Tag: light

March 28th – And not far away, another sight to gladden the heart: nascent cherry blossom, just waiting for a sunny day to encourage the buds to expand into beautiful pink flowers.

It may not have been very springlike today, but signs of the season were all around.

The daylight is back, the trees are coming into leaf and yes, I’ve survived the darkness once more.

March 20th – With the start of my beloved British Summer Time less than a week away now (not that I’m counting the days at all) it was strange to get as far as Brownhills on a normal time commute and it still be pretty much light.

The morning commute had been awful – driving rain and a headwind – but the late afternoon had been sunny, if much colder than the previous day.

Hopping onto the canal at the Black Cock Bridge the towpaths were sodden, but I enjoyed the ride.

Stopping to photograph the view from Catshill Junction before my return to Brownhills, apart from the huge expanses of standing water, you’d not have known that most of the day had been so intemperate.

March 10th – The light held over the lanes as I headed for home – not a great sunset, but a good one, nonetheless. The lanes were eerie and quiet, and contrary to my expectations, it seems Keepers Cottage at Footherly remains. I had expected it to be demolished, as had the derelict cottages further down the lane; however, time and the elements seem to be doing the job instead.

A lovely, spooky commute home.

March 10th – A sign spring is finally upon us happened this evening – I returned from Birmingham just in time to catch the remains of the daylight dying over my homeward commute from Shenstone station. This is always welcome, and it’s nice to photograph this beloved landmark in anything other than darkness and sodium light.

This is just the best station. A great place to depart and come back to…

March 2nd – As I said yesterday, the season of transition is upon me; and that includes the period of travelling – on good days, at least – in the golden hour.

I often talk about this magical time, when just approaching sunset the light becomes soft, suffused with pink and gold and changes everything it touches to a precious, rare jewel.

There are few better places to catch such a time than Kings Hill Park and the view of the Twin Sisters. Bathed in the evening sun, they looked even more majestic than usual, but so did the park, and the sunset on the way home along the canal wasn’t too shabby, either.

This’ll do.

March 1st – For me now is the time of the half-light. My morning commutes are well into light now, and most welcome that is; but evening commutes are mostly on the cusp of day and night, light and dark, optimism and pessimism. 

This commute started in a grey, overcast light with a strong tailwind and and the threat of rain that arrived as I rode the canal back to Brownhills. The sky though, transformed from a grey murk into a remarkable, beautiful, luminous blue which captivated me.

Even though it was raining, I couldn’t miss capturing this.

Within 10 minutes, the light had died and night had fully fallen – but I was so glad I caught the moment.

February 10th – After a cold and unpleasant morning commute, and subsequent trip into Birmingham during the day, I returned via the Cross City to Shenstone, my favourite of all night time railway station. Except that when I alighted, it wasn’t quite night yet; there were still fingers of daylight on the cloud-cover and the combination of natural and electric night was rather wonderful.

Glad I made it to Friday, was touch and go for a bit…

January 21st – It seems my optimism at the dawning of the light the previous day was seriously misplaced. Saturday was grey and cold and had nothing to give in it’s merit.

I slid out around dusk after spattering the bike: as usual when fixing up a steed, it always feels faster and way better, although what I’d done had not affected the drivetrain at all. Perhaps it’s a salved guilty conscience over lack of maintenance that makes it ride better.

Chasewater at night has lost none of it’s magic, and I guess we’re again heading into the season of good sunsets, which is another thing to be positive about, but as it was today, the lake and park were still and cold, save for the gentle grumbling of swans sheltering in the lee of the dam.

Spring will be nice this year, I’ve decided…

January 20th – Then, as if by magic, the light appeared to save my soul.

Or at least, that’s how it felt.

I set out early on a frosty morning I wasn’t prepared for, and had a few interesting moments on black ice. But there was one notable feature as I rode to Darlaston at the same time as every other day this week – The sky, gently lightening to the east. It filled my heart with hope – and the roofs of Darlaston looked gorgeous against a bright dawn. This was much more like it.

Mid morning, I popped to Telford on a morning beautifully draped in a thin, opalescent mist. From the train it hung low over the countryside and was beautiful, and even the M54 wore it well.

Just as I thought there was no end, a sign of a new beginning. I saw the light, and it was good.