September 11th – Inescapable now, action is slowly but surely draping it’s cloak over the shoulders of later summer.
I notice the leaves are turning (maybe a little early), and tinges of red, gold and brown are catching hedgerows and woodlands. It’s now sunset way before 8pm, and we’re heading towards the darkness at an alarming rate.
But the beauty is there in the sunshine particularly, and my annual dread is beginning to ease a little…
September 10th – A miserable, wet and grey day with high winds kept me hemmed in until late afternoon, when despite being caught by a couple of heavy squalls, the skies cleared and the sun came out for a while.
I contented myself with a loop of Brownhills and Chasewater and explored some things I’d been meaning to check out for a while, and it wasn’t a bad, but chilly and damp ride.
Some of the views – when the sun caught the spray and the rain sparkled in the light – were gorgeous.
It seems the Indian summer I was hoper for is not to be this year.
September 3rd – The day was grim and overcast, and the weather horrid, and I was wiped out from the ride the day before. I confined myself to a short ride around Pelsall, Brownhills and Shelfield via the canal and old rail cycleway.
From the day before, in shirtsleeves getting a tan and sweating in the sun, to this: There was an unpleasant nip in the air, a serious wind and autumn touching the greenery in a way I find sad.
I do hope that wasn’t summer’s last breath…
August 27th – The sunset from Salt Street overlooking the motorway and Austrey was gorgeous. I rode into a falling darkness, reminded of the advancing season and how this weekend always has a feeling of conclusive end to it, although summer rarely ends here, of course.
I’m not usually happy this weekend. This evening I was very content indeed.
I loved the bewitching weathervane on Cope’s Lodge at Fisherwick. Particularly the cat. How fab is that?
I needed this rest. So nice to be in the places I love, in good weather, even if the bike squeaks.
August 22nd – The Elderberry crop looks decent this year, which is always a good sign for local home-brew winemakers.
I will be out collecting buckets of these tiny back juice laden berries for a relative to perform the usual magic of transforming this bitter, black harvest into a dizzying, beautiful dark red nectar.
They also make a wonderful sight as a roll around the area.
The oncoming autumn is lovely when you stop fighting it…
August 19th – I was having a terrible day: I had plans to get out early, but the wind and weather were grim, and everything I did seemed like wading through treacle.
After miserably writing blog posts, messing up dates and publicity schedules, I finally got a grip and went out, to find a bright periodically sunny late afternoon in which harvest was being completed and the fields of stubble were golden delights over towards Sandhills and Hammerwich.
The sight of that lovely church and converted windmill cheered me, as did the bright, surprisingly warm if short-lived sunshine.
A nice pick me up on an awful day.
August 6th Dusk was falling on my return from Chasewater and at Home Farm, the harvest I had foreseen the day before was underway before expected rains appeared, and the farmer was working into the evening. Clouds of dust rose from the combine, and for all the world looked like it was on fire.
I feel really sad this year at Summer’s passing; I have enjoyed the warm days so much, with the sun and flowers. I guess again, I will endure winter and the cold and dark and come to enjoy it after initial resistance as I always do. I just wish the warmth had a fairer share of the year…
August 5th – A day when I wasn’t feeling great. People I love are leaving for long holidays, which will make my personal life unusually quiet for a few weeks, and I had a dreadful migraine that disturbed my vision and made it impossible to read or concentrate.
I went out late to do some shopping, and spun out to Chasewater along the canal. The day had been squally, but right now there were blue skies and sun, and I admired the fields of wheat running across Home Farm to Sandhills. I guess these will be harvested soon as the adjacent oilseed rape has been, and the cycle resets for another year.
Today, I felt sad, but the sun and air did me good. But inside, the weeks of quiet to come were making me down.
August 4th – For another sign of autumn’s looming shadow, you can do little better than windfall conkers. This large, pristine example was found on the Lichfield Road, near Walsall town centre.
I rescued it before it got squashed by traffic, then feeling foolish on my realising there was absolutely nothing I could do with it as the shiny fruit within the spiky shell wasn’t ripe yet.
Like most male humans, I’m programmed not to pass by a conker in the road, and throughout autumn I’ll have pockets full of them to no end whatsoever.
There was nothing else to do except feature this find on 365days…
August 3rd – I’m amazed at the general variety between types of rosehips. I mentioned these sweet fruit of the rosebush on here a few days ago, and noticed today they were developing at a fair pace now. They range from thin, almost yellow and small, to bright red, akin to a radish, like the one above, which is actually quite large.
It’s interesting as there seems less variety in wild rose flowers than there seems to be in the seed fruit.
At this time in late summer they make for a welcome splash of colour, and will continue to be so until late autumn. A beautiful but slightly sad reminder that the season’s wheel continues to roll forward whether we like it or not.
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