#365daysofbiking Little stars:
October 16th – Barley light on a damp, but not raining morning in Darlaston on the verge outside my workplace, the shrooms were rising to shine.
I’m not sure what the lovely chestnut brown ones are – possibly some strain of inocybe – but their colour was rich and deep and rather wonderful.
Nearby, the early light caught one parasol, sheltering a second, presumably from the night’s rain.
Sorry, but I really am finding the fungus fascinating this year.
#365daysofbiking Leaf it out:
October 16th – Time for an important warning to cyclists and motorcyclists alike – watch out for the fallen leaves at the moment. They’re very slippery indeed.
These innocuous piles of autumnal debris gradually get reduced under wheels to a slimy, soapy, wheel-steeling goop which will make you skid and catch you out when you least expect it to. Add to that rainwater, spilled diesel and other slippery stuff and the recipe is for a tumble.
In my experience the councils are pretty good at controlling the problem, but it’s an impossible task.
So watch where you’re riding and be careful out there!
#365daysofbiking That same old feeling:
October 15th – A slightly late commute back from a meeting in Birmingham – thankfully mostly dry – was brightened up by the realisation that with the dark commutes come the return of my beloved stations in the dark obsession – what I call Late Night Feelings, after a lost record label.
Coming back to Shenstone after a round of delays, holdups and frustration, stepping into the chill night air, I realised how enchanting the lights, signals and reflections were.
Shenstone Station is always lovely at night in that kind of nether worldly, desolate way, but also it pulls at the homecoming, journey’s end vibe rather well too.
This is my favourite little station – always a joy to start out from, but even better to return though!
#365daysofbiking Appreciating the damp:
October 15th – The rain of the last few days continued – a steady, irritating, invasive drizzle. It was a horrid wet and cold commute.
But like Friday, it redeemed itself – with fungi.
I found my first tiny, sodden Japanese Parasol of the season on the grass by the canal near the Bridgman Street bridge. This tiny, pleated toadstools don’t last twenty-four hours and there will be no trace of it tomorrow. A real fleeting beauty.
Darlaston’s earthstars were also looking good and apparently thriving in the wet.
I just wish I was…
#365daysofbiking Lost weekend:
October 14th – Sunday was again bad for most of the daylight hours, only improving during the late afternoon. The wind had again been strong, and continual rain again kept me in. I got things done though, and that in itself made me feel better.
Nipping out for the shopping I’d forgotten the day before, I noted the swan family by Pelsall Road where thriving, and they didn’t seem to mind the gloom.
I’m curious though, about Morris and his lights: They haven’t actually been on the last couple of days at least. I wonder if they’re broken? That’s sad if they are.
#365daysofbiking Into the black:
October 13th – A dreadful, wet and dull day during which I got absolutely none of the things done I wanted to. High winds and rain meant I was hemmed in and my mood deteriorated.
Slipping out purely from necessity in the evening to get shopping and a takeaway, I forgot half of what I needed and the takeaway I’d planned as a pick me up wasn’t available.
A somnambulant Brownhills, even at the early hour of 7pm didn’t help.
This autumn is mad. One minute it’s sun and shirtsleeves, the next it’s like a typhoon.
This does nothing for my mood.
#365daysofbiking Spot on:
October 12th – On the way to work in the season of the storm living up to it’s name: torrential, driving rain and a bastard of a headwind forged on satan’s back step.
I took the canal at my earliest opportunity to avoid the madness of the traffic, and as I passed the bank where the fly agaric normally grow in large numbers but has been barren so far this season, a glint of bright red caught my eye.
The size of a dinner plate, it must be the largest, most perfect specimen I’ve ever seen.
Despite the rain, there was brightness. There always is, if you keep an eye open for it.
#365daysofbiking Red is the colour:
October 11th – On the industrial estate where I work, a grim, overcast morning was brightened considerable for yet another wonderful display of cotoneaster berries.
This shrub – for some reason like pyrocanthus – is beloved of industrial estate landscapers, presumably for the late colour. But cotoneaster is much more – the tiny flowers in high summer are beloved by bugs and bees, and come the cold winter days, blackbirds and other passerines will feast on these nutritious berries.
Such a welcome splash of autumn colour.
#365daysofbiking Prolific:
October 10th – The fungus is really coming forth now, but it’s interesting to note that while some species are booming, others I’m used to seem scarce this year.
I’ve not seen many glistening ink caps, puffballs, or fly agaric – certainly not in their usual number. I’ve yet to see my favourite Japanese parasols. this is curious, or it might just be me jumping the gun.
Whilst in Telford today I noticed that there are loads of is paxillus involutus, the brown roll-rim, and these tiny, delicate caps I don’t recognise but may be ink caps of some kind. But none of the regulars.
I wonder if this is connected with the hot, dry summer?
#365daysofbiking Some velvet morning:
October 10th – Seasons and situations have a habit of redeeming themselves. This chilly, but sunlit and misty dawn in Mill Green, on the the way to the station, I fell in love with autumn all over again.
Ever year I’m furious with it for stealing my summer, then it goes and does something beautiful to win me over.
I’m so glad I was around to see this.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 