July 31st – A drier day, at least. After the deluge of the previous day, it was good to feel the landscape slowly drying in the morning sun.
The lousy summer has at least been good for the fruits: All along the waysides from Brownhills to Darlaston, fruit ids swelling and ripening, from apples to blackberries.
Autumn will soon be upon us – how quickly this season and year have passed.
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July 30th – Tuesday was another washout: It rained on me on the way to work, and on the way home. It seems to do little else at the moment, bad weather is perched upon the Midlands summer like a vulture.
l experienced the heaviest rains I’ve ridden in for years; the roads were rivers and I headed home in fear and soaked through to the skin.
On the canal near Catshill Junction, the Canada geese didn’t seem to care. I loved the wee fellow seemingly sitting on his backside.
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July 28th – If Saturday’s weather had been poor, on Sunday it was atrocious – the rain just didn’t stop all day. I was low, everything was on top of me and I’d had enough. I went up Walsall Wood to see friend who was out then I called; I went to pick up a takeaway. They were closed for summer holidays.
I dripped and squelched back to Brownhills. I was wet. The town was wet. Everything was wrong.
This was certainly a lost weekend. But maybe not quite as bad as Lloyd Cole’s. At least there was no hotel bill…
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July 18th – A flower which I’m convinced has had me puzzling before is St. john’s Wort. This tidy, bushy shrub is planted ornamentally on a lot of industrial estates, and I never identify with it as being British – it seems exotic.
Also when people talk about wort I always think off plants like ragwort, or sticky wort.
Having caught the morning’s showers the whole bush glistened and shimmered. A coating of raindrops can only ever add to a plant’s appeal, after all…
Thanks to everyone on Facebook who helped me identify this one.
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June 15th – With things online getting on top of me, I headed out at lunchtime on a much better day to find cake, sunshine and solace.
The sunshine was patchy, but lovely and I went to my old haunt of Hints Ford to see it after the rains. Green and peaceful as ever, there was much to see: I was particularly fascinated by the honeybee nest in the tree there.
Hints is as gorgeous as it ever was and I’ve missed it – I must try to get here more often.
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June 15th – On my return, I crisscrossed the Trent and Tame at sunset. The rivers were very swollen and had risen onto the floodplains at Walton and Croxall.
I was amused but not surprised to see the outdoor education centre at Whitemoor Lakes had it’s climbing and activity equipment in several feet of water – although the centre itself was safe up on the bund. I guess they’ll be doing more watersports than planned this week.
I never cease to be fascinated and impressed with the rivers in spate. Such quite, constant power, a forceful but elegant reminder that the weather and elements still rule us.
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June 14th – Feeling unwell but needing to go out, I slipped out late afternoon to pick something up from a friend in Barton. The heavens opened on my as I left and the rain was torrential. By the time I got to Lichfield I was soaked – I’d endured rain, hail, thunder and lightning…
But, at Lichfield, the weather cleared, the sun came out and I gently dried in the soft sun. It was actually gorgeous.
Cake, coffee, a completed mission at Barton, I enjoyed a spin back and the spectacle of flooded roads and swollen rivers.
A better than expected ride.
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June 14th – A dry commute to work (but sadly, not back) was a novelty. It was grey, and I never felt quite safe from the threatening skies but the blessed absence of rain was nice.
Victoria Park in Darlaston looks lush and green as one would expect in such a wet season. The mystic bridge I stood on to take photos from, however, was slippery with algae and lethal, so take care!
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June 13th – It was drier in the morning, with ha hint, just a hint of sun when I headed to Telford. My jacket hood was down for the first time in a week. I could see where I was going.
Could this be the end of the rain for a while?
Lulled into a false sense of security, a flash shower caught me on the way back to the station.
Thankfully, by the time the train got to Wolverhampton the rain had been left behind.
Just one blessed day without rain, please? It’s not too much to ask, is it?
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June 12th – I think that very soon I shall start growing webs between my toes. This rain is remarkable and without a break. It’s beginning to get to even me – there’s a permanent rainbow in our kitchen from drying waterproofs.
But still, nature does it’s thing: On a short errand out of work at Darlaston, my first spots of the lovely, thistle-like knapweed and cleavers, the sticky, velcro-like seeds that stick to anything furry – socks, dogs, cats.
Cleavers, or sweethearts are we called them, always now remind me of leprechaun testicles after a comment from Susan Marie Ward years ago.
I’ve given up hoping for an end to the rain and am just hoping I don’t drown…
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BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 