April 12th – A further delight of the rain on Clayhanger Common – cowslips and pear blossom bearing jewel-like raindrops. In spring, even the rain is beautiful, and sights like these, even when you’re soaked to the bone due to lack of waterproofs – gladden the heart.
April 12th – A horrid, wet commute home on a surprisingly cold day was lightened somewhat by the antics of a familiar pair of avian muggers on the towpath near Clayhanger.
I assume the same pair every year take residence on this stretch of canal, and noisily accost anyone passing for tidbits or sheer goosey devilment – honking, head-bobbing and if sufficiently irritated, pecking.
I carry a small bag of seed to distract them while I make good my escape, but I love them really.
There’s not much kindness in your average goose…
April 11th – In the soft light of a windy but sunny afternoon, the canals are looking great; Here near Clayhanger Bridge the hedgerows and thickets are showing bright green and very, very fresh – but not just that, they’re as alive with songbirds as the waterway is with waterfowl.
Everywhere you look, the environment is teeming with life at the moment, either fresh new leaves, blossom or nesting birds. Such a joyous, beautiful time of year.
Just wish the wind would ease up a bit…
April 5th – The season is moving on at such a pace now, it’s very hard to keep up. Another first this morning near Clayhanger Common, my first bluebells of 2017 in a patch of spring snowflakes. Yes, they’re Spanish rather than their more delicate English cousins, but that dash of blue-violet is unmistakable and soon the woods and hedgerows will be a rash of vivid colour once more.
Welcome back, old friends.
March 24th – I had to visit that cowslip in daylight, so I made sure I passed by in the sunshine.
I hope I did it justice this time.
March 22nd – A terrible photo snatched in the dark: but spring is here – THIS IS NOT A TEST.
The first spot of my favourite flowers, cowslips on the side of the canal towpath at Clayhanger.
I adore these charming little yellow flowers. Their appearance for me confirms the end of winter and the brightness of a new spring. After the rain and misery of the day’s riding, areal pick-me-up in a dark, wet ride home.
March 11th – I wasn’t feeling well. An unpleasantly off-colour feeling had been descending over me for a few weeks. I ached. I felt dizzy. Something wasn’t right.
I grabbed a takeaway on the way home and shot from Clayhanger to Brownhills over the Spot Path and common – where, despite my fun, I found the migrating amphibians – out in huge numbers enjoying the drizzle – charming and fascinating. I love frogs and toads.
I took care where I was riding, and noted creatures of all sizes and hues. Very one of them obeying the same seasonal imperative.
Nature has a way of pulling you up short.
March 1st – For me now is the time of the half-light. My morning commutes are well into light now, and most welcome that is; but evening commutes are mostly on the cusp of day and night, light and dark, optimism and pessimism.
This commute started in a grey, overcast light with a strong tailwind and and the threat of rain that arrived as I rode the canal back to Brownhills. The sky though, transformed from a grey murk into a remarkable, beautiful, luminous blue which captivated me.
Even though it was raining, I couldn’t miss capturing this.
Within 10 minutes, the light had died and night had fully fallen – but I was so glad I caught the moment.
February 18th – Spotted on the canal between Black Cock and Clayhanger bridges, at the bar. of the Maybrook industrial estate – that must have hurt.
A fishing rod, stuck in the bushes, well over the water and far out of reach, still with reel attached.
Unfortunate.
January 30th – A thoroughly uninspiring day’s riding. I travelled to work on a murky, damp Monday morning and there wasn’t even visible trace of the dawn.
In the evening, I left Darlaston in light but persistent drizzle that found every not-quite done up zip and flap in my clothes, with a crosswind that made the whole journey an ordeal.
Still, it’s staying late much later now than a month ago – a whole hour – and I keep looking at the green shoots on verges and in parks and know that darkness will reach it’s end soon.
I contented myself with a handful of shots of the canal on my way back to Brownhills, all the time dreaming of warmer, lighter, better days.
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