November 28th – In winter, as I’ve often observed, you have to take beauty where you can find it, and to find it one must maintain a keen eye.
Hurrying into Wednesbury today, I noticed this confused thistle, in perfect full bloom. It was immaculate, this king of the wasteland, and made my day.
I must have passed this a few times and not noticed, like so many must. I need to sharpen my eye, and keep my sense of wonder in these coming dark months. Doing so it what keeps me going.
November 28th – Probably the coldest commute of the winter so far, yet no ice, which was a bit odd – but the wind was bitter. Luckily I was wrapped up warm and didn’t really feel it much.
What there was though, were gorgeous azure blue skies silhouetting the shivering trees, now mostly devoid of leaves for winter.
‘I awoke this morning, and found a frost perched on the town’ wrote Joni Mitchell. The was no frost, but I know what she meant.
Oh well, onwards – soon be Christmas.
November 25th – On a bright, cold winter day, near the M6 Toll in Great Wyrley, clematis seed heads looking very alien in a forgotten, edge-land thicket.
These fascinate me, as no two have quite the same texture or appearance. I bet these were an absolute riot when they were in flower. I must come here next summer and see.
November 24th – Returning to Brownhills after a long day at work, ice was forming on the towpath puddles and it felt like the hard, dry cold of winter was setting in. But it was very clear and there was a lovely moon to boot.
I had a saddlebag full of fish and chips for tea for me and those at home, and it felt, despite the cold, like a decent night.
First time I’ve had me tail up for weeks, as my father might have said.
November 23rd – telford, early. After a stressful train journey that involved missing my usual bacon roll, I diverted from my usual route to visit a cafe for a pause and something unhealthy to fill my belly.
It was a sunny, cold, bright morning, and in a factory yard hedge, by a seldom-walked main road, a beautiful display of what seems to be some kind of rose.
I have no idea, but it pulled me up short with the unexpected beauty.
November 20th – The last shreds of daylight, heading between Tipton and Moxley on the canal in an overcast, damp Black Country late autumn Monday. You’d think this would be depressing, but it wasn’t; despite the awful light, the drizzle and relentless oncoming darkness, fallen leaves dappled the canal. Peace reigned. There was colour fighting through the gloom. And what else?
Peace and quiet.
This’ll do. It’s not exactly winning, but it’s definitely breaking even.
November 18th – A day of spannering bikes and a hurried test ride out late afternoon. The light was terrible and things looking grim, then a spot of brightness on Clayhanger Common – ox-eye daisies still in full, fresh bloom.
A great discovery on a down in the dumps Saturday.
November 17th – But still, some vestiges of autumn cling in in the final trees still shedding their formerly green leaves. Noticed while on an errand to Tipton, this sycamore in Ocker Hill was showing a beautiful range of colour against the bright blue frost-morning sky.
Sad, but very beautiful on such a chilly morning.
November 17th – Just after dawn, on a grass verge ion Darlaston a delicate Japanese parasol toadstool coated in what I think is the first frost of the year.
I was a real shock this morning to awake with a ground frost, and I rode carefully watching out for the old devil and adversary that is black ice, the wheel stealer.
So, it’s winter now, pretty much. The cold has come and Christmas is in sight. I’m ready. Bring it on. I’d like some real snow this year, please.
November 12th – It was a remarkable day. On Penkridge Bank, I saw something I was very privileged to see that I have only seen twice before in my entire life, and never with such close proximity and clarity: A fallow deer rut.
A victorious male, with the unique combination of pomposity and stupidity only male deer can truly demonstrate, was protecting and attempting to serve his largely disinterested harem. He called repeatedly, paced around and nuzzled his companions. He was a big lad, in good condition. There were probably upward of 30 animals in his group, scattered in a copse dappled with soft autumnal sunlight.
This was a splendid sight and one I was very lucky to see.
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