July 10th – I’m really concerned about an early autumn, or maybe I’m just being paranoid because I’m missing so much sunny weather being trapped at work. These rowan berries – great for wine and jam – are ripening really well and seem very early to me.
I spotted them on the way to work at Clayhanger. It’s nice to see, and the colour – bright, vivid orange – will be excellent. But it feels like the summer is slipping away…
June 30th – I guess we’re halfway through the year now, and in high summer. It certainly seemed like it as I cycled home along the canal this evening – the greenery, the light, the still, clear water. The peace.
It also occurred to me that after 6 moths of opening out, we’re now closing in again, but summer will hopefully be around for another 10 weeks or so yet.
It doesn’t seem ten minutes ago since I was wrapping up warm and wondering if I needed to change to winter tyres.
Where has this year gone?
June 25th – As the summer winds on, the next stage of the season begins; moving from the flowering, to the fruiting and seeding. In Walsall Wood’s Green Lane, there’s a patch of comfrey that’s going to seed, and I was intrigued by the way it forms from the flowers, another almost prehistoric-looking plant. Intertwined with it, the white bloom of mid and late summer, bindweed.
Soon, blackberries will be forming on the brambles, and there will be hips, haws and berries ripening aplenty, and time for a new palette of colours; but at the moment we’re passing from the purple into the white for a while.
The advancing summer makes me a little sad, but the weather is fine ad warm, and everything looks splendid. I’m in my element, to be honest.
May 16th – I’m out in the elements all year round, and from the darkening in Autumn, the loss of leaves and closing in, I long for the days when everything is lush and green again. The jacket summer lends improves just about any spot – for me, it’s not just the warm air, the sun on my face or the birdsong – it’s the emerald greens of a summer in full flush, of the flowering and blossom, and of the maturing and fruiting.
For the last 5 months, this view hasn’t been worth a light, really. But today, on the cusp of another season, the sounds, sights and scents make this a lovely spot.
This has to be my favourite time of year.
April 6th – Still not feeling too great, and with similarly dismal weather, I took a spin out around Brownhills late afternoon. I noted that despite the grey and blustery weather it was quite warm, and the oilseed rape was coming on in leaps and bounds. At Sandhills looking towards Springhill, the crop was nearly in flower, and the fields towards Hammerwich weren’t too far behind.
They’re going to be gorgeous this year when the sun shines.
This must be the signal that winter was over. I told you that buying new snow tyres would stall a bad winter – and so they did.
February 22nd – Spring certainly felt on her throne in and around Walsall Wood. The crocuses were coming into bloom on the High Street, the Canada geese were developing their customary mating territorial aggression on the towpaths and the display outside the florists was gorgeous. Sadly, on what was probably the best cycling day of the year, I had other stuff to do, and my ride was short – but oh my, it was enjoyable. It’s been so long since the weather felt as favourable as it does now.
More, please.
February 19th – Meanwhile, at the other end in Telford, another sign of spring: daffodils are growing well on the verges and along the cycleways. I love to see them, and last year they seemed so late. I notice crocuses out, too. I’m a bit concerned, really; the heavy snows of last winter returned in late March. Although it’s wonderful to see such early signs of spring, I hope they’re not wiped out by a return to winter… but this is churlish. The weather is such an improvement, as is the cycling.
Hopefully, the weather will open out a bit now.
February 2nd – As I got back to the Innovation Centre at 5:25, I caught sight of the lights reflecting on the boating lake, and just had to take a picture. It was then I realised it was only just coming on to dusk. In January, we clawed back about an hour from the darkness, and all the time the rate of change is increasing.
Spring will soon be here.
December 21st – From here, it’s going to be OK. Everything will work out, and the battle of the last few months has finally been won.
From 5:11pm this evening, the darkness has been overcome, and every day from now on the daylight will lengthen in a sinusoidal patten until midsummer.
Today was the solstice, and from this point forward, imperceptibly at first, the days will lengthen and open out. There will still be dark, cold days to come, but the madness of the closing-in days has passed. My depression that deepens with the clock change in October will now lift.
From here, Christmas, then a new year. A couple of cold dark months, then spring. The budding, the flowering, the warmth. The season’s mechanism continues, slowly, inexorably, and I am in it’s thrall.
Every year, I feel this so much more keenly. I need to feel it, to feel the good days. But oh, the blessed absence of light…
Chasewater was choppy, and grey. The fine sunset I’d hoped to catch didn’t come. But it didn’t matter. Darkness must now retreat. Begone.
September 21st – For the second time in a week, I’m on the phone camera, as although I this time remembered to bring out my camera, it turned out I’d left it switched on and it’s battery was as flat as a pancake. This was sad, as the afternoon was again great. The freshly ploughed and harrowed soil at Home Farm smelled great, and made an interesting contrast with the other fields nearby. I see my favourite tree is starting to turn, too. The little beach, at the north end of Chasewater Dam was deserted for the first time in weeks. If yesterday felt like spring, these where the ochres and attitudes of autumn. There’s no escape.
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