Tag: bad weather

June 20th – It was terribly wet on my way to work this morning, and on the way back I was too knocked to go to the best spot, but lupins, for a reader who’s unwell.

I know you love them, but don’t get them where you are.

Get well soon old chap. I’ll find you some better ones in the week, promise.

June 18th – After such a wet and miserable week it was lovely to have some sunshine and a relatively warm afternoon. Whilst the damp has been very good for the foliage and crops, it’s not been nourishing my humour at all, in fact, it’s been a very difficult period in which to stay positive.

Today’s ride, however, dispelled my gloom. Sights like this beautiful hay meadow in the Blackbrook Valley at Hints were enchanting, and the sun on my face was lifting.

You can be disillusioned with a British summer, and would be fully justified in being down – but there’s always something to remind you of why it’s such a beautiful season. The rarity value sometimes just serves to make the experience even more precious.

June 17th – I came through Chesterfield near Stonnall in the afternoon and the skies were very threatening, yet failed to deliver their apparently evil intent.

Equally menacing was the murder of crows, calling and chattering from the overhead lines. It was very Hitchcock.

I hurried home before the storm arrived… be it inclement weather or angry corvids.

June 15th – I spent most of the day travelling before ending up back in Darlaston working late. I set out on yet another wet morning, in steady but warm rain, and it more or less continued until the last trip of the day, which was mercifully dry.

On one of my journeys, I noticed this bored, sad looking border collie who’d clearly have rather been out in the outdoors than stuck in a train. I loved his mismatched eyes. With the rain and murk restricting my riding, I know how the dog felt.

I don’t know where he was going, but I hope there was somewhere to run when he got there.

June 13th – Another day, another rainstorm, another soaking.

I headed out mid-morning from work to visit a customer; sadly, I left just as the heavens opened. 

Fortunately, the flowers I saw on the way were so beautiful, they made up for the wet legs.

To the person who’s been practising the rain dance: I think you have the hang of it now. Please stop.

June 12th – Washed out.

I didn’t think rain was in store for today; I awoke to the sound of it, and it continued until early afternoon. I needed to collect something from Cannock Chase, so sensing a break in the weather, I went for it. 

I got soaked. 

I took shelter in Birches Valley, and watched the torrential rain until it stopped. I was there an hour. Very little of the standing water was there when I arrived.

As soon as the skies lightened I was off. No unpleasant particularly, but wet and uncomfortable, these are the only photos I took.

Some days are just a challenge.

May 31st – A bright spot in an atrocious, wet commute home was spotting that the coos have returned to Jockey Meadow in Walsall Wood – and by the look of the lush meadow there, they have their work cut out. 

Not that it seems hard work, browsing the bog for the juiciest grasses and shoots, and generally looking handsome. 

I love these guys. So nosey, so proud. Good to have my friends back.

May 21st – Up on Cannock Chase, I went looking for a fire tower I’d heard had been rebuilt. These watchtowers are scattered throughout the forest, and I thought they’d slipped out of use; when I last visited this one up near Sow Street high on Wolseley Park in 2011, it had collapsed in the bad weather and was nothing more than a pile of rotten wood. Tipped off by fellow local historian Dave Fellows, I discovered in the week that it had been rebuilt – so I went to check it out.

Sadly, it’s gated at the top so you can’t get in, but it’s a curious thing with an otherworldly feel. As the rain began to fall, the clearing the tower sits in – on the junction of five or six firebreaks for best visibility – came alive. Solitary, quiet apart from the rain on leaves, I realised how much wildlife was around on a dull day; I could hear deer in the wood, and the fungus and flowers were wonderful.

Then the heavens opened – but dry in waterproofs, even that was a sensory wonder.