July 31st – Maize was a very popular crop hereabouts for a few years, now you don’t see too much of it. Usually grown for animal fodder, and harvested by machines that cut the whole plant into tiny chunks, planting seemed to suddenly cease about 3 years ago. I’m glad to see it back, although this crop on the Chester Road, near Stonnall seems a little lacking in something. Hopefully, with a bit more warm, dry weather, this harvest should recover.
July 19th – The rains didn’t stay way for long. I was working from home, drowning under a shedload of paperwork. Late afternoon, I popped out to get some shopping in. As I left, the soft drizzle that had been falling turned into a downpour.
There are few places greyer than Brownhills when it rains. I’m currently wondering whether it’s worth having my whole body waterproofed, like you can with tents…
July 18th – Everything is all to cock. Normally in summer, you have sunny days, and dull, rainy days. This summer you get dull, rainy weeks and sunny hours. It was in one such sunny hour I found myself in on the way back from work. It wasn’t terribly warm, but the countryside around Jockey Meadows and Bullings Heath at Walsall Wood looked superb. We’d hat a lot of rain, and Green Lane had again flooded, prompting the usual displays of lousy driving. The still-wet greenery, however, made it all seem worthwhile.
Hopefully, the weather is now limbering up for one whole sunny morning…
July 16th – Another wet day, another late, miserable commute home through the lanes of Stonnall and Lynn. I surely must have done, but I don’t think I’ve ever known a summer like this. Everything is saturated, even my goodwill. The bike is suffering, I’m suffering. Yet we both carry on; floods, muck and wind.
When summer does come it’s going to be bloody wonderful.
July 16th – After a brief, two-day respite the rains returned. It was whilst sheltering at Shenstone Station, waiting for the worst of the rain to die down, that I noted this bramble growing through a small aperture in the back of the shelter. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Tenacity, brambles have it…
July 10th – This is a terrible photo, but illustrates something that always comes as a shock. The first vanguard of the fruiting season are the formation of haws on the hawthorn hedges and thickets. These hard, bitter berries will take the rest of the summer to ripen, before being eaten by the birds over winter. The sight of these fruits swelling and turning crimson is a harbinger of autumn to me, and a sign of the seasons’s passage. Together with the rain, this did not make for a terribly uplifting ride home…
July 9th – All I want is a day – one day – without rain. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Returning from Birmingham, the train disgorged it’s charges unexpectedly at Four Oaks, so I cycled up the hill out of the suburb, and then cruised down to Little Aston. At Mill Green, it began; a soft rain fell steadily. Coming up the hill to Shire Oak, I was hot, sweaty and tired. Then I realised: It had stopped raining. 100 metres round the bend, the roads were bone dry and it hadn’t rained at all.
The weather we’re having right now is crazy.
July 7th – One standing water issue I know it’s unreasonable to expect anyone to ever solve is Green Lane, at Jockey Meadows between Walsall Wood and Shelfied. It has always flooded here; it’s the lowest point on the road between the two places, and sits in the marshy wetlands that drain Shelfield, High Heath, Pelsall and Brownhills. I think there’s little that can be done in civil engineering terms to solve this, that wouldn’t involve pumps and huge expense. There’s nothing to do but pick your moment, and plough through it. It’s not like a rural flood, though, so take care. The sewage works is nearby, and when overwhelmed, it will discharge to the Ford Brook. There’s a very real chance of contamination in that water. Close your mouth and go slowly…
July 5th – After a roller coaster of a day, I was glad to get away. Leaving Tyseley at 7pm, the skies were dark and threatening, yet the vista of Birmingham’s central skyline was bathed in light. Stood alone after a heavy day in this faded, decaying station, I gradually felt lifted.
Tomorrow is always another day…
July 3rd – Come on, that’s enough rain, for heavens sake. Can we not have a bit of summer? Just a little bit, for all the sodden cyclists and outdoors people? Much obliged, thanks.
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