Tag: overcast

#365daysofbiking Neon yellow

April 23rd – A day of bike maintenance, then a run late afternoon to Shenstone on an errand. The weather was changing; it was colder and the sky looked threatening.

However, the spring colours, although muted in the grey light, didn’t disappoint. The oilseed rape between Shenstone and Footherley was gorgeous and the path through it to the woods magical.

Refreshing on a grey day.

Hope the sunshine returns soon.

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#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 Fade to grey:

November 24th – A grey , dark day with few redeeming features. A little maintenance on the bikes failed in the face of a more serious issue, and I headed out before nightfall for a breather. A full circuit of Chasewater and Chasetown offered little in the way of photo opportunities, and the images, apart from one, reflected the colour of the day.

The night, some what perversely however, was a bit more dramatic, as I captured at Anchor Bridge.

365daysofbiking Ever falls the twilight:

October 6th – I returned to Brownhills in the overcast weather hinterland between night and what passed for day. It was damned grey and inside, I felt that way too. The onset of winter has me by the neck this year and I’m alternately OK with it and then quite down. I somehow feel I let summer slip away – I didn’t, I rode lots and saw lots and it just ended early, but I feel bereft.

From the Silver Street pedestrian bridge, I surveyed one of my classic winter views: Autumn is settling well here now, and the new houses with the nice line along the canal made an interesting match to the colour of the trees before them. There is life here now, lights in the new dwellings, and no longer does it feel desolate to stand here and be confronted with the place I love. 

This town is changing, like the season; slowly, imperceptibly if you’re not attuned to it, and I think for the better. Finally, the ghosts of the civic failure here are being exorcised, and there is evidence of a little hope, a little life, a little warmth.

Unlike the season, Brownhills is opening up. Perhaps this grey twilight is better than I thought.

#365daysofbiking 1000 shades of grey

August 27th – I was not really any better, and with a keen wind and grey skies I didn’t go far, just a loop of Chasewater.

The North Heath is beautiful at the moment and I don’t spend nearly enough time up here these days: The heather is beautifully purple and despite the murk, there is a lot of greenery and colour.

But still, the day was damp and grey.

August 19th – Talking of the harvest, at Home Farm, Sandhills, the cornfield I’d captured the rainbow and remarkable sunset from a few weeks ago has now been harvested, and the stubble, still golden in the overcast day, is awaiting ploughing back in. 

My favourite tree – my marker for the seasons, the horse Chestnut by the farmhouse – is clearly laden with conkers.

What a fantastic summer and season this has been. Just what I needed.

July 18th – Gradually in the last week, the days have been becoming just a little cooler, and just a little bit more overcast.

I’m not sure if this is a trend, or just a dip inn an otherwise wonderful summer. 

Despite the greyness, the canal at Bentley Bridge still looked superb. I love the summer.

May 11th – A dull day without much to commend it, and a rather nagging wind. Coming back through Brownhills along the canal in the evening, I noticed in the very beginnings of a rain shower that the canal was developing one of it’s periodic organic scums – this time it looks like a mixture of willow fluff and may blossom petals.

This comes also at a time when many junctions, bends and winding holes are also covered with floating, dead reed stakes and leaves, making the canal as a whole look pretty untidy.

It’s nothing to worry about though; such detritus will disappear as quickly as it came, as it does every year. It’s just curious while it lasts

April 28th – A grey, cold afternoon at Chasewater with little to commend it: On a quick spin out shivering and cold, they light was hauntingly grey over the lake. I notice the water level is falling gradually now with it now being about 75mm below the outfall spillway weir.

The gorse is beautiful, the hedgerows verges and thickets were alive with flowers, birds and wildlife, but there was little colour because of the awful weather.

Come on spring, we won’t mind if you wake the sun up!