Tag: dusk

October 4th – I was accompanied by a forgotten companion on my return from work this evening – nightfall. It was 6:45pm, and nearly dark when I arrived home. A little bit of a shock to the system. This made photography difficult, as I hadn’t got a tripod or gorillapod on me. Sweeping down a dark and deserted Maybrook Road, the dusk made for an interesting shot with the camera sat on a street cabinet. This part of town – on the Walsall Wood/Brownhills border – always seems deserted. Even in the daytime.

September 28th – Finally, when I got home, I got some cycling in. I had to nip down to Stonnall in the early evening, and as the dusk fell, I realised I hadn’t got my gorilla pod – the adaptable camera mount I use for night shots. Since I don’t have steady hands, I had to rely on my fallback night photography trick – standing the camera on street furniture and fences, and setting it on self timer. 

The results were’t too bad.

April 29th – Chasewater was lovely in the damp twilight. The rain where I was had ceased, but there was still a shower ongoing on the northern shore, which hung in a damp cloud. To the west, he sky was bright and reflected off the surface of the pools and wet ground. The dam itself looked soft and distant through the wet air. The smell, too, was beautiful; the after-rain scent mingled with balsam and pollen. An oddly beautiful evening which was very, very unexpected.

March 20th – More sunsets. Sorry, it’s just how it is right now. I tend to be out on my bike at sundown. The canal looked gorgeous and I loved the reflections. The rooftops, chimneys and TV aerials of Clifton Avenue, just off the Pelsall Rood looked good, too.

I guess the repetitive sunset thing will be solved come Sunday and the return of British Summer Time…

March 20th – I came back from work as dusk was descending, but the light was interesting and I dived onto the canal in Brownhills. On sheer impulse, I hopped up the embankment onto the old railway line behind Pelsall Road. I note someone has finally blocked the hole in the old bridge-deck over the canal. That hole has been there for at least three years, probably longer, and I was dreading someone might fall through it into the water below. Repeated calls to the authorities failed to get any action, and I have no idea who did this, but I salute them. I suspect it’s linked to other acts of grounds management on the commons locally – I note on the old railway trail, new guard fences on the Clayhanger Lane bridge and a lot of scrub removal. Top job, well done.

As I trundled along the trail in the dark, with lights turned off, the local, old dog fox sat looking at me for a while. He seems to recognise me. Eye contact for 20 seconds, then he turned tail and trotted off down the trail. 

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.

January 3rd – It was at the southern end of the park I first heard it. An insistent, solid, two-pulse, one note, regular cry. Loud, actually, but until now, lost in the traffic noise and windrush. I dropped down into the base of the park and followed the calling. It was very nearly dusk, only the odd hardy dog walker or two around, and the persistent bird call, coming, as it turned out, from the dense copse in the northern hollow. What I think was a little owl (but I’m no expert on bird calls, it was certainly an owl) was calling out for all it was worth. I was in awe. Days of feeling lower than a snake’s knees, and then to hear such a bird a short ride away. Fabulous.

January 3rd – after a rough morning (the stomach still not giving me any respite, to be honest) I perked up in the afternoon and again braved the wind. Since my range and energy reserve were limited, I tacked round through Walsall Wood and let the wind blow me up through Holly Bank and Shire Ridge to Shire Oak Nature reserve. I hadn’t been here since spring, and the character had completely changed. Incredibly, the gorse was just passing through the far side of it’s second flowering, and the bogs and pools in the hollows of this former sand and gravel quarry had once again been enlivened by the rains. The thing that impressed me most, however, was the birdlife.

December 29th – I returned, wet and feeling low at dusk along the canal. Crossing Ogley Junction, I stopped to contemplate: I had so many cycling plans for this Christmas; I wanted to go to Derbyshire again, visit Hoar Cross and the Needwood Valley; roam the villages around Mancetter and Nuneaton. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Maybe we’ll get some real winter weather soon – snow, or frosty, bright days with a gentler wind. Ah well, there’s always tomorrow…

December 28th – I hadn’t been up Haywood Warren for a very long time. The steep collection of ridges sit between the Sherbrook and Abraham Valleys, and offer splendid views of Tixall and Shugborough to the north. At dusk, it was haunting. Total peace apart from bird calls and the territorial hooting of an owl somewhere in the woodland behind me. This is a completely different spot with every season. I must return here more often.