January 23rd – Tuesday. The cold is easing but my average speed is still lamentable. I’m feeling better, but still not well and the weather is… Challenging.
Returning from Birmingham in the 5pm dusk, at least New Street Station gave me some welcome late night feelings.
I’m improving. But a return to health and optimism can’t come soon enough.
January 20th – Back on the Canon, the photos felt more… vital, or vibrant. Which is an odd thing to say about a bunch of images of a cold, wet, snowy and misty grey winter landscape. But they do.
It was lonely. And cold. And I think these images convey that fairly well…
January 15th – I went to work. Really battled in. They sent me back home again, or rather, put my bike in a van and gave me the keys.
I’m not a malingerer. I don’t do time off sick. I feel unnatural, separated, spare and deceitful.
I went out for fresh air as dusk fell. The loop: Up past Silver Street on the canal, Catshill, Anchor Bridge, back through the centre. I nearly didn’t make it.
I noted that the waterside looked great in the half-light. Even the rotting, derelict husk of MacWarreners still had an air of dignity about it; like a ruined actor decaying in a faded, out of season end of the pier pub.
I think I know how it feels.
October 17th – My deer magnet hasn’t been great lately, so returning from a Birmingham train at Sandhils, I was surprised and pleased to note this pair browsing the healthy-looking winter crop at Home Farm, Sandhills.
Terrible long range images in very poor light, nonetheless they amused and pleased me, rightening an otherwise dull commute.
Of course, the farmer won’t be so pleased, these animals – breeding well and expanding in numbers rapidly – are beginning to cause appreciable dame to crops and fences.
September 1st – I had to pop out again in the early evening as night fell on an errand, so took in the same loop of the canal I’d done earlier. The moon was high and beautiful, and the sunset again in wonderful lavender purple tones which reflected beautifully off the canal.
Morris Miner, also imperious and more at peace since the road resurfacing finished looked splendid in the gathering night.
I ride far and wide but sometimes the beauty is right there on our doorsteps.
August 6th Dusk was falling on my return from Chasewater and at Home Farm, the harvest I had foreseen the day before was underway before expected rains appeared, and the farmer was working into the evening. Clouds of dust rose from the combine, and for all the world looked like it was on fire.
I feel really sad this year at Summer’s passing; I have enjoyed the warm days so much, with the sun and flowers. I guess again, I will endure winter and the cold and dark and come to enjoy it after initial resistance as I always do. I just wish the warmth had a fairer share of the year…
April 28th – On my return, I needed fresh air so shot out around the canal and common at dusk.
It was one of those evenings when the sky was a sort of luminous blue, and it was really quite still.
I love how eerie the canal and particularly the old cement works bridge at the Slough is at this time of day. Just the tonic after a very hectic day.
March 20th – With the start of my beloved British Summer Time less than a week away now (not that I’m counting the days at all) it was strange to get as far as Brownhills on a normal time commute and it still be pretty much light.
The morning commute had been awful – driving rain and a headwind – but the late afternoon had been sunny, if much colder than the previous day.
Hopping onto the canal at the Black Cock Bridge the towpaths were sodden, but I enjoyed the ride.
Stopping to photograph the view from Catshill Junction before my return to Brownhills, apart from the huge expanses of standing water, you’d not have known that most of the day had been so intemperate.
March 14th – I’d had to pop to Birmingham for a late afternoon appointment and caught the train back to Blake Street, prepared for an arduous winch back uphill to Brownhills.
I wasn’t expecting the sunset to be quite as wonderful as it was. Little Aston was magical in the gathering dusk. Ah, those wonderful chimneys!
February 11th – It was one of those days daylight seemed to avoid. I headed to the canal for a little inspiration, but none came. The grey just merged via a horrid, drizzly mist.
The sky was grey. The water was grey. The landscape was in shades of grey. I felt grey.
Days like these really try your resolve.
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