Tag: Walsall

January 10th – Sorry, more night shots. You must be sick to the back teeth of them, but I’m finding new low-light vistas opening up and it’s really turning my gears at the moment.

I crossed North Street, the umbilicus between Birchills and The Butts in Walsall, and stopped even though it was misty and cold, just to take a shot at the view from the railway bridge toward the town centre. 

This view is one of those that’s always much more impressive as a whole than one is able to capture in a photo, as it’s so wide. But tonight, I liked the light on the snaking rails, the lights from the collage and WHG HQ and the rising plumes of steam from the boiler flues.

I’d have played some more, but it was cold, and I was hungry. Som many things to try with this one. I’m dying to see what it does with a station at night.

January 9th – Oh my, what a gorgeous puss this one is, a garden wall sentry in the Butts, Walsall.

Uninterested in me until I called, it was watching human proceedings down the street. An impressive neighbourhood presence, I suspect someone loves this one a great deal.

I think the cats must be emerging out of frustration. I later saw, but was unable to photograph a black puss hunting on the wasteland at Bentley Mill Way. I’m not used to seeing cats this active in the dead of winter.

Welcome though. Most welcome…

January 8th – Off to work on a miserable, grey and cold morning. I hit the canal in Walsall to avoid the morning crush hour and was accosted in Pleck by a very cross character demanding food. Sadly, my supply of corn was in another jacket, and the swan who was so aggressively begging showed it’s displeasure by repeatedly pecking my feet.

Of course, the swan was not starving, but urban swans are very lazy and accustomed to the high life, and when loafing in ice-free swim holes near bridges on cold days, they have little better to do that harass passers by for tidbits. I suspect the policy works best on passing mothers and fathers with children, whose guilt twanged, will come back with food.

The ice itself wasn’t severe. Moorhens and coots skittered about on it, but I doubt it would have supported the portly resplendent girth of your average drake mallard. 

On the wonderful Dru Marland Canal Ice scale, I guess it was somewhere between IC2 and IC3. Check Dru out here: she’s wonderful.

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December 19th – It’s starting to feel a lot like Christmas. The office at work is emptying of people as they drift off on holiday, the roads are quieter at rush hour, and as I gradually get my year-end tasks completed, I relax and enjoy the sights a bit more, like this Christmas tree, unusually lit by subtle, static lights in a Rushall garden.

As I stopped to answer a text, I noticed it and the way the lights glinted off the needles. It was beautiful, so I thought I’d capture it for posterity.

Merry Christmas folks, not long to go now…

November 16th – Something I’ve not seen yet this year, on a roadside verge in central Walsall: a small fairy ring.

Speculation is rife as to how this odd little toadstools make the traditional rind or arc on lawns and short grass – some say it’s rotting tree roots that cause the to sprout, or perhaps a particular sporing pattern.

Like so much of the world of fungi, there’s far more we don’t know that that which we do.

November 8th – In and out of work early as I had a medical thing to get sorted, but needed to sign some paperwork. In total contrast to the day before, it was sunny, and with the sun on the back, a pleasing hint of a summer now passed.

Station Street in Darlaston is always interesting when the sun shines on it: usually in shadow from the tall, ageing factories, it really does demonstrate the sunny side of the street.

I was in the shade today, but it would be brighter, later.

November 6th – One of those cursed days when you don’t forget the camera, but you forget to put the card in, so it’s useless. Having to make do with the phone, I nipped into Walsall lunchtime from work in Darlaston, and on my way back, caught this remarkable shaft of sunlight on the canal near Bridgman Street.

It was a misty, soft sunlight day – presumably the remains of the firework-frenzy fug – and maybe that was what created it, but it was beautiful. 

Just a shame I didn’t have a better camera to catch it with.

October 30th – On my return, I popped into Kings Hill Park since it was such a beautiful afternoon. There was nobody around, peace reigned – apart from the normal industrial sounds of Darlaston living and breathing, which is a sort of background music to me now – and the only activity was from Mrs. Squirrel here, checking me out for food.

Sore from the hospital and feeling weary after the ride, I sat and thought, had a snack and something to drink, and gently recharged in my nowhere garden.

The park looks even better in it’s current cloak of autumn, with beautiful flowers still in bloom and the leaves turning so prettily.

This is one of the gems of the Black Country, yet what tour guide ever mentions Kings Hill Park? What guidebook ever dared to breathe the name?

This is just our peaceful, beautiful secret. And I love it so.

October 30th – Not a bad day for a Monday. I had to nip to a hospital appointment at lunchtime, so left work and cycled along a sun-dappled, peaceful canal to the centre of Walsall. Turning to leave the canal and ride on to Bridgman Street, I looked at the Town Arm Junction.

This place has changed beyond recognition in my lifetime. When I was a nipper it was grimy, surrounded by blackened, semi derelict factories; there was little wildlife and the waters were nothing more than a polluted stew.

Not all change is for the worse.

October 25th – Pleasingly, I escaped work in daylight, so took the chance to spin along the canal home. On the embankment at Pleck, the fly agaric are dying off now, after yet another spectacular display – but one or two good examples remain, like this huge one.

I have no idea what’s so favourable for these most traditional of toadstools, but there’s a huge quantity grow here. Right in the urban heart of Walsall.

You never can tell.