Tag: grey

September 18th – This grey wagtail and several others have been busy along the canal at Catshill, Brownhills, all summer. Before this year, I’d never seen one in Brownhills, and I’m pleased to note their appearance. A small, yellow and grey bird, it has an erratic, pulsing flight that’s fascinating. All the time he’s on the ground, he’s bobbin up and down in the characteristic way that wagtails do.

A lovely, joyous addition to the local wildlife. Sorry for the grainy pics, but the bird was quite a way off.

September 17th – A spin around Chasewater in the rain. The park was pretty deserted just after lunch. I span round, the drizzle persistent but relatively warm. The cows on the north heath were trying to find shelter in the woods, and looked thoroughly cheesed off. Meanwhile, further down the heath to the north shore, workers were cutting the scrub and burning the waste, resulting in the lake being covered in a low layer of sweet-smelling smoke. 

As I returned down the causeway, I noticed the crews of kids in rowing boats, out from the Outdoor Education Centre.

Life doesn’t stop at Chasewater when the summer goes; it just gets a bit more challenging.

September 15th – I headed out late morning hoping to get back before the weather closed in. I misjudged, and as I was pottering over The Swag the rain started. The marsh was great, and deserted, but almost everything was horrid shades of headache grey, the only colour being a curious orange flower growing in the brook. I headed back to Clayhanger and round the new pool, which still looks remarkably verdant for the time of year.

It felt wintry, and I felt down. There’s months of this to come and I don’t feel ready for it at all.

June 29th – Out for an evening spin after a traumatic day, I headed to Chasewater. I was pleased to finally capture a grainy, long-range shot of one of the grey wagtails inhabiting the rushes and back gardens near Anchor Bridge; I’ve seen them numerous times this year, but never got a pic. I’ve never seen them here before. The rabbits are still breeding like, well, rabbits at the Lichfield Road bridge, and near Newton, overlooking the A5, the canal side meadow had been mown for hay, which was drying, gently in the warm summer air.

The perfect antidote to a stressful day.

March 8th – There’s not much, photographically, you can do with a day like this, except record it as it was. For the second day running, it was wet and foggy. The traffic was still acting strange, and I was glad to get home. It’s not really cold, and the cycling was surprisingly good due to the still conditions – but the flat, grey outlook, devoid of decent light, is relentless.

Please, spring, come back! What on earth did I do to scare you off?

February 26th – I was thankful for the favourable wind on the way home, but the grey, half-mist half-drizzle was miserable. I normally love this journey, but today, it was dismal. It did, however, have some bright moments; the buzzard spied over the field near Muckley Corner was a long, lucky shot in very poor light, and the snowdrops on the verge at Sandhills are numerous and cheering. 

Mostly, though, the A461 just ground on into the grey afternoon. Come on sunshine, where are you?

February 25th – A dull, grey, chilly day. Again, I came back via Shenstone to avoid a punishing northeasterly wind, but also hoping to find some inspiration in the nascent spring. Sadly, there was none in the dull, grey, darkening lanes, but the spirit of the Footherley Brook remains.

April, come she will, but she’s a long time arriving.

February 9th – A grim day. Grim all round, really; not feeling in the best of health, and the weather was overcast, wet and miserable. I’d had a thoroughly depressing couple of hours unsuccessfully fiddling with bikes, and had to nip up to Walsall  Wood. In such murky, unphotogenic conditions, it’s difficult to find subject matter, but as I got to Bullings Heath and the Black Cock Bridge, I thought how quant and villagey the area looked. It’s true that riding a bike can lift your mood. From a feeling of darkness and a depression that didn’t seem to want to go, I suddenly felt happier.

Bicyclic antidepressant: cycle one, twice a day.

November 9th – The day was very grey indeed, and the train service lousy. Bad weather had been predicted for the evening commute, and with cancellations and slow running all round, I left work half an hour early. We’re in the days now of the nascent winter; grey, smoggy air, partial drizzle and heavy cloud makes for a greasy, unreal, not-quite-daylight feel. This is the worst bit of winter for me; not cold enough to be dramatic, or photogenic, or even challenging to ride in, but just headache-grey mundanity, rumbling from day to day. Stuff this, bring on some real winter, please. Snow, or crisp frosty mornings with bright air that hurts your forehead and clutches your chest when you breathe in. 

The only thing that looks good in the is murk is the light of the railway. Steady, bright, control.

October 24th – The grim weather continues. Every commute is an effort this week – really poor visibility coupled with slippery, greasy roads and a fine, penetrative drizzle that soaks everything. I just want a clear, bright, cold day for a change. It’s also really, really difficult to take photos. The exposure on the camera slows down to sub-handheld speeds, and pictures are washed out and grey, just like the landscape. 

Passing the junction of Forge Lane and Walsall Road, this is the old village of Little Aston, before the money moved in. These cottages, behind the venerable scots pine, are very old indeed. Just up forge lane, the original smithy still stands, up until a couple of years ago, still a blacksmith’s sop. Even on a grey day, it’s an attractive place hinting at a more rural past.