Galleries

August 17th – I see there are patches of scum on the canal again in various spots. These seasonal bands of detritus are ugly, but are organic in origin – usually pollen, blossom debris or seed mast. 

I couldn’t work out what was generating this one, and it’s sporadic, but suspect it’s connected with nearby trees.

It’s a sign of the much cleaner times that such events are now so noticeable.

August 16th – Thankfully New Street is a rare delight these days, but on this grey and wet Thursday morning I wallowed in the damp brutalism of the concrete and metal, and the sounds of the people and traffic.

I spend many years now passing through this place, waiting or anticipating. It’s by turns grim, ugly, wonderful, fascinating and homely.

A real love-hate relationship.

August 13th – At Hortonwood in Telford, I found a small wayside oak sapling, which was growing round, large acorns. they were generally healthy and surprisingly large, with only a handful affected by knapper galls – and where they were, the actual effect of the acorn remained small.

The ants were clearly interested in the acorns, but I have no idea why, and I’m wondering if the low gall-count and manner of development is maybe signifying and evolved defence to these parasites.

Certainly is fascinating. Going to be a good crop of acorns this year I think, and a bumper hedgerow harvest generally from what I can see so far.

August 13th – A brighter day when the morning got going and I found myself visiting Telford feeling better, even if my stomach was still uncomfortable.

The footbridge project is progressing well but there still seems to be an awful lot to do: No discernible structural assembly of the lifts yet, and the access point on the west side seems miles off completion yet, although in the way these things generally do, it’ll probably come together very quickly in the end.

Interesting to note the main span mainly constructed now, and it’ll be lifted in one piece onto the piers. I’d be interested to see if that ripples the roof skin.

At the station end – which this construction is already dwarfing – there are to large, green service cabinets in position by the steps. Perhaps it’s me, but they look really, really incongruous.

This gets more and more fascinating every time I visit.

August 12th – I didn’t find the deer, and it started to rain. But these guys really did cheer me up – the Chasewater North Heath coos. They were moving off the low heath up into the scrub for shelter I think, and didn’t give a toss who they held up, which is exactly how it should be. Their nosiness, and gentle inquisition charmed me as it always does, and I cycled on with a smile on my face.

Well done, lads. Mission accomplished.

August 12th – I was hoping to snap out of it. I certainly felt better today; the cramps eased and I did more of what I had to do. But the early, end of summer blues really had me around the neck. It’s ridiculous really.

But this is the problem with having a good summer. You get used to it and feel that it might never end.

I took a spin to Chasewater to see if I could find some wildlife to cheer me up. I failed. 

I noticed on the way that the rolling hills to Hammerwich were, after the vivid yellow of spring’s oilseed rape flowering, the gold of high summer and brown hot harvest, now… green. The rain on the stubble in the last couple of days must have really stimulated a bolt of growth. Stunning, really.

I was impressed by the two sunflowers growing near Chasewater Dam, though, just on the south shore. They must have germinated from bird seed.

Now they did cheer me right up!

August 11th – It’s silly, I know. I’m being ridiculous. I’m aware that it’s just my overreaction to the sudden lack of sunshine. But today, I was sad. I was ill with the IBS and I was pining for summer, for in the gloom which would, in any other year be normal, I started to pine for summer.

It’s ridiculous. I feel deep down like summer has ended and that’s it.

I took a short circuit round Brownhills, late. The rain came on heavily. For once, being out made me sad, not happy. The greyness had flooded into me. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up and sleep.

The brightness was there, though: In the poisonous white bryony in the hedge at Home Farm, Sandhills, and in the yellow water flowers near Newtown.

But even they couldn’t lift me. I went home, listened to sad music and went to bed early.

August 10th – The first ride in rain for what seemed like months took me into Walsall mid day. Refreshing, warm, sweet rain. The noise of it rang like music on the canal, and for once, I didn’t mind getting wet. The birds seemed to appreciate it, and the plants were, of course, waiting weeks for this moment. 

The roses at Bentley Bridge looked superb.

I was fascinated to note nearby too the odd double-headed reedmace, which I’ve never seen before.

A welcome change, but I do hope the sun returns soon.

August 9th – The herons are still ubiquitous on the local canals and it’s not hard to see why; the numbers of fish these quiet, urban waterways are host to now is quite amazing – you see shoals of them surfacing and for the comedically shabby, grey expert fishers these must be good times indeed.

This one who seemed fairly elderly was clearly annoyed at me disturbing the catch of the day, and continually flew away, only to land 20 yards further up the towpath and have to move again as I pressed onward to work.

I’ll never understand why herons do that.