March 1st – It had been a dreadful day and I had to nip out late on an errand into Brownhills. As I crossed the Silver Street pedestrian bridge, I was struck by the effect of the sodium lights on the wild plum blossom nearby.
That really cheered me up. Happiness can be found in the oddest of places.
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February 25th – On the cycleway at Telford, the blossom I spotted last week was now fully out, and absolutely gorgeous.
Remember, it’s still just February. This is astounding.
I’m told its cherry plum. It’s absolutely stunning.
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September 23rd – At Calton, high in the Weaver Hills, I was surprised to find a tree with a huge crop of ripe plums, so ripe that they were falling off the tree and rotting on the ground, food only for birds and a huge army of wasps.
A taste of one of the purple fruit told me why they were untouched – so tart my face nearly turned inside out.
This was no deterrent to the wasps, however, who were too busy to bother the inquisitive human with the camera.
March 30th – A better day all round – and as if to cement that, fruit blossom on Clayhanger Common. I believe this to be the flower of wild plum, which were growing in this spot for the past few years. The flowers are beautiful, and gladdened my heart on my journey to Walsall Wood on an errand.
The towpaths were drying out, geese and ducks honked joyfully on the canal and everything seemed just a tad warmer.
I often say ‘tomorrow’s another day’ and so it was. From the low finish of Tuesday into a brighter day.
August 14th – I’m told these cherry-like fruits, growing on the trees on the Clayhanger side of the pedestrian bridge at Silver Street, Brownhills, are wild plums. They are most fascinating, and ripening in abundance.
I wouldn’t eat them, considering the history of the land they’re groin on, but the are a curiosity. Wonder how they got here?
September 3rd – I’d been to Redditch for a meeting. I don’t go there much these days, and it made a nice change, to be honest. Nicer still was an early finish, and riding back from Sutton, I chose to ride up through Little Aston Forge, a route I also hadn’t ridden for ages.
I must have passed those lovely cottages on the hairpin loads of times over the years, yet I’ve never noticed the pear and plum trees in the hedgerow opposite. The plums – they seemed a bit large to be true damsons – were well over now, but it looked like there had been a decent crop.
The pears had suffered from pests, and some were frost damaged, but the ones that survived were large and beautiful.
I really don’t know why I’ve failed to notice these before…
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