February 25th – Passing through Mill Green on the way to Sutton early. The sun was up, but there was an ethereal mist and a cold, frosty feel to the countryside.

A beautiful start to the day – I’m full of cold, and should really have stayed home today, but if I had, I’d have missed this. And that would have been a tragedy.

february 24th – Another interesting thing about spring is the colours of the dusk. Tonight, quick shots as I rode home; a gentle indigo in Birchills, soft orange in Pleck and deep, deep blue at Clayhanger.

Winter feels nearly through now. I’m really enjoying the outdoors again. This is what I’ve missed. Light, air and colour.

February 24th – Darlaston is changing right now. In its parks – Victoria and Kings Hill – spring his here, and the first signs of a green summer are just seeping into the landscape. Daffodils, crocuses, primroses and snowdrops dapple the lawns and beds, and everything seems just a shade more alive.

I actually saw a honeybee today. It’s not yet March.

In the parks though, the peace is uneasy; a susurration of labouring diesel engines, the whine of hydraulics and the rupturing of concrete as nearby, the land the old Servis factory stood on is reclaimed for new housing. So much concrete on site to be pulverised, an army of fascinating machinery is working away at it.

Change is good. Chase is interesting. But the change for the greener lifts me the most.

February 23rd – After a bloody awful day that started well enough but slid rapidly downhill mid-afternoon, I just wanted to get home. I was cold, I hadn’t had enough to eat and I felt lower than a snake’s knees. 

I hauled myself up the hill from Pleck as I didn’t trust my judgement on the ring road this evening, and rolled liquid through the centre of Walsall. Cutting down Darwall Street to pop something in the post, I was caught up short by the view. The bus station, the lights, something about it. 

I was so cold, I didn’t stop again. Some times, you just have to keep on moving.

February 22nd – Dat moon. I first spotted it when I was coming home late along the ring road in Walsall – large and full, it doesn’t seem like five minutes since it was a new crescent, which I suppose means this year will pass very quickly.

I liked the contrast of the electric, traffic-choked urban night and the ancient light of the moon. 

February 21st – Today, I saw an old familiar, I thought was lost – the white domestic goose from Chasewater with the bump it’s head. Originally part of a cohort of six kept as guards for the boatyard at Ogley Junction, they were cast into the wild when the yard closed. Living on the canal by the Chemical for a few years, two were lost, presumably to the local fox’s belly. When the Chemical was redeveloped, the geese moved to the main lake at Chasewater, where they lived seemingly contentedly amongst the Canada geese and swans.

One bird was lost to the cold in 2013, and another disappeared last year; for a couple of months now I’ve only seen the one, and assumed this bird was lost, but today I saw it preening by the waterspouts club.

The flock would be probably over ten years old now, and it shows in their eyes – these are venerable birds. Truculent, permanently cross and hostile to anything that didn’t give them food, they were hard to like. But I’ve always loved them. Such pure, white plumage, always tidy birds who knew their mind.

I hope they see another summer, and feel the warm sun on their backs once more.

February 21st – Another grim, grey and periodically wet day that had started reasonably well, but by the time I was able to escape, had descended into grey intemperance. I headed out to Chasewater and found the water level still rising, but the place was largely deserted and the lake very choppy indeed. This place was hostile today.

The only bright thing here was the gorse, which is strongly in flower all around the park. Such vivid, bright yellow. A real joy.

February 20th – A foul, grey and wet day hemmed me in and I only left the house to get some shopping in. While out, I looped up the canal and back to town; it was dark, desolate and windy and I found the experience particularly joyless. 

I did find cheer, however, in the bike on the back of the narrowboat moored at Siler Street, which seemed made to measure to fit in place, and for the waterside grotto at the back of the houses on Lindon Drive which seemed like the ideal place to chill out on a more temperate evening. 

A lot of thought has clearly gone into that little sanctuary.