March 23rd – Even the snow was odd today. I’ve never seen it like this before – at about 4pm it was a very fine flake, long and thin, like a tiny rod about 4-6mm long. So insubstantial, that the merest touch or breath melted it. I suppose it must be the way the water vapour and air currents formed it, but is was fascinating and beautiful.

March 23rd – I went back to Chasewater to investigate the overflow situation, and because my conscience was burning me badly. I needed to feed those poor swans. The snow still fell, and the wind was evil. This was the worst snowfall I’d seen since the early 1980s, yet I was surprised at the diversity of the a avian population I encountered. Crows, waterfowl, gulls. Pied wagtails hunted what I presume were barely visible bugs over the overflow spillway. They mingled with a small, brown sparrow-like bird I didn’t recognise. Consulting with birders online later, these cute little brown jobs with comical flight and similar feeding behaviour to the wagtails turned out to be meadow pipits, probably brought down by the snow during migration. I was fascinated by the way they clung to the spillway walls.

I needn’t have fretted about the swans, as their mum was there. The Swan Lady and her husband are legendary at Chasewater, and they feed and tend the swans, taking note of absentees and arrivals. The incongruous and greedy flock gathered round their guardians with eager and expectant joy, and much honking. Bless.

March 22nd – If you can, please visit Chasewater and feed the waterfowl on the boating lake. This mixture of ducks, swans, coots and geese are all ravenous due to the snow, cold weather and lack of benevolent visitors. The swans were so hungry, they forgot to be aggressive. I forgot to bring them food. I felt guilty, they clearly felt cheated,

Oh bugger.

March 22nd – I was in the fortunate position of being able to work from home. I watched the snow fall as I worked, and decided to spin out early afternoon. The sky was threatening, the wind still harsh, and Chasewater barren and deserted. But something significant had happened: in the last week, the lake had achieved maximum level, and was now overflowing the exit weir at the back of the Nine-Foot pool, and flowing down the spillway.

This is momentous, and marks the end of the whole sorry dam-repair saga, 3 years after it commenced. The wildlife, and environment, can now recover.

That was an adventure.

March 21st – I returned from Walsall in the beginnings of a storm of wet, heavy-flaked snow. It soaked through my jeans, and made me cold, wet and miserable, a mood not helped by the utterly relentless and unforgiving easterly headwind.

Walsall Wood church looked good in the cold night, and the lights of the new Co-op store on Streets Corner – only opened that morning – were cheering.

March 21st – I was in Birmingham late for a meeting with friends. I’d had a horrendous commute from Telford, but not as horrendous as the poor lady who fell ill on my train, resulting in paramedics being called. There but for the grace, and all that. 

I steeped into my favourite cafe for an hour, then hopped back about 9pm.  New Street Station is odd at night. Again, a slight Late Night Feelings thing,  but moreso reflections, distorted perspectives and hard surfaces. This is an utterly man-made environment. Any natural part of it is trespassing, or growing in defiance of the built environment. In the desolation of the night, I find it bleak, harsh, and quite, quite beautiful

March 20th – A day so dull, grey and lifeless that not even it’s mother could love it. As I hurried to work in the morning, it was half drizzle, half very fine snow, and bitterly cold. When I left for home, it was the same. Taking account of the wind, I came back from Shenstone, but even still, the bike felt leaden and I was tired. Things really aren’t letting up at the moment; the weather is awful and work is hard. If only the sun would shine…

Nature is holding it’s breath. The daffodils are ready to go. Nascent crops are greening up the fields. All we need are a couple of days of sun and clear air and nature will explode into action. You can almost hear it, tapping it’s foot impatiently.

I’m waiting with mother nature, too. This winter has to break soon…

March 19th – Whilst at Catshill junction admiring the cat, I noticed that Humphries House, the Brownhills tower block recently refurbished by Walsall Housing Group at no small expense, seems to have the boys in again.

It seems access cradles have been installed again on the front of the block. That must be costly. Wonder why? Anyone know?

Perhaps they’re feeding the mice…

March 19th – I was cycling back along the canal for a change. Spring must be in the air, as cats have started to be more noticeable of late. Indolent indoor wallahs in the winter, you see lots more about as the season changes. 

I spotted this fine marmalade chap drinking water from the canal at Catshill Junction, appropriately enough. Cats seem to prefer natural water to the stuff from the tap, and this must be a sign the canal is clean.

The elegant, nonchalant balance and casually draped tail are wonderful.

March 18th – A day of misty light and skyline silhouettes. My journey this morning was shrouded in a thick fog of the variety that condensed into frost on my clothes and bike, yet once on the train to Birmingham, it was as clear as a bell and sunny by Four Oaks. 

At Moor Street, the morning light was hazy and yellow. Digbeth looked beautiful as the train glided above it on the viaduct towards Small Heath.

I left work late, and caught the view from Tyseley as darkness was falling. Again, the light was lovely; the city skyline was enchanting, and the station remains fascinating in its faded, jaded, days-of-the-empire style. Down on the platform, as a high-speed intercity shot through, I really got the Late Night Feelings vibe again. 

Jewels in an otherwise awful day.