October 5th – And then, in the scrub at the top of Chasewater dam, between Pool Road, the bypass and rugby club, this fine solo lady was browsing the scrub and posing for photos.
With the rut starting now and the old herds regrouping, odd to see a lady on her own, but she was in good condition and her coat was sleek and beautiful.
Always a fine sight and one I’ll never quite get used to.
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October 5th – Heavy with a cold on a week when I could really have done without it, a run over to Burntwood on errands on a grey afternoon.
On the canal on the way to Chasewater, I spotted this handsome, very black puss taking the air on a back garden angling peg.
Regarding me with clear disdain, it only moved to glare at me, following which this patch of sleek blackness resumed its neighbourhood watch.
Clearly something of the night about this gorgeous, wonderfully aloof and cool cat.
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August 13th – Spotted at lunchtime on an excursion from work to the hospital, a heron loafing on a wall in one of the most urban, industrial bits of Walsall: Pleck.
I adore herons for their impressive fishing ability, their shabby, almost mad appearance and their raw, appreciable character and individuality. They are endlessly entertaining to watch.
This large adult bird was preening, being slow, methodical, and thorough. It paid me scant attention as it picked at whatever underwing irritation was troubling it, but for all the world it looked like it was searching for a misplaced wallet or pair of glasses.
A welcome distraction on a lovely day.
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July 28th – If Saturday’s weather had been poor, on Sunday it was atrocious – the rain just didn’t stop all day. I was low, everything was on top of me and I’d had enough. I went up Walsall Wood to see friend who was out then I called; I went to pick up a takeaway. They were closed for summer holidays.
I dripped and squelched back to Brownhills. I was wet. The town was wet. Everything was wrong.
This was certainly a lost weekend. But maybe not quite as bad as Lloyd Cole’s. At least there was no hotel bill…
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July 27th – A miserable Saturday of work, bad weather and not getting done what I planned to. My health wasn’t great, either. I headed out to Chasewater in the evening but nothing was inspiring in the dull, overbearing grey.
I did note however one thing – we have an excellent hazelnut crop this year; and this tree at Chasewater I’ve never noticed before was absolutely laden with nuts.
Wonder if the squirrels might leave a few to ripen for the humans this year?
That thought, at least, made me smile.
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July 25th – Herons are bizarre birds. Beautiful yet quite strikingly ugly; elegant in flight and when hunting yet curiously awkward when moving. They adopt the most peculiar positions and stances.
This one in Birchills on the way to work appeared to be laughing at me… Oh well.
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June 23rd – A tired, grumpy recovery day. I set out mid afternoon to find something to cheer me up – no easy task in the grey and drizzle that prevailed: Such a shock after the bright, warm summer of the day before.
At Norton Bog, I found what I was looking for: The brightness of summer flowers around the small pool by the bypass.
Several varieties of orchid, devils paintbrush and birdsfoot trefoil mingled and competed to be the most vivid.
A lovely display that did indeed perk me up no end.
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June 2nd – It was a bad day. I couldn’t post on my main blog due to hosting issues and stuff needed doing I couldn’t do. I was rough from an IBS episode and nothing was working.
I finally quit trying and headed out mid afternoon into a grim, grey world that although warm, was windy and intemperate and frequently rainy.
Chasewater was pleasant as ever but couldn’t lift me. I eaded to see pals in Chasetown, which did help at least.
Some days are just hopelessly lost, and all you can do is go with the flow, knowing that tomorrow has to be a better day.
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May 8th – A day when both the ride to work, and ride home were rain sodden and miserable. The traffic was mad, the roads terrible and it was cold and grim.
They say it’s set to warm up after the weekend.
I do hope so. This weather is seriously getting to me now, I have to say.
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May 5th – Up at Whittington Hurst, a lovely secluded bluebell wood by the roadside I’ve never noticed before.
I left the house seeking peace and healing. And in this wood in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by delicate, English bluebells, I found it.
Here’s to recovery, and a better day.
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