Tag: oak

  • The Bit Between Her Teeth

    Each morning at dawn, as I work on my laptop, I watch pigeons sizing each other up on the telephone cables, or atop the blighted oak on the opposite side of Christchurch Road. Later in the morning, Jackie walked into the garden to bring back photographs of her cyclamens lining the Head Gardener’s Walk. Having […]

  • Rosie Lea

    This afternoon Jackie drove Becky and me on a recce through the waterlogged forest. On another reasonably warm day, we enjoyed a little sunshine and a lot of showers. The first stop was near Wootton Bridge on the way to Brockenhurst. There we encountered expanding pools of water on the forest floor, a swollen stream, […]

  • UKCSI

    Yesterday evening’s volcanic skies, casting an ochre glow on everything beneath them, delivered just a few heavy drops of the promised overnight rain. Ushering in the month of July, today was even hotter and more humid, yet largely overcast. My early task was the dead-heading of roses, and lifting soil-filled window boxes onto the head […]

  • Blending

    Our daughter Becky is convinced that I bear a resemblance to Worzel Gummidge. As I scanned yesterday’s photograph of four year old Louisa I wondered what the wit would have to say about it. This was her Facebook observation: ‘How clever of you to include a portrait of yourself in the photo of Louisa!’ Managing […]

  • Perhaps I Am Ready For A Bus Pass

    When we arrived in Downton last year, the garden was so overgrown that, by the time we began to tidy up some of the shrubbery, many blooms had died off and we didn’t know what we were working on. We did, however, leave enough in the ground to give them chance to display their wares […]

  • A Footpath, A Carpet, And An Oak

    This morning I encased my right knee in a crepe bandage and hobbled along Hordle Lane to the footpath alongside Apple Court Garden and back. Now the leg has toothache. That’s it. My rambling will be  done in my head until further notice. The ditches are now pretty full, and pools still lie on the fields, […]

  • A Blighted Oak

    This morning began with an hilarious exchange with Becky who corrected our ageing memories over the Apple Juice story.  This necessitated amendments in the form of a postscript. The very heavy rain kindly desisted as I walked the two fords Q later on.  The sun put in enough of an appearance to set twinkling the […]

  • They Do Pick Their Moments

    Unerringly, this morning, I picked my way from the farm underpass to the Sir Walter Tyrrell and back, using a different route each time.  Almost. I was on a mission to measure the oak I had found recently.  Berry had replied to my e-mail by asking me how many hugs it was.  A hug is […]

  • All Is Right With The World

    This warm, bright, morning I walked, with a little diversion, the two underpasses route via Sir Walter Tyrrell that I had discovered three days ago. I took a different diagonal across the, in parts still waterlogged, heathland towards the inn, as usual following pony droppings as a guide.  When I saw the Rufus Stone through […]

  • No Respite

    Last night Flo went out in the dark to attempt to photograph deer on the lawn.  They barked at her. On another wet and windy morning I popped into the shop on my way to Football Green, took the back road up to Bull Lane, right into Seamans Lane, and back home via upper drive.  […]