Author: BrownhillsBob

I told the truth - but told it bent. Wandering around bemused and ranty since 2007.

November 21st – On the streets of Birmingham, the autumn leaves are making for a golden carpet, and as usual, however hard an army of street cleaners try, they fight a losing battle and all one can do is plough through the fallen remains of a summer past and enjoy the sounds, colour and sensation.

There is a downside, however: on urban pavers and country lanes, the leaves will mulch under foot and vehicle wheels, combine with rainwater, road oil and grease, and form a soapy, slippery wheel-stealing goop that will make riding a concentration suck for a few weeks to come.

Every season has it’s hazards.

November 20th – I’ve seen herons do many odd things in my time cycling the canals. They are distinctly eccentric birds, who clearly operate to their own rules and desires.

But I’ve never had one so determinedly turn it’s back on me before. It is absolutely, unquestionably giving me the shoulder.

I presume it’s annoyed because I disturbed a fishing session.

Well, pardon me, fishbreath…

November 20th – The last shreds of daylight, heading between Tipton and Moxley on the canal in an overcast, damp Black Country late autumn Monday. You’d think this would be depressing, but it wasn’t; despite the awful light, the drizzle and relentless oncoming darkness, fallen leaves dappled the canal. Peace reigned. There was colour fighting through the gloom. And what else?

Peace and quiet.

This’ll do. It’s not exactly winning, but it’s definitely breaking even.

November 20th – One of the joys of winter is riding in the forest at night. On the trail between Birches Valley and Fairoak, there wasn’t a soul around and I listened intently to the wildlife. In the undergrowth, mustelids and rodents scampered and scurried. A robin sang. Owls hooted and shrieked. Somewhere off in the distance, a deer stag was bellowing.

The forest at night isn’t scary or spooky – it’s beautiful and fascinating.

November 19th – A late run out on an errand to Cannock Chase saw me crossing through Heath Hayes and the former RAF Hednesford during a very decent sunset. 

Sadly, I hadn’t enough time to do it justice, but is was so very beautiful, and a real pick me up on a cold autumn evening.

November 17th – But still, some vestiges of autumn cling in in the final trees still shedding their formerly green leaves. Noticed while on an errand to Tipton, this sycamore in Ocker Hill was showing a beautiful range of colour against the bright blue frost-morning sky.

Sad, but very beautiful on such a chilly morning.

November 17th – Just after dawn, on a grass verge ion Darlaston a delicate Japanese parasol toadstool coated in what I think is the first frost of the year.

I was a real shock this morning to awake with a ground frost, and I rode carefully watching out for the old devil and adversary that is black ice, the wheel stealer.

So, it’s winter now, pretty much. The cold has come and Christmas is in sight. I’m ready. Bring it on. I’d like some real snow this year, please.

November 16th – Something I’ve not seen yet this year, on a roadside verge in central Walsall: a small fairy ring.

Speculation is rife as to how this odd little toadstools make the traditional rind or arc on lawns and short grass – some say it’s rotting tree roots that cause the to sprout, or perhaps a particular sporing pattern.

Like so much of the world of fungi, there’s far more we don’t know that that which we do.

November 15th – And back, so it was, to Shenstone, an altogether different type of late-night feeling. This is a beautiful building, in a lovely location, and a great place to leave, but even better to return to.

I love it at night, the way it’s lit, the overhead wires, the sense of an island in the darkness. A beacon, calling me toward home, just a few miles to go.

A haunting, gorgeous station.