposely across the low-flowering sward at the corner of Rhinefield and Meerut Roads at Brockenhurst I was surprised to see it latch onto a mare of rather different colouring. Equine genes in our neighbourhood seem to follow quite random routes.

P.S. I have received this very useful information from our good friend Carole: ‘Hi Derrick – couldn’t resist a little further equine info – ref your blog! In your pic, the foal is a pale chestnutty colour suckling from a slate grey coloured mother. Baby will end up grey too, and the older the adult, the whiter they gradually become. So you get the lovely dapple grey  look at around the age of 8-9 years old, gradually fading. I had 2 Arab horses. The first was born bay (brown body, black mane & tail) & the second was born chestnut (tail same colour as body more or less). In both instances Mum was grey. Both babies became grey as they grew to be 2-3 years old. Very dark grey at first, the bay baby had a slate grey mane & tail even when her body colour got paler & the chestnut foal had a white mane & tail as an adult. So not surprising you were surprised! Glad you had a good birthday! Xx’

She followed this with: ‘Three photos of my Tammy – as a foal, a young adult and a 10!year old – starts a chestnut, becomes dappled, ends up white xx’

The terrain alongside the shallow, clear, yet treacly, bubbling burbling, rippling, fast flowing, Ober Water was mostly fairly soggy and gathering reflecting pools, although beside the well-drained banks exposed lacy-veined roots writhed around water-eroded soil.

Aided by the recent winds, rose Doris Tysterman has stretched herself across the drive. Later this afternoon we righted her and tied her to one of our old stumps. I dug out three brambles while we were at it.

The pocket dead heading tool Shelly gave me yesterday came in handy. There are many more examples of this piece of equipment on Google.

This evening we dined on spicy Thai fish cakes garnished with onion rings; piquant cauliflower cheese; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; and tender runner beans, with which Jackie finished the Rosé d’Anjou and I started the very smooth Signargues Cotes du Rhone Villages 2020, which Shelly had also brought yesterday.

Frozen

I begin with this picture of Jackie’s, down the Brick Path, which I unfortunately omitted yesterday. Mea culpa.

We received a fair bit of rain overnight, but today was dry, if pretty cool, with intermittent sunny periods blown along by stiff breezes.

Our morning began with a trip to Tesco where Jackie carried out the shopping, then wheeled it to the car in a trolley, and I helped unload it into the Modus, after having read a little more of David Copperfield. I then unloaded it at home before my Chauffeuse took us on a forest drive.

During one of the duller spells we drove down Lower Pennington Lane where fresh cow parsley; burgeoning blackberry blossom; and carpets of yellow flowers dotted the fields and hedgerows beneath lowering skies. An inquisitive goat peered through a farm fence.

Looking across to the Isle of Wight we could see Hurst lighthouse and castle, distant walkers, and hang gliders welcoming the wind.

As we pulled into Longslade Bottom car park I was intrigued by voices emanating from the undergrowth. Upon inspection I met three friendly women seated on folding chairs enjoying the shelter.

Dog walkers shared the grassy slopes with ponies. By and large they were respectful of each other.

Then along came a gentleman with two dogs on leads. A small brown one barked a lot. It was loosed. It carried on barking at the ponies. Fortunately they ignored it.

I was also let loose on Bisterne Close where I photographed the woodland and its trees, lichen, moss, and fresh ferns.

A squirrel, racing between trees froze, listened, then sped on. It was so kind of it to pause for the photographer.

A young buck in a field of yellow flowers was quite unfazed by my presence.

More ponies stood among the gorse in the moorland alongside Holmsley Passage.

This evening we dined on a rack of ribs in barbecue sauce; Jackie’s delicious egg-fried rice; and tender green beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Rioja.