Tag: rain

August 12th – I was hoping to snap out of it. I certainly felt better today; the cramps eased and I did more of what I had to do. But the early, end of summer blues really had me around the neck. It’s ridiculous really.

But this is the problem with having a good summer. You get used to it and feel that it might never end.

I took a spin to Chasewater to see if I could find some wildlife to cheer me up. I failed. 

I noticed on the way that the rolling hills to Hammerwich were, after the vivid yellow of spring’s oilseed rape flowering, the gold of high summer and brown hot harvest, now… green. The rain on the stubble in the last couple of days must have really stimulated a bolt of growth. Stunning, really.

I was impressed by the two sunflowers growing near Chasewater Dam, though, just on the south shore. They must have germinated from bird seed.

Now they did cheer me right up!

August 10th – The first ride in rain for what seemed like months took me into Walsall mid day. Refreshing, warm, sweet rain. The noise of it rang like music on the canal, and for once, I didn’t mind getting wet. The birds seemed to appreciate it, and the plants were, of course, waiting weeks for this moment. 

The roses at Bentley Bridge looked superb.

I was fascinated to note nearby too the odd double-headed reedmace, which I’ve never seen before.

A welcome change, but I do hope the sun returns soon.

August 8th – The rain came in Redditch just as I boarded the train back, and I thought it was probably in for the afternoon. I was however wrong, it seems to have been a narrow band of rain that passed the conurbation, and it approached me once more as I rode back from Shenstone. It caught me in the lanes.

The rain was sweet, warm and enjoyable when it came, following skies that would surely have won an Oscar for best supporting performance. 

What wasn’t so great however was that one more, with insufficient rain to wash it away, the roads became greasy, slippery and soppy with the road debris and wash down.

It pains me to say it but we need heavy and prolonged rain to clear this away.

July 6th – No apparent issues with the thistles this year, however. In fact it seems a good year for them – prickly and purple, they are flowering well and in larger number than I’ve seen for a good few years – so as I suspect, water probably isn’t an issue for them like the berries, hips and haws of the hedgerows above.

The colours – from pale lavender to deep, dark purple – are always a joy. Thisles are very underrated indeed in my opinion.

May 30th – So many new wild flowers every day. On a day that was wet, but whose rain I missed whilst in work, I noticed the clover along the Goscote Valley cycleway was looking beautiful in the wet grass.

If you actually study clover flowers, they are amazingly delicate and complex, yet so often overlooked.

A true staple of summer.

May 27th – A terrible day with some of the worst rainstorms I’ve ever seen. The day was muggy and uncomfortable until late afternoon, when the thunder started; rumbling, continual, low and then a rainstorm of such ferocity local homes were flooded, roads were blocked into the night by flash floods and an elderly gentleman lost his life in Walsall when his car entered deep floodwater.

The skies cleared in the early evening and I set out to explore, and found that the lower meadow at Clayhanger Common, designed as a flood containment bund to save the village was filling from the swamped Canal overflow faster than I’ve ever seen it.

Fearful storms and damage on a really, really bad day.

May 25th – A dreadful commute, in both directions. It was the first rainy day for ages, so I can’t complain really by by heck it was wet. I got soaked in heavy rain in the morning, battling my way through standing water and on slippery roads; then on my return in fine, penetrating, all dampening drizzle.

The roses along the cycleway in Goscote looked beautiful on it though.

Hopefully a better day tomorrow.

April 15th I cut over Clayhanger Common to the takeaway, and noted that the waters here had almost totally receded now. The lower meadow here is designed to flood, defending the village, and works well. The problem is the path has sunk over the years and is now submerged in times of the meadow doing it’s job.

Thing is now, you’d not really know what had happened. 

This really is a curious, well engineered landscape.

April 12th – another wet, grey and frankly unlovely day. Where is the sun? The warmth on my back? The neighbourhood cats I’m normally welcoming back on warm evenings as I cruise jacket less through the suburbia of Walsall?

I watch, I wait, I plough on in the murk and damp.

Meanwhile, the damp, raindrop bejewelled Kings Hill Park continues to entertain with a variety of flows and planty of spring promise.

Soon. It’ll be soon. You’ll see.