#365daysofbiking Fade to grey:
December 9th – A throughly grey unpleasant afternoon leeched into dusk as I took a spin around Chasewater, taking a break from my workload. I saw no deer, and even the birdlife seemed suppressed, perhaps due to the unpleasant wind.
It’s was utterly colourless, wet and my heart was heavy. Days like this get me down.
#365daysofbiking Sucked under:
October 2nd – The Suck is brutal this year. The dark evening commutes are hard and the driving is bad. But today was unexpected, unforecast drizzle all the way, and with no waterproof trousers, I was soaked and miserable.
This is the hard bit of winter. Dark, wet and cold, it’s going to get a lot worse before it begins to improve.
Every year this gets more and more daunting.
#365daysofbiking Falling slowly
September 2nd -I’m under the impression that water is being released from Chasewater at the moment for a dam inspection; but usually the water in recent years has been low at the end of summer.
With the reservoir being kept so high these days generally, it seems to worry people when the level drops, but this was perfectly normal for years when I was younger.
It might not be great for the Watersport folks, but for lovers of the mini-beach at the north end of the dam it’s a real boon…
August 11th – On the Black Path, it felt like autumn. On the canal it rained like autumn.
I hope the sun comes back soon. I feel bereft.
April 13th – I rode to work in steady rain heavy hearted. It’s not often I say this but the morning had no redeeming features I could find; it was wet, cold and very, very unlike spring. 2013 was a pretty bad spring, starting very late with heavy snows in the dying days of March like this one. But at least the sun came out and things dramatically improved. 2018 has tested even my usually stoical resolve, I must say.
Rolling through Kings Hill on an errand mid morning, everything was headache-grey – the roads, the buildings, the sky.
It’s rare I feel so bleak about the weather.
March 27th – A wet, cold unpleasant commute in both directions made for a horrible day, but seeing wild primroses in bloom defying the gloom on a roadside verge in Wednesbury really cheered me up.
Joy and the relief it provides can come from unexpected places.
February 3rd – A day without rain would be nice. So nice.
It rained all day, and I barely left the house; I had technical difficulties with some work equipment that kept me busy on a fool’s errand most of the afternoon, before it turned out the problem was not mine at all.
I got nothing done. I felt low and troubled and realised that although physically better, I’m still recovering and have the post-illness blues. I’m sure you know how it goes – you still have some climbing to do and the daily grind hasn’t stopped for you to hop back on and catch up.
I had to nip up Walsall Wood in the early evening on an errand. I got wet, it was cold and I felt every pedal stroke.
I know everything will improve, and I’ll slip back into the daily rhythm soon. But right now I feel spare and down.
August 5th – A day when I wasn’t feeling great. People I love are leaving for long holidays, which will make my personal life unusually quiet for a few weeks, and I had a dreadful migraine that disturbed my vision and made it impossible to read or concentrate.
I went out late to do some shopping, and spun out to Chasewater along the canal. The day had been squally, but right now there were blue skies and sun, and I admired the fields of wheat running across Home Farm to Sandhills. I guess these will be harvested soon as the adjacent oilseed rape has been, and the cycle resets for another year.
Today, I felt sad, but the sun and air did me good. But inside, the weeks of quiet to come were making me down.
July 16th – The dying light intensified it’s drama as I headed back wearily to Brownhills. The Parade is always a treat but with so many mature deciduous trees there now, a low sun is a real treat.
It’s not hard to see the beauty in this place. You just need to be receptive to it and find the right light.
February 12th – The fug continued throughout Sunday. Throughout the day, drizzle, sleet and snow, and the persistent, cursed absence of proper light. It was like someone had switched hope and optimism off. I found the day oppressive; I was caged, and I hate that. Hemmed in by the weather and a worsening mood.
I slipped out in the early evening to pop something over to a mate in Walsall Wood. A laugh and a shared moan about the lost weekend made things better. I returned to Brownhills, still in steady, cold drizzle, lifted, but still lost.
Bad weather will test even the greatest optimist.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 