February 6th – There I was, welcoming spring, and it looks like we’re in the coldest week of the winter so far.
Riding back to Brownhills it was cold and snowing lightly. I stopped on Anchor Bridge to record it, but you could barely tell. I don’t think this snow will amount to much, and it looks like warming up for the weekend, but I need to watch out for black ice in the morning.
Oh joy.
February 3rd – I headed back up the canal, but unusually, got off at Clayhanger Bridge and headed back up through the village because the towpath was so slippery and unridable – note here, It is almost one continuous puddle.
From the bridge looking towards Walsall Wood, I could hear the violent thrash of water cascading down the canal overflow behind me. The lower meadow on Clayhanger Common will flood soon, I think, and the Tame will be running high too.
I’ve chronicled some bad weather on this journal over the seven years it’s been running – we’ve had some bad winters and bad summers. But I’ve never known a January this cold and wet.
There had better be a decent spring coming…
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.
February 2nd – It had been a busy day where I’d headed everywhere at top speed (well, as top as I get at the moment, which is still less than my normal average) and it was fairly late when I came home, then headed to Stonnall on an errand.
The weather was cold again, the woman on the train had been right. The moon was hidden behind cloud and is was quite dark for this point in the moon’s cycle. Coming back up Main Street in Stonnall, I couldn’t resist a quite shot of the old swan, but it didn’t turn out how I hoped, the shot of the Shire Oak and junction, currently operating on temporary traffic lights came out much better.
I’m loving this Canon camera – I really am – but I must make time to read the manual. Something I don’t yet understand is making taking night shots a bit of a lottery…
January 31st – Oh my days, or nights rather. We never get a normal moon anymore. All we get are ‘super moons’, or for some reason our already lovely satellite is pronounced unique by the media at any given time around on it’s 28 day appearance cycle.
I have to admit, this time it was impressive; a blue moon true enough – it’s second fullness in the month, but it was large and bright and shone out in the sky of an urban Walsall, guiding me as I cycled home.
It was beautiful, but then, it always has been. It is special every time, because it’s distant and mystical and humans went there once. And sometimes, on cold nights in late January, the thought that if humans can go all that way and return is very reassuring. If we can do that amazing feat, perhaps we can do anything, and life is not so bad after all.
I was not the only soul the moon was clearly guiding on; as I crossed the Black Cock bridge in Walsall Wood, I startled a small, brisk, nervous cat who was clearly up to important cat things, and had no wish to share them with a human on a strange mechanical contraption.
January 27th – Another run up Walsall Wood on an errand in the early evening gave good chance to play with the Canon camera more.
I love what it did to Barrow Close, Hollanders and Black Cock bridges, and the water they cross. Walsall Wood High Street, for 7:30pm on a Saturday, looked vital and busy.
After struggling with tripods of various kinds and other techniques for two years now, its nice to have a camera that works well, handheld, in the dark
January 26th – Returning from Walsall Wood in darkness I’m pleased to see the hedgerow arch over the towpath between the Black Cock Bridge and Clayhanger Bridge has escaped the attentions of the tree cutting crew who’ve been so keen down here since Christmas.
Despite appearances, it’s clear of your average cyclist’s head and is delightful in summer.
And rather spooky in a headlight-lit night…
January 25th – The art of the traffic light snatched photo is night quite dead, just a bit rusty.
Another day of grim, grey commutes, but crossing the Arboretum Junction in Walsall was a the same wonder of light, standing water, marooned architecture and controlled chaos it always has been.
Some things are changeless, and when you’re recovering, that’s what you need.
January 24th – The morning commute had be a sodden, wind-battling, dreadful affair; the evening one was dry, clear, warm and quieter.
This gave me a good chance with the Civic Quarter in Walsall. Sorry, I’ll stop with the night shots soon.
The odd camber of the paving here and colliding angles still annoy me even time I look at it…
January 23rd – And, as welcome as a warm pair of slippers, I return to Shenstone in the dark.
The Canon again did some good stuff with the atmosphere here. I am adoring this little camera. Never thought I’d say that of this brand.
It was cold, and there was a strong headwind. But I was homeward bound, and Shenstone Station, like an old pal, is soothing in the darkness.
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