September 30th – Sadly, my morning photos came out terrible today, so just the couple. But they show something lovely – I’m assuming this bright climbing plant growing on the hedgerow near the Black Cock Bridge is Virginia Creeper. Unassuming most of the year, in the last couple of weeks it’s come alive; and in these gorgeous Indian summer golden hours it glows in the evening cool.
The whole place looked splendid as I passed. It’s gorgeous.
September 25th – From Tixall, a stop for tea and cake, and then back home along the canal from there to Handsacre – a fair trip. This stretch, which runs limpid at the rear of the Shugborough estate and shadows the Trent for much of the way is captivating and tranquil. Even as it passes Colwich and the busy rail junction there it seems miles from anywhere.
All the time I was in a gorgeous, but chilly golden hour.
A wonderful ride that perked up a dreadful day no end.
September 22nd – I note from the GPS that the sunset is advancing by a few minutes every day, which has started to place the golden hour squarely over my commute. Yesterday, needing some peace and quiet and separation from a tough day at work, I hit the canals on the way back, and Walsall, Birchills and Goscote rewarded me with tranquility and beautiful light.
For those that do nothing but criticise Walsall, open your eyes: this is on your doorstep.
September 9th – Great sunsets right now, but rarely in a position to catch them. Cresting the Black Cock Bridge in a glorious golden hour, I couldn’t help but notice how wonderful the sky was.
Autumn is really on my heels now.
August 26th – Returning late in a glorious golden hour, I stopped to look at Jockey Meadows, as I hadn’t done so for a while. The coos are long gone, and the harvest done and dusted, and the countryside here is wearing an autumnal jacket, everything in the late summer slumber that pervades this time of year.
The days are cooler, and drawing in. I’m going to be controversial here, but I don’t think it’s been a bad old summer.
August 15th – Returning by train because I was short of time, I cycled from Blake Street through the backlanes of Footherley and Stonnall on a beautiful, slightly chilly evening. My energy reserves were very low, and the ride was hard going, which can only have been due to the recent ill-health.
Still, the sun set fire a glorious golden hour and the fields were rendered beautiful. Even the horse chestnuts hit by leaf miners were gorgeous in the late sunlight.
Is that autumn’s breath I can feel on my shoulder?
July 8th – An enervating, hectic day from which I returned late. Tired, aching and verging on a sugar crash, I relented and stopped for a rest and a few sweets at the small meadow above the new pond at Clayhanger. I’d caught it in a lovely golden hour, and I reflected on how this spot had changed. When I was a kid, this hollow leading to a sunken pond with tree-lined banks was a spoil heap standing a good ten feet above my head. Between then and now, the colliery spoil was removed, the area landscaped and allowed to mature.
Not all change is for the worst.
June 18th – The other end of a long day, Walsall Wood’s Oak Park bathes in a glorious golden hour.
It doesn’t get much better than this.
June 3rd – I found myself riding home through Walsall Wood and on through Brownhills in a gorgeous golden hour. The coos of Jockey Meadows were waiting at the gate, and keen to investigate me as I stopped to take their picture.
On the canal, the greens are still magnificent, and something about the light and water interacted and made the evening precious.
May 13th – Less dramatic and more serene was the view over the new pond at Clayhanger from the canal towpath; caught in a glorious golden hour, the fresh greens glowed in the evening, and all seemed right in the world.
I was, of course, taxed for tidbits by the same pair of geese as usual, the canny devils – all hissing and wing flaps until they get food, then they waddle off, sated.
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