Tag: spring

March 9th – Although the weather continues to be poor,spring is starting to roll in. I noticed today Lichfield Lore publicising an open day at Christchurch, in Leamonsley, near Lichfield. The church in question is my favourite in the city, and is secluded and beautiful, and aI think little-known. When I drifted through today, the churchyard was full of snowdrops and crocuses on the verge of breaking in to bloom. Everywhere, daffodils are in bud, too.

I’d never been inside Christchurch before. It’s gorgeous, and well worth a visit. A real hidden gem.

March 5th – The sunsets are great at the moment. The welcome lengthening of the day, combined with some dry, misty weather is making the local countryside beautiful at dusk. Winter is still ongoing, as the bare trees indicate, but everything feels like it’s ready to go. Crocuses and daffodils are in bud, hedgerows are smattered with small specs of light emerald, and the sun, when it comes it feels warming.

After a wet, cold winter, this is just what’s needed. It warms the shoulders and the heart.

March 5th – A beautiful, late winter/early spring day. I left when the morning fog was thick and cold, and headed to Telford. As I got nearer the station, the mist was gradually burned off by the sun. I came back to Tyseley later, and it seemed the colour of the day was gold. The mist lingered, and made for beautiful skylines.

This spring thing? I think it could be a goer…

March 4th – A day beset by travel difficulties. Actually, a bloody awful day all around, if I’m honest. I set off on an 8am train to go to Leicester. I didn’t get there, due to signalling issues, until gone 12pm. Hopping off the train in South Wigston, in bright sunshine,resisting the urge to kiss the platform papal-style, the deathly dark mood was suddenly lifted.

Readers who’ve been following this journal a while will recall from last year that I’m fascinated by the flowers that grow, untended, on a patch of embankment at South Wigston Station. All year, this once tended strip of border is a riot of colour. Today, I noticed it had already got it’s spring jacket on.

Yellows and blues were the order of the day. Crocus, forsythia and a small blue flower I think may be hepatica or anemone, but I welcome a positive ID.

I went on my way, my mood lifted. Heaven, in a wild flower.

March 1st – Although still very cold, it feels like spring is stirring. Crocus tips are turning colour in preparation to bloom, and the birdlife seems busy. I noted the swans on the canal near the old mill by Home Farm were looking cosy again. I’m convinced it’s the same couple from last year who nested, laid and failed to hatch their eggs – hopefully, they’ll have more success this year. 

The crested grebe was pottering about on Chasewater, away from the gull roost by the valve house on the damn. He was hard to photograph in poor light, but he was a beautiful chap, and did the customary grebe dive fro fish, which must mean there’s still a few in there.

If only the weather felt a bit more spring-like.

February 21st – The first of the year. , but I look for this wee clump of daffodils mid-February every year. For me, they are the harbingers of spring. They appear every year at this time, without fail; the earliest daffodils I’ve ever experienced. 

They sit under the road sign on the corner of Wood Lane and Chester Road, just between Stonnall and Mill Green.

People will no doubt consider me mad or perhaps eccentric, but I’ll freely admit to greeting them vocally. Every morning, as I pass them. I feel I owe it to them, these small, slightly tatty yellow flowers. They tell me that spring is near, darkness is reaching its end and that better days are within reach.

It would be rude not to show one’s appreciation.

February 16th – Chasewater: the suspense is killing me. Last week, 33cm from full. Thanks to a week of snow and heavy rains, now 14cm from full. A gain of 19cm – nearly 8 inches since last Sunday evening. Considering the huge surface are of the reservoir, that’s astounding.

I noted these teenagers running along the top of the weir, trying to demonstrate their bravado to their female companions. Nothing changes. When I was their age, I’d have been doing the same thing. Bet at least one of them ended up squelching home, dejected.

February 14th – Today was spring-like again. When I went to bed the night before, there was still snow on the ground. When I awoke, the snow had gone and we’d rebooted into spring again. An odd season, this.

As I dashed late from work, I noticed the sun over the city, and a decent sunset. Snatching a couple of quick shots, I dashed for my train. 

The season’s wheel is really turning now; when I got back to Walsall, it was just about still light. I think there’s hope awhile yet…

January 30th – Another sign of the season’s wheel inexorably rotating came to my attention tonight. Stopping to attend to a sticking gear cable in Shelfield, on the corner of the verge, just under a hedgerow, something is stirring. Quietly, determinedly, a yellow army is emerging. Using only the power of cellular hydraulic action and the mystical imperative for growth, some celestial trigger has kickstarted spring. Soon, the foot solders will be amongst us, bright, yellow and beautiful.

It’s started now. There’s no going back. This makes me very happy indeed.