February 22nd – Frustratingly, I had to pop into Birmingham on my way home, and caught the train back out, but it was gratifying to find myself cycling back from Shenstone in almost daylight, in a misty, lovely sunset.
It’s gone cold again, but this still felt quite spring-like.
February 8th – I’ve not ridden through Little Aston Forge for ages – and this curious hairpin over the Footherley Brook on the plain between Stonnall and Little Aston hasn’t changed a bit.
The brook still flows noisily, and those cottages still sit at an oblique, alarming angle to the lane on a series of nail-biting bends around them and over the hump bridge.
This is aways a good spot for early spring flowers in the hedgerows of the copse-lined lane, and this evening didn’t disappoint – just as the light was dying, a beautiful patch of wild snowdrops to compliment a pretty decent sunset.
Must start coming this way more often again.
February 2nd – It had been a busy day where I’d headed everywhere at top speed (well, as top as I get at the moment, which is still less than my normal average) and it was fairly late when I came home, then headed to Stonnall on an errand.
The weather was cold again, the woman on the train had been right. The moon was hidden behind cloud and is was quite dark for this point in the moon’s cycle. Coming back up Main Street in Stonnall, I couldn’t resist a quite shot of the old swan, but it didn’t turn out how I hoped, the shot of the Shire Oak and junction, currently operating on temporary traffic lights came out much better.
I’m loving this Canon camera – I really am – but I must make time to read the manual. Something I don’t yet understand is making taking night shots a bit of a lottery…
October 27th – Yet the day had it’s best in store for me. Labouring up past Aldershaw feeling tired, I returned via Chesterfield, Wall Butts, Hilton and Stonnall in a truly glorious, remarkable golden hour of beautiful orange light and glowing autumn colour.
It’s amazing how one afternoon can completely transform your mood and lift you from the gloom you’ve been in.
September 14th – Further on, still nestling in green, the countryside of Stonnall is beautiful. The harvest is largely over, with just maize and potatoes left in the fields, and the machinery one now sees in the lanes is for ploughing, harrowing and seeding. Near Stonnall itself, the oilseed rape fields are already growing a new crop.
And so, the seasonal wheel turns. As the cold, darkness and winter come on, these fields will slumber until reawakening in spring. It’s all part of the cycle, and the cycle is round.
It’s not been a bad summer. Just wish it had been longer…
September 14th – A real sign of autumn, my first conker finds of the season, and this year it looks like there’s a large, voluminous crop waiting to fall to earth.
This tree, spotted in the backlanes of Stonnall was laden, and the fruit fresh from the husk as beautiful and shiny as ever one could wish, despite the tree being hard-hit by leaf miner.
Like most men, there is an inbuilt genetic urge to collect fallen conkers and I still can’t pass them in the road without popping a few in my pocket.
August 12th – An run out after a busy day saw me investigating a few things I’d been meaning to locally. It was a bright but slightly hazy evening, and I took the opportunity to try some familiar zoom shots from near Fishpond Wood above Stonnall, and the perennial favourite Lichfield from the quarry gateway.
It was a bit too muzzy for Lichfield, but Wall came out beautifully, unlike the familiar towers of Shenstone. I suppose the mist and haze must have been sitting in a depression or hollow between us, unlike Wall.
Wonder what the science is here?
August 7th – On the way home and travelling through Stonnall after a tiring day of firefights and frustration, I stopped on Cartersfield Lane to watch as drifting smoke obscured the distant pumping station. My astonishment was short lived though when I got nearer and realised it was the same wheat-dust from the same machine working in a different field to the evening before.
Combine harvesters really are the most fascinating machines.
Harvest must be like the ultimate triumph of the year for an arable farmer, and the hard work and long hours are clear. I bet the dust isn’t much fun in that thing either.
Good to see the harvest home.
July 26th – In Stonnall itself, the village has been tidied and maintained this year I think for the Best Kept Village competition. There are some lovely touches, like this old bike turned into a planter and the wheelbarrow full of gorgeous flowers.
It’s a lovely thing to see. My compliments to the villagers working so hard. Everything looks splendid.
July 26th – Passing through Stonnall on my way home, I noted the harvest has started, presumably to beat that morning’s rain, but it’s a sobering sight.
Near Lower Stonnall, the oilseed rape has been cut, the fields looking ragged and desolate, covered in the stalks, pods and shredded chaff that the harvester blows out after flailing out the precious black seeds.
Perhaps more strikingly, the field adjacent has already been harvested and ploughed over for the next crop.
It feels uncomfortably like Autumn’s breath is on my shoulder…
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