BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking

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

Posts tagged ‘greenery’

#365daysofbiking And still they come

June 12th – I think that very soon I shall start growing webs between my toes. This rain is remarkable and without a break. It’s beginning to get to even me – there’s a permanent rainbow in our kitchen from drying waterproofs.

But still, nature does it’s thing: On a short errand out of work at Darlaston, my first spots of the lovely, thistle-like knapweed and cleavers, the sticky, velcro-like seeds that stick to anything furry – socks, dogs, cats.

Cleavers, or sweethearts are we called them, always now remind me of leprechaun testicles after a comment from Susan Marie Ward years ago.

I’ve given up hoping for an end to the rain and am just hoping I don’t drown…

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August 2nd – Still treating my injured foot with care, I took in a lazy loop of Brownhills and bimbled over to Chasewater, then back down the canal. It was a gorgeously sunny late afternoon, and after the heavy rains of the morning, all the greenery looked splendidly fresh.

In the space of 20 minutes, I admired the mature trees on The Parade, enjoyed the shimmer of Chasewater and watched spellbound as a wakeboarder practised his jumps. I also spotted the best garden chair-hammock thing ever, in a limpid, green arcadia beside the quiet, clear waters of the canal.

Don’t ever tell me there isn’t beauty in this place.

August 1st – I arrived at work early, before the rain came, but had to nip across town midday. There was a soft drizzle that made my beloved Black Country smell beautiful, and the trees and greenery, washed of dust and grime, looked splendid in their shimmering emerald wetness.


July 4th – Sweet rain.

It’s been a long, dry and warm spell. Today was fraught, stressed, tired, sweaty. I was struggling against the urge to just go home, the heat, tiredness, irritation. But I could smell the rain on the wind. Sweet, distant, but present. I stood on the threshold of an open fire escape at work and filled my lungs with the smell of moisture on the wind.

As I left work, it began. I enjoyed it. Not torrential, but steady. Gently saturating the plants, refreshing the greenery, and making me feel if not less tired, more alert.

A sensory delight. 

I was glad the week was over. And welcomed the rain.

June 25th – In Leicester today, and out early. This gave me chance to see my favourite patch of scrub, the embankment at South Wigston station.

I’m acutely aware that not many people have favourite patches of scrub, and this does mark me out as a little eccentric.

South Wigston is only a tiny dot of a suburban halt on a busy goods junction, and is totally unmanned. At some point, I think the green margins around the platforms and walkways were managed and planted, but haven’t been so for many years; the perennials that were planted here, plus some wild imports, run riot now all throughout the year, and reward me continually with colour, beauty and bounty.

It feels like I’m the only person ever to notice this; the only one ever to stop and watch the bees busy in the daisies, or bustling around the cotoneaster. Meanwhile, all around the sound of clanking industry, rumbling goods traffic and the joyful hubub of children from the nearby school.

It’s a wild place in the city, and I love it.

April 19th – at the other end of the day, the desire to just ride continued. St. John’s Hill in Shenstone has now formed it’s usual summer green canopy. It’s like being in a leafy, cool, bright green tunnel. Gorgeous.