12th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

Big bubbles of cloud fill the sky. Sometimes the sun breaks through. But there is a strong wind driving a big swell across the bay which catches the sun light with sudden disgonal bars of silver. The waves aren’t too big, though and land with a clunk on the sand. There are little huddles of visitors on the beach. Gulls and crows sweep in low across the clifftop and disappear into the trees where someone has treats for them. A coffee cup welcomes the dy from where it is precisely placed on a rubbish bin. One of the regular dog walkers hold his small charge up whilst his girlfriend tries to get him to perform for the camera . Further on I discuss the British summer time with a man on a beach who has a foreign accent and we agree that, at least, it is not raining. The hazel bush that was heavy with nuts last week is now quite bare. The empty shells lie at the side of the path where the naughty squirrels have been at work. Pigeons coo after their day off yesterday.

From 12th July 2022

A high, unbroken grey sky. Just occasional slashes of blue as the day wears on. The light is uniform and shadowless. But the heat continues and is more muggy. Even a little breeze from the South East does little to reduce the temperature. The sea is glassy and still and beach goers fill the shallows quite a way out. But they seem to want to stand rather than doing anything energetic like swim. There is a general air of lethargy. Teasel heads are decorated with concentric rings of mauve flowers which are searched hungrily by bumble bees, as are the purple thistle heads. Everything seems brown or yellow in colour. Three men are having a barbecue under the pine trees. I approach warily but they are friendly enough and douse the flames with bottles of water as soon as I point out the danger. Pigeons coo. Crows shuffle about miserably. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

From 12th July 2021

The rain is steady and persitent. The big flat leaves of the chestnuts are polished silver. The grass underfoot is spongy and produces a pool of black water with every step. Little puddles join up to form big areas of water. Rivulets turn into rills, into streams and veritable rivers. Leaves, twigs and pine needles form dams which are then overtopped and swept away until a new dam forms further along leaving little islands of debris. The running water forms braids which twist together into cords and ropes. The water cascades down the chine (which is how it was formed over the ages) and sculpts out a brand new water course across the flat sand into the bay. The sea is silver grey, the same colour of the sky so it's impossible to distinguish where sea and sky meet.