Tag: 365daysofbiking

August 6th – Riding back through Walsall on a warm summer evening, you realise this is the best time of year to see it; the trees around Hatherton Street, Lichfield Street and the poncily named ‘Civic Quarter’ are absolutely wonderful. People run Walsall down as being dirty, post-industrial and architecturally barren, but it’s one of the greenest pieces of urban landscape I’ve ever seen.

Beneath these trees, a town lives and breathes. 

If you don’t believe me, get somewhere high, like the New Art Gallery or St. Matthews steps on Church Hill, and look out. Walsall is a green oasis.

August 5th – Another saying my Grandfather used to use a lot was ‘It’s always a good year for something.’ On this, the old man – who lived life much more connected to nature than I – was bang on. Every year, every season, is detrimental to something and benificial to something else.

This year we have an absolute wealth of early blackberries. They, sycamore,  horse chestnut and beech appear to have done very well indeed. Oak and fruit seem to have had a very bad year. This is the first acorn I’ve seen – last year, the boughs were heavy with crab apples, damsons, cherries and acorns. This year, very few. Rowan, Hawthorn and cotoneaster seem to be doing reasonably well, though.

I guess it’s just how the weather falls. One late frost and the fruit crops are ruined…

August 5th – Grove Hill, Stonnall, on the way to work, just past dawn. Granddad used to say ‘Mackerel sky, 24 hours dry.’ On this, his rule of thumb is generally right.

This pagan place was beautiful, and despite running close to time (as ever), I stopped to capture it.

A morning like this sets you up for the day.

August 3rd – Chasewater itself was gorgeous. From the honeybees busy on the knapweed, which looks so very like thistles, to the thistles themselves, which are now doing the seeding thing. Amphibious bistory dabbles the western edge of the lake, and the north heath looked gorgeous.

We’re so lucky to have this nearby.

August 3rd – Still laying off the long rides for the sake of my sore foot, I had to run some errands and get some shopping in – so I headed on a sunny, but windy afternoon to Morrisons at Burntwood.

A lovely day, for sure – and the harvest at Home Farm, Sandhills, had started, but the wheat still wasn’t ripe enough. Hopefully, it will be before the next lot of rains midweek…

August 2nd – Still treating my injured foot with care, I took in a lazy loop of Brownhills and bimbled over to Chasewater, then back down the canal. It was a gorgeously sunny late afternoon, and after the heavy rains of the morning, all the greenery looked splendidly fresh.

In the space of 20 minutes, I admired the mature trees on The Parade, enjoyed the shimmer of Chasewater and watched spellbound as a wakeboarder practised his jumps. I also spotted the best garden chair-hammock thing ever, in a limpid, green arcadia beside the quiet, clear waters of the canal.

Don’t ever tell me there isn’t beauty in this place.

August 2nd – I suspect you readers might be getting fed up with my obsession with swans, but with several local broods this year it’s made me more aware of these fascinating birds and their habits.

This afternoon, the Catshill brood – still at an impressive seven plus mum and dad – were on the canal between Catshill Junction and the Pier Street bridge, just to the rear of Lindon Drive.

They were doing something I never knew that swans would do – they were eating blackberries from brambles growing at the canal side. The youngsters were positively devouring the fruit.

I never knew they ate such things. 

When they realised I was watching, they regrouped, and headed off.

August 1st – My return journey was weary, wet, grey and warm. Again, it felt like being in the gust from a hair-drier, so warm was the breeze. It was raining steadily, and having popped in to Brum, I returned from Shenstone down quiet, greasy country lanes, dodging a whole host of slippery hazards in waiting, now hydrated. 

I note most of the harvest is done here, but for a couple of fields. In the UK, I guess it pays not to dither, and as I was waiting at Shire Oak I reflected on the wonderful unreliability of the great British weather.