April 28th – I wasn’t riding a bike, but returning from an early evening meal, I spotted deer from the car on the north of Holland Park by Brownhills School. We pulled over and went to look.
Against the odds the sunset was surprisingly good and the large herd of red deer – numbering between 17-20 – were skittish but curious.
Sometimes, all you need to improve your day are good food, good company, the people you love, a decent sunset and some wildlife.
March 16th – I had to nip up to Burntwood after an early return from work, and I took a muddy, wet canal towpath up to Chasewater.
My favourite tree at Home Farm, Sandhills seems to be getting into a spring jacket ever so slightly, and the greens were just a bit brighter than a week ago.
Ogley Junction bridge is now finished, and it looks great. The metalwork and bridge deck have been superbly refurbished, but it’s sad the brickwork didn’t get any love. Maybe that’ll be a separate job.
At Chasewater, I was surprised to see the reservoir overflowing. It’s normally allowed to fill and overflow at this time of year, but the valves are still closed and the spillway is flowing with water. In light of the dispute ongoing between Staffordshire County Council, the owners of Chasewater and the Canal and River Trust who use the water it contains, it’ll be interesting to see how long the lake continues to overflow.
March 13th – I know I featured this the other day, but it is a view that’s quite short-lived and one I love lots. Having been to a meeting in Birmingham in the afternoon, I came back to Shenstone as usual and hit there in a sort of pink, gentle golden hour. I was only about 15 minutes from sunset, and the pink cast was from a dying sun, but it flattered the dark sandstone of St John’s church tower beautifully, it’s gargoyles proud and prominent as ever.
Also worth noting in these shots are the rooftops, gables and chimneys of Shenstone, a wonderful array. How lovely that a village should grow around the hill in that remarkable way, with the remains of an early church, and a still functioning Victorian one immediately adjacent.
March 8th – And returning down Lynn Lane, a pretty good sunset, too.
Hard to imagine this time last week we were enduring temperatures of -6 and lower. I’ll never get bored of the British weather.
March 4th – The thing about an inversion is it’s transient. This one came and went in about 15 minutes, and it’s ever changing. As it drifted away, it left clear skies, a very noisy gull roost and beautiful colour.
Even the coos looked impressive with their clouds of steam
That’s how you fix a bad mood, and that is exactly why I ride a bike.
March 4th – I was going stir crazy. A bad day – the internet was getting me down, the thaw had set in and the world outside had the slimy, grey, filthy wet feel you only get with melting, heavy snow.
I slipped out on an errand at sunset and something magical happened. I caught a surface-air temperature inversion. I saw it start on The Parade in Brownhills, as it was gathering over the common. I raced to Chasewater. It was stunning.
An inversion occurs when the ground is colder than the air above and mist forms is very low, isolated pockets. I’ve not seen on this strong since I was a kid. Mist drifted around and almost deserted Chasewater, and I was in the middle of it, like a kid in a sweet shop.
February 25th – I raced back to Chasewater to catch the sunset as I had planned to do they day before, and although inevitably the sunset was not as dramatic, it was very beautiful and calm, but my hands were frozen. It really was very cold indeed.
I noted while there that Chasewater is now about 150mm from full, as it usually is at this time of year. It will be interesting to see what happens this year – if the reservoir is allowed to continually overtop or if the dispute with the Canal and River Trust is resolved and the water is released into the canal.
February 24th – As I expected, the sunset was beautiful, but the phone is terrible for sunsets. Galling.
I caught it from Mickle Hills near Lichfield, and as night fell at Sandhills, over Home Farm. It was cold, but gorgeous. However, the frustration at being unable to capture it was real…
February 23rd – The mist had mostly cleared, but it was still very cold, and once more I found myself cycling back from Shentstone to Stonnall is the curious, netherworld twilight that’s neither day nor night that you get at this time of year.
I the cold and against a pretty sharp wind, the lights of the cottages and houses I passed were like soothing beacons in the gloom.
Passing through lower Stonnall my mind wandered to how many barn conversions and adapted houses there are here now: When I was a kid, they were working farms.
Such change.
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.
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