August 17th – I’m not going to say where this is for obvious reasons.
But in the heart of the urban Black Country, a keen gardener is growing melons in their front garden, on a frame made entirely of cut branches.
This is a remarkable and beautiful thing. My compliments to the grower.
July 17th – Later the same day, in Darlaston. A summer place.
This, my friends, is the heart of the Black Country: thought by people who don’t know it to be ugly, defiled, polluted and unlovely.
It’s actually mostly the absolute opposite and that’s why it has such a large part of my heart and soul.
This is my place.
July 12th – Passing through Kings Hill Park on a much better day I stopped to take the place in for five minutes. This small, well maintained patch of calm in an otherwise harsh urban environment cannot be underestimated.
There are many species of trees and they all look wonderful at the moment. The flowers, usually profuse are between phases at the moment, yet that doesn’t seem to matter.
I love this place.
July 11th – A day of rain, which wasn’t that unpleasant with waterproofs on. A potter to Wolverhampton on business was cut short by an issue back at Darlaston, so I hopped on the train from there to Coseley to catch some time.
The flowers – even in the rain – at this suburban station are beautiful, and very much made me recall South Wigston. This is an absolutely beautiful thing and cheered me up wonderfully on a dull afternoon.
My compliments to the people who clearly work so hard to maintain this little oasis of beauty.
June 29th – Returning in steady, not unpleasant drizzle through Wednesbury, I spotted what once was a local wildflower rarity, on the grass verges round the Parkway Island subway system: Self-Heal.
This pretty little purple flower – it really is tiny, and easily mistaken for clover – is edible and a tradition salve for irritated skin. Spotted with fine rain, it was a beautiful and lovely find on a dull journey.
June 29th – A grey, wet afternoon in Tipton, and I noticed something I’ve passed maybe hundreds of times but not noticed: an odd little bit of civil engineering.
Just on the corner of Wood Street and Owen Road, effectively right on Tipton’s High Street, a circular bench feature, that’s actually concealing the top of a storm buffer.
A storm buffer is a large subterranean tank usually made from reinforced concrete pipe that acts to store rainwater surges in the event of a storm, buffering the deluge and releasing the water slowly into the drainage system at a manageable rate.
It’s unusual to see one proud of the ground, and even more so in such a prominent location.
That’s quite clever, and surprised I’ve never noticed it.
June 20th – A day of errands in the Black Country and plenty of riding the canals, green and limpid as they always are in summer, and alive with life, from the Wednesbury mother and foal to the bugs in the cowparsley.
The pink flowers are stunning and I spotted them on the way home in Harden, just on the canal bank there. Does anyone know what they are? they’re absolutely gorgeous.
June 6th – I had a remarkable journey home, assisted by a big west wind, that blew me back in 45 minutes at an astonishing average of 16mph. I was also remarkable dry, catching only the briefest edge of a squall at Shelfield.
The remarkably local rainfall was illustrated well as I came down Green Lane, where everything was sodden, but the sky was clearing.
A remarkably luck commute – in total contrast to the morning.
You win some, you lose some…
June 6th – A truly awful morning commute with 30mph headwinds and driving rain made for a squally, wolfish day; but in the afternoon the constant rain broke to showers, and I went about getting some stuff done in the Black Country. Returning home from Tipton, I headed for Wednesbury from Ocker Hill and caught my favourite twin sisters – the churches that crown Church Hill in Wednesbury – is sunlight but with threatening skies.
I love this place. Even in bad weather. It’s where my heart is.
May 3rd – Hasty, long range shots but of something I rarely, if ever see in Brownhills.: a mistle thrush. Indeed, thrushes and redwings don’t seem to frequent my hometown much at all, for some reason which is odd as there’s no lack of snails.
Yet in the centre of Darlaston this fellow was hopping around on a grass verge at rush hour, oblivious to the traffic and noise nearby, collecting worms for his family.
What gorgeous, proud and strident birds these are. A joy to see.
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