Tag: Clayhanger

May 8th – I guess we’re coming on to summer now, although the temperature and general changeability of the weather doesn’t suggest it. Emboldened by the rain, Jockey Meadows, at Walsall Wood, and the surrounding countryside is beginning to look really fresh, clean and green. I’ve always adored the cinematic landscape here. Similarly, overlooking the new pond at Clayhanger, where a whole range of deciduous trees give a spread of greens.

Sadly, tomorrow the rain looks set to return. Come on sun, please!

MAy 7th – I spotted this bright yellow flower at the new pond in Clayhanger. It was growing in very wet, very sandy soil right on the waterline. It was a single, lone example, and I could see none similar. The colour really shouted out in an otherwise dull environment.

Anyone any ideas? It’s rather beautiful, particularly on such a dull, loveless day.

May 7th – The pools and ponds around Clayhanger and it’s commons are healthy again. They had been in a very poor state, particularly the one by the pedestrian bridge. It’s water level had been very low indeed since last summer. Since the recent rains, all have been topped up. It was typical rainy, dull and cold bank holiday weather when I came this way at lunchtime. On the new pool at Clayhanger, the waterfowl were enjoying the soft drizzle and honking loudly.

May 2nd – First of the year. These four healthy cygnets are with their mum near the central island on the new pond in Clayhanger, behind the big house. Safe from foxes and predators, they should be fine. The pair nested in the reeds near the island. Four isn’t a huge clutch, but it’s respectable. I was 30 metres away on the opposite side of the pool, with dad hissing at me from the other side of the reed bed. He wasn’t screwing around.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Swan up the canal at the back of Sadler Road was fast asleep on her nest, no sign of hatching there, yet…

April 21st – I didn’t get out until dusk. A problematic day, filled with frustration, irritations and hassle. I escaped late, and poured myself liquid along the canal to the old railway line trail near the Pelsall Road. Not having tried the new camera in the dark, I thought I’d give it a shot. I’m very impressed. t does well in low light conditions and generates far less noisy images than the TZ20, always that camera’s Achilles Heel. Only meaning to pop out for a short time, I messed around for an hour or more, just enjoying the absence of company. Apart, of course, from my old comrade the fox. He sat on the bridge at Clayhanger, as he often does, then retreated to the scrub to watch the mad human for a while.

April 17th – I’d been lucky and missed the day’s intemperate, sharp showers. Feeling smug, nature slapped me about the face when I was nearly back in Brownhills. At 4:45pm, the heavens opened and spat down the most violent hailstorm. Sheltering in a bus stop, I waited for it to pass – I’m no fair weather cyclist, but I draw the limit at being pebbledashed. 
Within 15 minutes, the sun came out and the sky returned to the threatening darkness that it had been wearing for most of the day. Inspired, I headed to Clayhanger and the new pool. I noted swans were nesting there, too, and how green everything seemed to be becoming. Dawdling, I was just clipped by the rain as I returned home… going to be an interesting week of commuting, I think.

March 24th – A terrible day. Best by setbacks, nothing went to plan. I was plotting a long ride into Leicestershire, but a bad stomach in the early hours put paid to that. Work troubles, technology let-downs and other frustrating issues meant I didn’t get out of the house until 5:30pm. With a distinctly ropey stomach, I didn’t feel like going far but needed peace. I headed up the canal, then rode down the old railway line trail to Ryders Mere and took a loop round Pelsall. Gold seemed to be the colour scheme of the day. It was a peaceful, gentle relief to be out and about on my own. Sadly, I didn’t see my old familiar, the dog fox. Perhaps he was scoring tea for the cubs… 

March 4th – Somebody switched off spring. It had rained all morning, and as I slunk out of the house for a spin before tea, it was cold, windy and an eternity away from the sunny afternoon of the day before. I cycled towards Chasewater, but wasn’t dressed for the cold conditions I was experiencing, and headed back to Brownhills. I ended up looping through Clayhanger and took in yet another sunset – this time from Clayhanger Bridge. Hope the spring returns soon…

January 29th – On the kissing gate at the entrance to the new pond at Clayhanger, I spotted this notice. Thought I’d feature it here, as anyone making such an effort to get the community together in any activity deserves a little support. I wish Garry and Jackie all the best in their venture.

I noticed also that the kissing gate had recently been expertly rebuilt by (I assume) the countryside and estates guys at Walsall Council. I also observed that the common itself was again spotless, and it appears that some coppicing is in progress. People have been working hard on the greenspace locally for a while now – there are refurbished boardwalks over on Brownhills Common and some brush cutting and thinning there, too. 

Thanks, folks, your work is much appreciated.

January 29th – I went to bed last night wholly expecting to wake up to a frosty, crisp, bright day. I was to head to Cannock Chase, maybe over Shugborough. Sadly, I hadn’t bothered to check the weather. What I woke up to was a miserable, dank, dark and dismal day. I busied myself with other things and headed out for a spin late afternoon, just before the light began to die. I went up around the new pond at Clayhanger, then back into Brownhills and up the old Railway Line to Ryders Mere. Not a soul about, only the old fox I normally see here at sundown, looking bedraggled and fed up. We both stood stock still for a few seconds, and then he turned tail and trotted off. That fox always fascinates me – I think that to him, humans are just unpredictable, odd looking foxes, tolerable company if we keep still and mind our own business.

He looked grey today. The landscape was grey. Everything looked the same. I hate days like this.