January 17th – Coming back into Brownhills on a very wet, stodgy towpath in the evening, I noted it was gone 5pm and not yet fully dark. The lights of the Watermead Estate, reflected in the still canal, were beautiful and atmospheric.
It has stopped raining. It’s been so bad in the past few days, the blessed absence of rain is something to be cheerful about.
January gets you like that, sometimes.
October 16th – Still, one can’t deny the beauty of the season. A far more positive ride out over the Chase, into that open, cinematic landscape where it’s hard not to feel utterly connected to the surroundings. The leaves and bracken are turning and it really is beautiful out there.
The chilliness of the day also kept a lot of folk at home and it was a lot more peaceful than during the summer. That’s the first time I’ve seen Stepping Stones deserted for ages.
I came back over the Shugborough Estate and noted that while it’s changing custodians from Staffordshire County Council to the National Trust, there’s an awful end-of-days, deserted, unloved feel to the place. Sad, really, as autumn is the best time of year to see it.
The heron, fishing in the river by the Packhorse Bridge seemed oblivious, though…
July 27th – A foul commute in steady rain and a headwind, with the greasy roads I’d experienced a couple of days ago. There was really nothing at all to commend cycling this morning.
And then I passed the ripening rowan berries, bright orange and glistening with raindrops, and the morning didn’t seem as grim anymore.
I love how nature does that.
March 26th – Ah, spring’s escapement lurches, and the wheels of the season click forward a notch – the swans are nesting again at the Watermead Estate in Brownhills.
They seem to be in the same spot as last year, which is pretty well protected from vermin and out of reach of all but the most determined threat; I can’t be sure it’s the same birds, but it seems likely as a pair have nested here near the houses and canoe club for a good few years now.
Last year’s brood was large and successful – let’s hope for the same this year, and mum seems to be sitting already!
September 14th – Also prolific at the moment are the squirrels, who are eating for winter. Near the Watermead estate on the towpath by the hazel hedge, the way is littered with expertly nibbled shells, harvested for their fatty, milky goodness by the grey, furry nut-bandits.
There’s a real feeling at the moment of nature preparing to shut down for winter.
October 2nd – I sotted these remarkable willows turning for the leaf-fall on an ordinary, unremarkable industrial estate. They’re almost luminous. They’re stunning.
Never seen anything like this before. Beautiful.
July 26th – I’ve recently discovered Darwin Park – the long avenue through the new housing estate in south Lichfield. It’s very impressive, if a little artificial, but I do think it’s nice, and also a very decent traffic-free route out of the city to Waitrose.
There’s a pond there, and on this hot afternoon, Mrs. Mallard, with what I assume must be a second clutch, was promenading in the sunshine. More indolent, but no less cute, were a pair of swan parents with six offspring.
Mr. Swan was a little truculent, but his offspring were unperturbed by my presence. I’m absolutely captivated by cygnets this year. The positions they get their resting legs into are fascinating.
This is a lovely place and a new asset for Ye Olde City.
April 20th – Again managing to miss the rain, a morning spent in Leicester meant calling in for some shopping on the way home. Heading off the Walsall Road at Leomansley through the new estate on the southern fringe of Lichfield, I was struck, as I always am, by how close and claustrophobic this development is. Consisting of surprisingly large houses interspersed with flats and starter homes, the buildings are drab, square boxes with tiny gardens. Crammed shoulder to shoulder, the sunlight comes through here only in patches, and the sky is a long way up. Odd then, that in the middle, a brook that always flowed here was expanded into a kind of green lung, a ribbon of grass, small trees and water, meandering through the fake Georgian architectural hubris like an unwanted puddle of oil in an otherwise clinically clean factory floor. This place is soulless.
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