BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking

On a bike, riding somewhere. Every day, rain or shine.

Posts tagged ‘dusk’

365daysofbiking On a lost day like this

Sunday March 28th 2021 – I had errands to do for a relative. They did not go well, but that didn’t matter really as the weather was windy and often wet, and the wasted time did not matter so much.

The only splash of colour in a grim day – The first of British Summer Time – was found in the forsythia growing by the canal at Catshill that I noticed on my return at dusk, at a pleasing 7:40pm.

Forsythia – immortalised in a great song by the band Veruca Salt that US college rock fans of a certain age will know well – used to be really popular in the UK as an ornamental shrub, but seems to have gone out of fashion. It forms a mass of yellow blossom before coming into leaf, and is truly gorgeous.

The reason for it’s decline I can only guess at, but wonder if people confused it with the highly poisonous and similarly yellow laburnum, which flowers much later but there was much anguish over in the 80s and 90s, leading to it’s steady decline.

It’s nice to see, especially on a lost day like this.

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/3u7w1sq
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Unfixed

Saturday March 6th 2021 – The bike was giving me problems I was finding it hard to fix, so I snatched a quick test ride to Chasewater as the sunset looked decent – I really wasn’t disappointed.

It was one of those brooding, dark evenings when you don’t expect much of the dusk but it surprises you – and so it did.

It was still cold though, as the smoke from the narrowboat moored in Anglesey Wharf attested. I know it’s only really just March, and not even too late for snow, but some warmth wouldn’t go amiss.

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/3rd99pm
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Dark light

Monday December 14th 2020 – I have no idea why, but sometimes, just sometimes, there’s a strange twilight that conveys not light, but darkness. It happens at dusk, often with low, patchy cloud on days that have been changeable.

The light takes on an almost oily quality. The view here is normally fairly open over the canal to Clayhanger Bridge, but this evening’s light, in it’s contrast and dingy shadow, make it look confined and closed.

I’ve no idea what this is technically about, but it’s fascinating.

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/38PRSvl
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Inverted again

Friday December 11th 2020 – We’re seeing a lot of inversions at the moment, where the air temperature relationship with the ground is the opposite to normal, resulting in a low level mist that can be really stunningly dramatic.

I was working from home and sensed an inversion happening, so shot out to Chasewater with a pal. We were not disappointed. The heath, being naturally wetland, readily throws up a mist into the cold air clamped to the ground, and it caught the dying sunlight beautifully.

It was also evident on the lake surface, but very patchily.

A beautiful evening to be out, and I’m glad I caught it.

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/3n4Oodq
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Becalmed

Sunday, October 4th 2020 – It’s been a horrid few days: Autumn has really swept in now with high winds and near constant rain that thankfully, petered out in the afternoon and allowed me to get some tasks sorted.

Dashing about still at dusk after popping to friends, I crossed the Silver Street bridge in Brownhills, another night-time favourite for the lights on the canal.

It was peaceful, but still damp and with a heavy week to come, I wasn’t feeling too positive. But the weather does seem to be improving a little and all things must pass.

In the solitude of the Peter-Savilleesque bridge, I felt instantly calmer and just a little more at peace with myself than I had for days.

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/33z5r0X
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking In my solitude I am least alone

April 13th – Dusk, on the canal. The bite of a chilly spring evening. The sound of wind, waterfowl grumbling and no traffic at all.

I realised that for the first time in weeks, nobody else was on the canal towpath. I was alone.

Since the lockdown, people have taken to canals for exercise and walking in a way I’ve never seen before – which is good: I really want people who don’t know the beauty of local canals to come and share it.

But it’s still nice to find myself here, alone, but accompanied by my thoughts and feelings. It it at moments like this I feel least alone.

I stood enjoying it for quite a while.

Realising I was shivering, I got on my bike and rode back home.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2VkS402
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Trying to see clearly

March 29th – The first light, British Summer Time evening of 2020 was grey, but quite soft. At Pelsall Road on the canal the old Victorian railway bridge took on an ethereal air in the mist, which was actually caused by a garden bonfire nearby.

Up on the old Cement Works bridge, I continued my mission from the night before, as I tried to clear my head. I stood here in the chill, watching the lights come on.

These are incredibly hard times. I’m better off than most – I am reasonably financially secure, and I have a job which is needed. But I have no idea where I’m going or where this will end.

I can’t see if there’s a way through, so all I can do is to take the next step.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/3bmezYp
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Into the light

March 19th – It’s not just public transport that was deserted, either: The roads and towns are too.

Like something in an apocalyptic 1970s drama, all of a sudden people are draining out of view in this country. It’s most odd.

At this time on a weekday on the canal at Catshill Junction I’d normally see a dog walker or two, usually some runners.

But not today. Even in these final days of winter time, before the clocks change and light floods back to the evenings.

Very quiet.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2K4tpGW
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Trouble on the wind

March 16th – Due to coronavirus, there appear to be odd times coming, and I don’t much like the look of them, I can tell you.

Returning home in the dusk the canal was still as I paused before heading to Silver Street and central Brownhills. People had been panic buying hand sanitiser, cleaning products, long life food and toilet rolls.

All because of a virus we are lost as individuals in the face of. There is not much we can do, so we panic buy for the reassurance of affirmative action.

This is not my country.

Thankfully, though, the calm of the canal and falling night was still reassuringly so.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2XA6QBI
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking The darkening hour:

March 8th – I was out late the following day, too: the weather was awful and very un-springlike.

I stopped on top of the bridge I’d crossed under the night before and looked at the view. The sky was dramatic again, and the world was quiet, save for a little traffic.

This is a great spot in summer, and a stark one in winter. In spring and autumn, it takes on an otherworldly feel, as if only existing a the interregnum of night and day.

I do wish the weather would pick up.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/3dGV5Pt
via IFTTT