August 12th – I didn’t find the deer, and it started to rain. But these guys really did cheer me up – the Chasewater North Heath coos. They were moving off the low heath up into the scrub for shelter I think, and didn’t give a toss who they held up, which is exactly how it should be. Their nosiness, and gentle inquisition charmed me as it always does, and I cycled on with a smile on my face.
Well done, lads. Mission accomplished.
August 12th – I was hoping to snap out of it. I certainly felt better today; the cramps eased and I did more of what I had to do. But the early, end of summer blues really had me around the neck. It’s ridiculous really.
But this is the problem with having a good summer. You get used to it and feel that it might never end.
I took a spin to Chasewater to see if I could find some wildlife to cheer me up. I failed.
I noticed on the way that the rolling hills to Hammerwich were, after the vivid yellow of spring’s oilseed rape flowering, the gold of high summer and brown hot harvest, now… green. The rain on the stubble in the last couple of days must have really stimulated a bolt of growth. Stunning, really.
I was impressed by the two sunflowers growing near Chasewater Dam, though, just on the south shore. They must have germinated from bird seed.
Now they did cheer me right up!
August 11th – On the Black Path, it felt like autumn. On the canal it rained like autumn.
I hope the sun comes back soon. I feel bereft.
August 11th – It’s silly, I know. I’m being ridiculous. I’m aware that it’s just my overreaction to the sudden lack of sunshine. But today, I was sad. I was ill with the IBS and I was pining for summer, for in the gloom which would, in any other year be normal, I started to pine for summer.
It’s ridiculous. I feel deep down like summer has ended and that’s it.
I took a short circuit round Brownhills, late. The rain came on heavily. For once, being out made me sad, not happy. The greyness had flooded into me. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up and sleep.
The brightness was there, though: In the poisonous white bryony in the hedge at Home Farm, Sandhills, and in the yellow water flowers near Newtown.
But even they couldn’t lift me. I went home, listened to sad music and went to bed early.
August 10th – Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of the King of Kings Hill when it was raining mid day.
However, when the sun was out, as I was coming home, normal ruling duties had been resumed, and the serious pursuit of nap time continued.
August 10th – The first ride in rain for what seemed like months took me into Walsall mid day. Refreshing, warm, sweet rain. The noise of it rang like music on the canal, and for once, I didn’t mind getting wet. The birds seemed to appreciate it, and the plants were, of course, waiting weeks for this moment.
The roses at Bentley Bridge looked superb.
I was fascinated to note nearby too the odd double-headed reedmace, which I’ve never seen before.
A welcome change, but I do hope the sun returns soon.
August 9th – Kings Hill Park is looking very weather- worn at the moment. At the beginning of the hot spell, the planters were cleared for new flowers, but it was clearly felt that planting out new bedding plants might be a waste in the heatwave, so since early summer we’ve had to be content with the noble greens and golds of a hot, dry season.
This little oasis is still beautiful however, and a welcome refuge from the hectic day at work, providing me with a nearby place where I can take five, rest and enjoy peace and quiet.
It’s a lovely little park, whatever the season or time of year.
August 9th – The herons are still ubiquitous on the local canals and it’s not hard to see why; the numbers of fish these quiet, urban waterways are host to now is quite amazing – you see shoals of them surfacing and for the comedically shabby, grey expert fishers these must be good times indeed.
This one who seemed fairly elderly was clearly annoyed at me disturbing the catch of the day, and continually flew away, only to land 20 yards further up the towpath and have to move again as I pressed onward to work.
I’ll never understand why herons do that.
August 8th – The rain came in Redditch just as I boarded the train back, and I thought it was probably in for the afternoon. I was however wrong, it seems to have been a narrow band of rain that passed the conurbation, and it approached me once more as I rode back from Shenstone. It caught me in the lanes.
The rain was sweet, warm and enjoyable when it came, following skies that would surely have won an Oscar for best supporting performance.
What wasn’t so great however was that one more, with insufficient rain to wash it away, the roads became greasy, slippery and soppy with the road debris and wash down.
It pains me to say it but we need heavy and prolonged rain to clear this away.
August 8th – Unusually, I was in Redditch visiting a supplier and despite the (currently rare) overcast day, I was reminded of what gorgeous, surprising corners the new town has.
Redditch gets a lot of stick – much of it deserved – for dull planning and generally being a product of postwar urban design; but where it works – Lick the respectfully preserved Church Green or the gorgeous Arrow Valley Country Park, with the time hamlet of Ipsley preserved within – it’s rather wonderful.
I actually like this place a lot. There, I said it.
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