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 4th – A bitterly cold day. I rode out to Hammerwich to check out a grave for an article on the blog. I came upon these fellows in the churchyard.
They are legion. They are spring.
A nice surprise.
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 1st – I’d say February already? But it doesn’t seem like that. It’s been a hard, difficult, intemperate month I’m glad to see the back of it. But it is a shock we’re already a twelfth through 2018. But then, the first months of the year always go like that; a twelfth, a sixth, a quarter, a third. Such is the elegance of modulo 12.
Passing through Tyseley in the morning, with a surprisingly warm sun on my back, it was almost spring, with Easter primroses in the planters and a lovely feel to the city air.
Sadly, my joy is a little premature, but good while it lasts…
January 31st – One of the sure signs of a change in season from winter to spring is the appearance of various types of catkins, which are most commonly seen at this time of year on hazel trees, or in the case of these long ones, alder.
Alder is curious in that the buds you can see are also flows, the large blooms are male, and those female.
The word catkin is likely to have come from the Dutch Kateken, meaning kitten – due to the resemblance to kitten’s tails.
Catkins emerge this time of year as they’re wind pollinating, and emergence after coming into leaf would hamper pollination.
January 29th – Kings Hill, my workaday home.
Light is just edging into my evening commute again. I am nearing the season of the early spring sunset. Tonight, I caught the dying light on the twin sisters, and saw the Kings Hill communication tower trading it’s secrets with a glowing, clear ether.
It’s been a cold, grey, horrible month: With the shoulder injury and that awful bug, coupled with atrocious weather riding a bike has been a battle since before Christmas. But tonight, I was fluid again. Speed, like the light, is returning.
I hope this darkness has reached it’s end.
January 28th – Remarkably, there is a trace of spring in the air. I noted the odd nascent crocus in the week, so decided to check out CHasetown cemetery and St. Annes now I was feeling better.
On a grey, overcast but very warm afternoon, I found a single snowdrop, hundreds of crocuses, aconites and primroses, and as an added bonus, deer on the verge of the Chasetown bypass, which although lovely to see, was quite worrying with their proximity to fast traffic.
Be careful out there folks.
There was quite a decent sunset too, and a punishing wind. It’s quite clear that bad weather is coming in, but I don’t think anything can stop the spring now. The flowers are here – it’s starting.
Welcome, my green and beautiful friend.
January 24th – The awful news of the tragic, senseless death has left me, like many other local people, hollow, hurting and shell shocked. It has cast a long shadow over the town and a community reels in shock.
Getting to work after riding in a torrential, early morning downpour, I was wet, spare, lost and disheartened.
But then, on the grass outside the front of my workplace, I noticed specks of white in the gloom I expected to be spilled polystyrene or litter.
They wer daisies. optimistic, bright, open daisies, pushing for the sky, hopeful of sun, better days and spring.
And after finding them, I was just a little bit lighter.
January 22nd – Darkness is on the run.
Sunrise, 8:04 – Sunset 4:33. A month ago it was 8:18 and 3:53. On a decent day, it’s now not properly dark until gone 5pm.
This is making me happy. Every day, I note the tiny increase snatched back from the night, Every day, I’m a little bit closer.
Just shake this cold, get some flowers out, and it’ll be well on the way to spring.
January 18th – Back to work, and very slow on the bike, but the fresh air and feeling of purpose helped me lots.
Passing through Kings Hill Park whose solace and peace I could have done with in the past few days, I was encouraged to see that despite the cold and grey, spring is arranging the furniture and getting the staff ready for another performance.
Can’t wait. Hopefully I’ll be a bit better on the bike by then…
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