Today, I drove around some (I am getting the hang of it, though the drive up to Stratford Upon Avon on Tuesday scares me just a bit.) and only got lost sort of. I made it to Brockenhurst in good order, but coming back I took a wrong turn and wound up in the Lymington High Street, which was crowded and full of traffic. The good news is that I made it through and found a place to turn around and came back just fine. My body is getting the hang of how the roads work, though. I love the little zippy Lupo. It goes zippy zoom! beep beep! It parks in pockets and you can K-turn on a dinner plate! If you get a flat you can carry it home!
If they sold them in America I would buy one in a heartbeat. On the other hand, it'd get squished by a Ford Incursion in a heartbeat.
Still. Zippy zoom!
Anyway, I stopped in the New Forest, for a walk, and a good thing I did it before the rain started thumping down. I tramped up the heath and saw the New Forest ponies.
Gorse is very much taller than I thought it might be. And greener. Also, it has prettier flowers. And reminds me of tamarisk, though they are nothing alike except in being tall and green. Something about the way the gorse moves in the wind. Tamarisk is very feathery. And gorse is not. But they toss kind of the same when the wind hits them.
So I saw, oh, lots (~6-8) bay ponies, and a sorrel and a blue roan and a very preggers piebald. (So preggers you could see her hide between the hair at the back of her belly) And a nearly-black who kept thinking that maybe if she came over to me she would get her face scratched, but wasn't sure enough of my intentions. They're much chubbier than Nevada wild horses, which are lean and small, like racing greyhounds. (Not small as greyhounds; small, like greyhounds in comparison to larger dog breeds. Sheesh.) The ponies are short, but stocky and heavily built.
I can't believe they eat the gorse. I just touched it and it drew blood. And I mean, Nevada's wild burrows eat mesquite, but this is some powerful stuff.
I tried some, in solidarity.
It was bitter.
Of the loaner cats, Ezra is a black and silver/taupe agouti mackerel tabby, charming and thoughtful. Abby is a stunning calico of the dark-red-tabby-hairs mixed-with-black variety. Not defined patches, but roaning. She has eyes like cracked aquamarines; they're pale green, with rust colored stains all through them.
They have more or less decided that if I am the monkey there is, they must make do. Abby just came over and said "Make a lap, Monkey!"
She supposes I may stay.