December 19th – It may be deepest winter, but along the cycleways and towpaths there are still tenacious hips, haws and berries clinging on to sparse shrubs and trees providing food for songbirds, who seem to be devouring them now with a passion not shown in many a year.
Grandad used to say that if there was a profusion of fruit, it meant a bad winter was in store. I’m not sure about that, but the birds do seem to be stocking up for something this year.
I wonder what they know we don’t?
December 18th – While I was stuffing my face at Middleton Hall, something remarkable was happening in the sky to the west beyond the hall: a most remarkable sunset.
I watched it grow deeper and deeper over the hall lake, and then up the hill towards Wishaw. Beautiful blend of azure sky and pink-lit clouds, it was the kind of sunset that doesn’t happen too often.
So glad I was in a good place to catch this.
December 18th – A trip to Middleton Hall via Buzzards Valley for a cuppa and some cake, as well as a few card deliveries and other errands.
I was rewarded with a truly stunning sunset, but also I saw Middleton Hall and the courtyard in the dusk. It was gorgeous, and made me feel very Christmassy.
I think I’m finally getting down with the Christmas spirit…
December 17th – In Lichfield, just in the gardens by Minster Pool, this fascinating yellow shrub, just coming into flower.
I’s so bright and so beautiful, it seems a shame it’s hidden in a corner where few would notice it.
What is it, does anyone know? It’s gorgeous.
December 17th – A long sleep, then an early run to Rugeley, on a traditional pre-Christmas shopping trip. I had errand there, at Gentleshaw, Litchfield and Whittington, so I did a loop around all of them, returning just after dark.
It was a lovely day, and I enjoyed the riding and Rugeley very much. Lichfield was crowded and difficult, but I was rewarded with peace and quiet at Whittington.
Now quiet and awaiting decommissioning, Rugeley Power Station is like a sleeping giant. I’ll miss the old place when it goes.
I was intrigued by the witness on the doorway to the passed life of a creeper, which I spotted in Lichfield, and Heron house looks like a fun old place.
The sight of Ivy Cottage, looking beautiful in the dark, was gorgeous at Lower Stonnall.
That cottage is like a beacon to my soul.
December 16th – Heading back into Brownhills mid evening, the roads were oddly still busy, the traffic through the High Street heavy and challenging. Emergency vehicles came through, perhaps an accident, or perhaps just the normal buzz of life.
I was tired. It had been a long week. But a pleasant meal and evening with workmates had been enjoyable.
A weekend, and three days to go. I just need to hang in there.
December 16th – On my return from work, I hopped on the canal at Walsall Wood, and enjoyed the peaceful darkness as far as Anchor Bridge, where I switched back onto the High Street.
The canal was peaceful, silent, eerie, with only snatches of light in the darkness, my headlamp scything the night as I rode.
But riding in the dark is mentally hard work, and I hadn’t got it in me. For once, the road felt safer, so I took it.
December 15th – My life, at the moment.
Telford, late. Heavy rain, waiting for a train that was, at least, not crowded and on time. A real late night feelings moment – I particularly liked the effect of the platform lights in the rain.
Only four days to go now.
December 15th – The cotoneaster this year seems to have not been doing so well. These bright red berries, beloved of blackbirds, are normal evident in profusion along urban towpaths, footpaths and cycleways, but for some reason are heavily planted on industrial estates.
This huge bed at Moxley is normally a sea of red-orange at this time of year, with a permanent fluster of wings and beaks. But not this year; I’d say the crop is abut 30 percent of it’s normal size.
Whilst my grandfather used to say ‘it’s always a good year for something’ I guess the reverse is true and this just wasn’t the cotoneaster’s year.I hope it’s not cold otherwise the blackbirds may struggle.
December 14th – Having arrived at work, I discovered I was needed in Telford, so nothing for it, I headed for the train. At New Street, there were delays and confusion and the usual busy, frenetic chaos.
I stood at the end of the platform, wandering what I was doing there. Every signal light I could see was red.
Some days wear you out before you start.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 