6th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

A crashing of leaves and branches in one of the bushes and suddenly two squirrels emerge chasing each other up the furrowed trunk of a sweet chestnut. The sky is uniform grey and the breeze is fresh but the West Cliff Green is already full of walkers with and without dogs. The fisherman is far out in the bay in his little rowing boat. A couple of gulls circle lazily and aimlessly. In the long grass at the top of the cliff the mugwort has grown up through the fence. Teasels have still got their little circlets of puple and morning primrose are bright yellow against the grey horizon. July is the month for butterflies and that looks like a Gatekeeper hiding in the brambles. Pigeons coo from every tree.

From 6th July 2022

The evening smells of summer: dried grass, pine trees, barbecues on the beach. The fields on Ballard down and the chalk stacks of Old Harry bask in the last rays. A RIB and a couple of jetskis buzz across the untroubled blue water of the bay leaving three long white wakes far behind them. The green is populated with little groups of two or three, mostly young people. Two girls have brought out some camping chairs and are sharing a bottle of pink WKD. A young lad is trying to impress a group of young mothers with his urban street slang "Man, ma fwoat is draaaaaay." Everyone seems low key and at ease. Under the pines a group of wayfarers (new faces) are working hard to blot out the horror of it all. They have achieved the not-being-able-to-stand-up stage. A lone gull slides overhead and calls wistfully. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

Later

The sea is flustering on the beach like an elderly lady in pale green silk dress with extravagent lacy collar and cuffs, desperately searching for her keys in her enormous tan bag. Ooops. There goes her big hat cartwheeling along the sand, driven along by the boisterous breeze.

From 6th July 2021

When the sun manages to peep out from behind the raggedy clouds it is quite warm but the breeze is strong and growing all the time. The tall flowers have been knocked sideways by the force of the rain last night. The sunlight gleams dully on the water of the bay. Long parallel lines of rollers land with a thump and a boom on the shore melding into one huge crashing roar. A lone greenfinch wheezes on, trying to make himself heard above the din.

From 6th July 2011

After the rain, a brief moment of bright sunshine. But now white horses are prancing on the tops of the waves whipping up under a leaden sky.