29th February from the West Cliff Green

The old lore calls it “February Fill-dyke”.  Meaning that during this month all the melting winter snow fills the ditches and rivulets to overflowing.  But this winter there has been no snow.  It has been intensely cold from time to time and the rain has seemed incessant at times. So the old name still holds good.  Everywhere on the West Cliff Green, there are dark puddles and deep, muddy water filled ruts at the sides of the paths where the Council vans have passed to and fro.  But the rain brings special delights in the glossy, mirror finish on the flat leaves of the rhododendrons that flash and glisten in the breeze, turning the dull grey light of the cloudy sky into something wonderful.  And there are the signs of spring.  Flower buds are forming on these bushes. Daffodils, violets, celandines and the white and green bells of the three-sided leeks which are our version of wild garlic and grow in profuse odorous carpets beneath the trees. Docks push up boldly through the wet grass. The sea shifts soothingly but the horizon has disappeared into the grey. Gorse bushes are covered in brilliant yellow flowers. The shelter has developed some new grafitti and the benches all stand forlorn. Robins and wrens keep up a constant chorus from the undergrowth. Magpies flit about their mysterious business from tree to tree while a crow has taken up its usual position on top of a lamp post as master of all he surveys. A gull sideslips neatly away down the cliff towards the sea.

17th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

Bulging clouds against the blue sky like a full suited clipper on the China trade running before the fresh breeze. Heading for the Cape, royal t’gallants and stun’sls set. We’ll beat Thermopylae and Cutty Sark for sure this time. The creaking and groaning of the old trees in the wind remind us of the masts and rigging. Jarvis, emptying the litter bins in his piratical blue headscarf shakes his head because whoever emptied the bins last didn’t know how to place the new black sacks correctly. There is craft and skill in every job and the West Cliff Green would be a less pleasant place without. A large White butterfly skips along in front of me. And for the first time ever I notice that the flower heads of the yarrow are tiny daisies. Because that is the family they belong to. Gulls glide by on the strong breeze with deeply held anhedral wings. And the pigeons coo from the tree tops as they will go on doing until the West Cliff Green is washed into the ocean.

From 17th July 2022

After the heat of the day has declined and the gentle zephyrs that kept things cool have died away, the evening is still and sweetly tempered. Clouds of all sorts of grotesque colours and shapes writhe along the horizon and creep up overhead like powerful necromancer's sigils in purple, white and grey smoke. The murmur of picnickers is subdued as are the tiny waves on the beach. And, although all the green things are straw and brown coloured, the brambles are reaching out across the path and the gorse is putting on fresh prickly branches. There are still plenty of visitors on the beach as the shadows begin to stretch across the sand. Pigeons coo and gulls wheel on the still evening air. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #july #summer

From 17th July 2021

The heat beats up from the tarmac on the path. Under a pure blue sky the sea is fringed with the bobbing shapes of swimmers and paddlers. Blacberries are turning from greent o pink but there are still masses of white flowers following on. Teasels have acquired a purple halo around the their spiky heads and mullein are stretching skyward and beginning to show their yellow flowers

From 17th July 2014

This year's baby seagull just taken its first header of the roof crashing through the branches of a tree sending leaves and foliage flying in the way that he didn't. Now standing in the car park bemused and befuddled with that gormless look of one whose tiny rooftop world has been turned upside down and can't quite decide what to do next.

16th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

A snappy little breeze keeps the dawn air fresh and crsip. The sun bursts up past the dark trees and distant buildings. Gradually a pale wash of apricot gives shape to the ragged clouds and then smoothes across the Green. The light fades to a rose pink and dark definite shadows begin to form out of the grey. The light begins to creep along the beach and illuminates the waves cording the bay. A greenfinch rehearses his whole repertoire of short twirling notes interspersed with long wheezes from his lookout at the top of the burnt pine. Small birds fly by in little groups already looking like the beginning of the autumn flocks. Gullls swoop ghostlike among the trees. Pigeons coo one to another that the day has begun.

From 16th July 2022

Possibly the hottest day of the year so far, and for once, we are grateful for the on shore breeze which keeps everything comfortable. The silver sea is as smooth as silk and race back and forth like excited puppies describing big white circles as they dart around each other. The beach is crowded and there is that deep underlying chatter that pervades everything. As the sun begins to disappear, long fine streamers of white cloud radiate out from where it is setting. But far out on the bay, the bright rays are still picking out little white fishing boats where they ride out the evening patiently. #bournemouth #westcliffbeach #july #Summer. 

From 16th July 2016

Windows wide open. Blinds half lowered against the glare. Test Match Special on low from the other room. Could this be what they used to call "summer"?

15th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The one thing that can be guaranteed about the West Cliff Green is that the weather will never match the forecast. Heavy thunderstorms and torrential rain did not materialise and the sun insists on struggling through the overcast. The wind, however, is strong and pushy so I suppose that counts as a thirty percent success. The clouds are big and buxom and hurry across the sky like a dowager Duchess on a shopping expedition among the lower classes. The waters of the bay are whipped up into a mass of white horses where the MV Pelican is riding at anchor and only the most foolhardy are venturing into the big, wide breakers on the beach. There are plenty to keep the lifeguards busy, though. The wind thrashes through the trees displaying the contrasting pale underneath of their leaves in sudden brilliant flashes against the darker green. A pair of gulls circle but the pigeons are enjoying the extra speed the wind gives them by skyrocketing across the green and performing their aerobatic twists and turns over the clifftop. Honey bees keep up their quest for nectar amongst the brambles and are quite unperturbed by the bluster.

From 15th July 2022

Normally a stiffish breeze would be annoying buttoday it moderates the blistering heat and lifts the scent of pine needles and bracken into the air. The tree branches sway making the dapples on the path dance and bother about. The sea is only slightly wrinkled but the breeze lifts the occasional white cap off the deep blue green water which sparkles as if its mother has been up all night sewing sequins on it.. Butterflies tumble; a bumble bee clings to a teasel like an acrobat as the stalk pirouettes beneath it. Gulls swoop and glide on the air. A greenfinch practises its voice from a gorse bush. Crows call to one another. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #July #summer

From 15th July 2016

Looking at the piles of sand that the ants have thrown up on the car park made me consider that, without intervention, the whole hard surface would be gone in ten or so years. Then I remembered Charles Darwin's research into worms and how he showed how quickly Roman ruins were covered with layers of soil. I guess we should remember how temporary is our stay and how quickly our works would be buried. On the other hand, for all the violence and hate, there are good things about being human and about being alive which we should strive to preserve and hand on to a future world.

From 15th July 2015

The clifftop is heavy with the intense sweet scent of honeysuckle. The vines tangle in and out the gorse and darkening bracken. The evening is almost dead still. The only sounds is the almost imperceptible chatter of Swifts flying so high they are almost invisible against the pink edged grey evening clouds. Below a couple walk hand in hand along the gentle surf edge. The wavelets provide a distant wash.

14th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

Shakespeare wrote about “Sad cypress” alluding to their ancient association with death, perhaps because of their sadly down-sloping branches. Today, all the trees have taken on a mournful appearance with their branches weighed down with foliage and fruit and raindrops dripping from them like tears. The clouds are thick and lumpy like badly made cold porage and blot out the sun entirely. The rain persists throughout the day in sudden showers and lighter periods of drizzle. The wind roars through the pine tops and carves the sea into long lines of breakers that send clouds of spume high into the air above the beach. It is difficult to hear the pigeons above the din.

From 14th July 2022

The sheer blue tent that is the sky has been troubled only by the tiniest tufts of white cloud. The heat of the sun is intense but a steady breeze keeps the temperature bearable. There is some property in summer air that makes the sound picture somehow softer but clearer. It may be something to do with the fact that sound travels faster in hot air than cold. Or it may not. The intensity of the day seems to match the heat. The sea is barely ruffled and the slap of the little waves are heard distinctly on the clifftop. Bees buzz, Butterflies flutter, pigeons coo. I don't know what constitutes a drought but we must be very near, The grassy areas are parched and dusty. Luckily spring and summer have been early and mild so the majority of plants have set already seed. The apples on a cliff face tree are nearly full size. A group of lads are playing football. The ball skids across and lands at my feet. "Pass it back" someone yells. You all know what should happen at this point. The ball skids off my trainers, over the fence and lands up on the beach far below. But no. For once I am blessed with the skills of James Ward-Prowse and the ball lands at the feet of the player who has called out. He returns to the game quite unaware of the satisfaction that has been afforded me. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

From 14th July 2021

The sun beams down from between the scudding grey clouds. There is definitely more than enough blue to make a sailor a whole uniform. The breez barely ruffles the gentle swell. And floating on the water you can look down at the mesmerising sun light rippling and dancing on the sandy bottom. The bare places on the cliff are beginning to show a mass of purple with the heather. On my way home I meet a trio of West Cliff wanderers. The woman says "You are looking good. I love your trainers." I glow with pride "You all look good." I say and they smile and wave. If you can't do anything else pay someone a compliment. It makes the sun shine even brighter.

13th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

After a grey, drizzly dawn, a rough arid wind soon dries out the the paths. The fashion for carefully placed artworks continues. They make interesting statements about the users of the Green. The sea is as dull and grey as the sky and the best views are framed by trees. The sweet chestnuts continue to be heavy with catkins which strew the paths beeneath them. The sun sometimes manages a pale appearance through the rolling clouds and it is warm enough to sit out. The paths are ideally placed for those with mobility issues to see the best of Bournemouth. They continue the tradition that would have seen elderly colonels being propelled in bath chairs by weary sons and daughters. And the pigeons keep up with their cooing which must have been the sound that assailed their ears.

From 13th July 2022

The sky,dull grey all day, breaks up in the evening to masses of streaks and whorls of white, grey and mauve with little cracks of blue and gold as the sun begin to set. The whole heaven is like some exuberant abstract painting. But it is still warm and humid with the customary onshore breeze. The sea is almost still, just a few ripples on the green water. Everything at ground level still straw coloured. A white tailed bumble bee feasting on a ragged purple thistle head. Butterflies, unidentifiable as they tumble in the breeze. A beautiful couple pass by and smile. She is wearing a gorgeous sari of orange, green and gold. Her consort smiles basking in her beauty. Pigeons coo. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

From 13th July 2021

A strangely calm day after yesterday's deluges. You can still see the enormous fans of leaves and twigs in the deltas carved into the beach by the down rush of water. But the sea has only a slight swell which lands with a satisfying thump and swash on the sand. Under a grey sky everything is bright green. Grasshoppers and crickets spring among the long gras stems and a small heath butterfly flits in and out. Where there is blossom, dozens of yellow and black hoverflies hang in the air, wings beating furiously as if deciding which flower to surprise before launching in to the nectary heaven.

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.

11th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

A filtered, shadowless, diffuse sunlight. Occasional drops of rain. A hurrying, stiff breeze. But even so, there is a steamy warmth to the day. The sea is agitated and frilled with white where the steady waves are encroaching on the shore. The life guards’ red and yellow flags stand out stiff from their poles. A party of sea gulls hurry overhead. A magpie, on its own for once, pecks at the grass. A large white butterfly examines the flowers at the path edge. It is a day for butterflies. They don’t seem at all bothered by the strong wind. A runner, neat in black shorts and singlet with dazzling white trainers unrolls a yoga mat on the short grass and begins to perform a series of stretches. A woman with black headscarf studies the phone in her lap. A photograph? A letter? A page from a holy book? She is intent and absorbed withoout scrolling as most do. The tall thistles are beginning to bend over in the breeze. Just one remains upright.

From 11th July 2022

By the evening the blue sky is smudged and streaked with high white clouds but they do little to reduce the temperature. A little breeze keeps everything fresh. The sea, almost entirely flat and smooth is populated with late bathers. On the clifftop everything is beginning to show how quickly summer is passing. The bracken is already turning golden yellow and brown and everywhere there are the downy heads of thistles and others of the daisy family. There is hardly any green left among the grass stems and the whole of the green looks parched. Brambles are heavy with masses of ripening blackberries. A single, pale blue butterfly flits across the open space. Ants are busy preparing to fly. Pigeons coo with volume and earnestness. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #July #summer

From 11th July 2021

After the drizzle has cleared away a pale watery sun makes a brief appearance though the tumbling clouds. It is not cold. The Cliff Top is deserted as is the beach but the grass is vivid green and the flowers in their many shades of purple and yellow blaze out in the evening gloom.

10th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

As the day progresses, the high cloud becomes thicker and lower until it blots out the sun all together. But there is still a bright band along the horizon. The waves are stiff and starchy and the wind buffets your ears as you stand on the clifftop. Little fishing boats rise and fall on the swell. Summer is temporarily on hold. There is no one making their way down the zig zag to the beach. The beach is largely empty but there are still one or two bathers in the water. Little circles of youngsters huddle together. A mother and child play football on the grass and although the wind keeps rolling the ball away it becomes part of the game. The pigeons are keeping what they think to themselves.

From 10th July 2022

The late afternoon light is sharp and bright. The shadows are dappled and dark. The big leaves of the sweet chestnuts form a sort of green impenetrable wall. An onshore breeze makes the heat bearable. The voices of thousands of visitors, the screams of children, the laughter of those bouncing in the little waves blend together to make that one murmur that means Summer. One or parties have bought sound systems. The subs go wump, wump, wump. Towels and swimming shorts are draped over the cliff top rails in rows. The grass is covered with picnickers and looks like a painting by Georges Seurat. Where cars have been parked in the sun all day, Those who have left the beach have to leave the doors and windows wide open and sit on the pavement. The wildlife has taken refuge in the bushes, today belongs to the humans. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #july 

From 10th July 2021

The soft summer rain is joyous an uplifting. Falling straight down from the windless, grey dawn sky it patters on the tree canopy above with a continuous, reassuring sound that is underlined by the cooing of a pigeon on a high branch. A wren challenges me noisily from a bush. Everything is in full leaf so the sound accompanies me from pine grove to the cliff top. The rain patters on the ilex trees, on the gorse bushes and hazel brakes, on the grassy places, the yarrow and medick. The sea seems distant and calm. Pigeons hunch up on the handrails and benches. They can't be bothered to move as I approach. Blackbirds love the rain as it brings the worms to the surface of the softened turf and they can make a good breakfast for the kids.

From 10th July 2010

It's been a long day already - swimming in the sea before brekfast, lunch on the balcony, beach party tonight. Phew what a scorcher

9th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

A shiny brown dog rushes through the undergrowth chasing pigeons and squirrels. A pigeon waits to the last minute and takes of with a flutter of wings and sending up a shower of dried leaves. The dog, astonished screeches to a halt and sits back on its haunches. “Has he ever caught one?” I ask the owner. “No and he wouldn’t know what to do with it if he did.” The air is humid after overnight rain and where the green hedges are covered in drops of moisture the air is almost steaming. But, despite the heat, the sun only occasionally manages to force its way through the bubbly grey clouds. Visitors on the beach are well spread out and some look lonely and forlorn. The green rope hanging in the trees has acquired a stick tied to the end and a swing suspended from two blue cords has appeared. Buttereflies are everywhere on the clifftop and, as well as the gatekeepers, there is a flock of large whites hunting through the brambles. The pigeons are distant and their wails add to a feeling of uncertainty about the day. Pigeons continue to coo.

From 9th July 2022

On the corner of the path where the gnats dance in the strong rays of the evening light, a great cloud of gnats are dancing. Exactly what gnats are , or why they dance, I cannot tell but like JB Morton's Cabman they dance and dance and dance. The beach is still crowded and little curls of smoke from barbecues form that blue haze that is so characteristic of the beach on a summer's evening. Visitors in their ones and twos are beginning to leave. Towels and rugs are shaken vigorously and folded. Crying children are swept up and the slow procession up the Zig Zag begins. A jet-ski sketches a white chalk stripe across the barely ruffled mid blue bay. Seagulls stake out the rubbish bins waiting for a tasty supper. In the shade of a clump of pines there is a large picnic in celebration of someone's birthday. The 30th according to the swaying, bumping helium balloons. A greenfinch fills the air with its ridicuklous song before settling down for the night. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #evening #July

From 9th July 2021

The early sunlight slants warmly through the trees making deep, dark shadows on the soft carpet of pine needles. A guy in a check shirt is sitting hunched on a bench with a cigarette in one hand and a can in the other. We nod briefly to each other. The sea is barely ruffled by the slight fresh breeze. To the West everything seems blue, the sea, the sky, the distant hills picked out by the golden sliver of sand in an arc and tiny brilliant white clusters of buildings at Sandbanks and reflecting the bright chalk stacks of Old Harry further round. To the East, under the steadily climbing sun, the sea is sheet of polished silver. A man in shorts is taking his dog for a walk. Exactly that. He walks quickly round the West Cliff with a poodle under his arm.

8th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

A hot and humid overnight and then it begins to drizzle. The air is still and hot. The moisture collects on blackberry leaves and bracken fronds in trasparent crystals. Then it rains harder from the lumpy grey sky. Pigeons hunch against the weather. Droplets collect on the bells of bindweed. Broad leaves on the ground are annoyed by the dripping from tree branches above. But in between the showers, the paths dry quickly. Off shore racers snarl up and down the bay. Pigeons coo.

From 8th July 2022

The trees, the bushes, the grass suck the heat from the sun and exude it back again in one giant hot breath. The gorse, the bracken, the ragwort and thistles are getting drunk on the heat. The tarmac of the path is almost too hot to walk on. The sky is a uniform blue from horizon to horizon. Only the laziest ripples disturb the crystal clear waters of the bay. Crows demonstrate just how hard they are by sitting on a row of fence posts in the afternoon glare wearing their black winter overcoats. Sun worshippers are doing just that while most people have retreated to the shade of the pines. Pigeons find it almost too much effort to coo. Gulls seem to be far away and their voices echo dully off the cliffs. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

From 8th July 2021

A chilly grey dawn but the air is calm and still. Not far off shore a fisherman stand in the stern of his small boat paying out his net. It is a timeless image. On the cliff top three crows huddle together talking to each other.

From 8th July 2014

So what did your Mum tell you to do there's a big thunderstorm outside with hailstones the size of sugar cubes and thunder grumbling relentlessly away? (Apart from unplugging all electrical appliances and covering up the mirrors of course.) Make scones, that's what.

From 8th July 2011

is watching the squalling winds rip through the fading sky..

7th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The heat comes up in waves of the green bracken and brambles lining the cliff top. The undergrowth is alive with insects and butterflies who are greedily feasting on the nectar from thistles and teasels. The sky in an intense blue and reflects off the waters in the bay. The beach is filling up and the Green is filled with young men with their shirts off demonstrating the work they have been putting in at the gymn. Most picnickers have found shelter in the shade of trees and bushes where dogs lie panting. A helicopter drones by in the unsullied heaven. Most small birds are silent. Pigeons coo.

From 7th July 2022

One of those dawns with a lumpy grey duvet covering the whole of the firmament except for a brilliant blue gap at the edges through which the sun rises in brief golden magnificence and then is gone as if back to bed for the day. A volley of terns speed along the water's edge twisting and turning before hanging still in the air and plunging straight down into the surf to emerge a moment later presumably having won breakfast. They squeak and squeal in their high voices as if in delight before continuing their beat off Eastwards. For once the Green is deserted as is the beach apart from a young couple who huddle together under blankets. They have the whole seven miles of golden sand to themselves. I hope they know what it is to be happy. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

From 7th July 2011

The clouds are breaking up. The sun is struggling through. Not quite enough blue sky to make a sailor a pair of trousers and the sea is still leaden but there might be a swim in the day yet.

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.

5th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

A snappy little wind sends the clouds scurrying across the sky. When the sun peeps through it is July warm. The little lawns among the trees are sunny pools of green. Somebody has tied a green cord from a branch of one of the holm oaks. But how or why I can’t tell. The branch is too small to swing from but it must also be too thin for someone to crawl along it. As the afternoon wears on, the clouds become fewer and the sun shines more strongly even iff the breeze is just as strong. A junior bug hunter scours the grass for likely targets. So far he’s only found a woodlouse and a grass hopper. It’s a start. Pigeons coo from the trees.

From 5th July 2022

I wish I knew more about grasses. This year has been particularly good and an early, warm (ie not frosty) spring has meant that every corner and bank is covered in swathes of tall, lush grasses now all with heavy seed heads. I can recognize a few of them because we used to grow them on the farm. Cocksfoot, Timothy, English Rye Grass, Italian Rye Grass. Some are naughty weeds like Wild Oats and Black Grass. And some are easy to spot like Quaking Grass. But even if you have them in your lawn or if they creep into your flower beds, you probably would not have seen them grow to full height. We know Couch Grass from its invasive white roots. But would you recognise its seed head? On my way round the Green just now I counted eight species without any effort. But there are many I can't identify which is a pity because now is the time to do just that. The open, more frequented spaces seem cloaked in a pretty, pinkish grey cloud which is the mass after mass of the delicate Fescues. The evening is grey and muggy and the sea is almost still. Occasional prickles of wind. The crows are back in town and barking loudly at visitors. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

From 5th July 2016

How quickly the flowers succeed one another at this time of year. Burnet Saxifrage is now dominant among the dry grasses at the cliff top and the ubiquitous Oxford Ragwort is the prominent member of the daisy family. Already blackberry blossom has given way to the hard green fruit and the bracken is over my head height. A beautiful, soft sun filled evening with a tranquil sea and a feeling of rest everywhere. Forget the appalling mess the country's in and get out and watch a process that will continue longer than you or I are here.

From 5th July 2011

I'm watching the wrinkled grey blue sea from my window and, occasionally, I see sudden darker shapes and little trails of foam and I think: "A dolphin" or "a whale" but its always just a higher than average wavelet throwing a shadow in the early morning sunlight

From 5th July 2009

A small brown undistinguished looking little bird sits on the barbed wire turned away as if ignoring me. Suddenly it tumbles into the air and makes a short twisting, fluttering aerobatic circuit before returning to its perch. A spotted flycatcher doing what it does best.

4th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

When the sun manages to peep through it is wan and sickly. The chilly wind rakes the sea up into sharply pointed little waves. Ants are beginning to show where their nests are by the little dusty piles of sand in places where tree roots have burst through the surface of the path. Gulls are tossed high into the sky from where their voices filter down, half heard and ghostly. A juvenile crow with patchy brown and mottles plumage tries to arrange his feathers as he tries to remain upright on a fence post. The beach is flat and empty. A man in an orange hoodie seems to be slumped wearily on one of the benches. In the dark still places beneath the trees, pigeons coo.

From 4th July 2022

Tick tock. The sun shines warmly down. Tick Tock the cloud slides across and we feel the chill. Tick Tock, the sun appears again. Tick Tock the wind blows strong. Tick Tock the air is still. Meanwhile the sea is calm and rippled. Tick Tock. Ah here is the sun again. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #July

From 4th July 2021

The tall flowers - mallows, ragworts, Evening Primroses and mulleins - bend on the breeze and curve gracefully as they lean on the tall grasses, now dry and white with heavy seed heads. The shouts and laughter of three girls bobbing in the choppy surf carry up the cliff face on the breeze. Earlier, sheets of rain draped themselves across the West Cliff but now the scudding grey clouds allow brief glimpses of the sun. The sea is indigo and green and there is a heavy, lush green scent in the air from the bracken and foliage of the bushes.

3rd July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The fresh breeze sends my hat bowling down the path in front of me. An undignified chase ensues. The grey green sea is topped with small white horses out in the bay. White ponies, I suppose. These are the days when schools arrive on trips. Little knots of children sit on the sand while their floourescent jacketed teachers are dreaming of proper holidays and days at a warmer seaside. On the cliff top a column from a junior school encounter a gaggle from a senir school. “Year Six - keep to the right” says the anxious teacher. Somehow both groups make it down the zig-zag to the beach. A greenfinch croaks and warbles from an old pine until it takes off and is hurled along the cliff face by the gale. Despite the fact that the sun is hidden by bumbling clouds, the day is warm enough for joggers to proceed shirtless and sweating. Pigeons coo.

From 3rd July 2022

By the evening, the strong wind has died down to no more than a cheek-kissing breeze. The clouds bumble further apart till we can see clear blue sky and a warm late sun. The bright golden rays light up the patchwork of green, yellow and straw fields on Ballard Down. Every now and then a bubbling, flat bottomed cloud passes and the hills are dark before they light up again. The hills, indeed, seem to skip like lambs as the Psalm has it. The sea is a flat, intense blue and the waves are stilled save for a low rush and sigh. Picnic blankets are spread. A myriad of bees of all types buzz among the blackberry flowers. Their work has not been in vain and there is the first, luscious blackberry of the year. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #july

From 3rd July 2019

Summer has finally crept up behind us and announced his presence with a startling clap on the shoulder and a hearty "come on in. The water's lovely". He put in a brief appearance earlier in a May but he soon hurried away on more important business elsewhere. And for most of June he has huddled in a seaside shelter hiding under his hoodie and smoking rollies until the weather cleared. Maybe he'll hang about this time for a week or two before he slouches off as August approaches leaving us disappointed again. Or maybe he'll fulfill his obligation and it'll be cricket on the Green until the end of September. Somebody really ought to take the young whipper-snapper in hand and teach him about reliability and keeping promises.

From 3rd July 2015

I could see the lightning getting closer across the bay like a creeping barrage. I said to the bloke standing next to me "You're standing on open ground on a clifftop with lightning hitting the water a hundred yards away, I'd put your umbrella down if I were you." But he wasn't and he didn't so I legged it indoors pretty smartish.

2nd July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The sky is mostly blue but big pillows of cloud slide across the sun from time to time. The air is fresh and little waves slip slap in a friendly way along the beach. A boat under one white sail creeps along close in to the shore. The familes of crows and magpies spread out across the short grass. The magpies keep in touch with a stern “chack”. The pine trees stand out magnificently against the sky. Pigeons coo.

From 2nd July 2022

Occsional little speckles of drizzle from the grey cloud driven quickly along by the currying wind. What was one pink sweet pea plant has now developed into several large patches tangling in and out of the clifftop grass. Everywhere, juvenile birds of different denomintions sit on posts looking unkempt and miserable. Maybe they could learn something from the rigidly chaperoned and be-makeup-ed Groups of teenage girls in sparkly tops with hair pulled up tight into a knot decorated with a bow. They fill every space on the beach and in the gardens. They spill out of the doorways of hotels and b'n'bs. They fill every cafe and restaurant. It is the cheerleader championships. I hope they're all having a good time. 

From 2nd July 2011

The air is full of the harsh growl of the big diesel racing boats charging across the bay. Why don't they slow down and enjoy the sunshine?

From 2nd July 2010

The sun set is violent. Crazy slashes of crimson, orange and slate blue. Everything is bathed is a curious purple light that turns the greens of the fields and hills and hedgerows grey and brown and washes brickwork with a strange violet glow.

1st July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

Despite the torrential overnight rain, the paths are soon drying out. A guy in a white hoodie sitting out on one of the benches shows up brightly against the dark green on the pines. He is staring at his phone. Further along a young woman leans on a rail staring at the sea. The sky is a lumpy mass of grey and white clouds. Occasionally the sun is able to make a series of silver puddles on the sea corrugated with choppy waves. Thistle heads are bright purple and the Bears’ Paws are massive and stand out against the sea and the sky. Pigeons coo.

From 1st July 2022

During the morning there has been a transparent turquoise sea with just a smear of chartreuse to show where the sandbars lie out beyond the surf line. A brisk wind whips whitecaps off the top of the waves here and there. By afternoon, the clouds have gathered and the wind strengthened to a real bluster. A juvenile magpie flying across the green is suddenly whisked backwards and over and over by a sudden gust until it can find refuge on a convenient branch from where it displays its embarrassment and annoyance by a series of squawks and grumbles. In the dark places of the wood the first spears of enchanters nightshade prod upwards through the low sprawling brambles. As I pass the wood sage plant there is a real scent of lemony sage carried up on the warm air. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #Summer #July

From 1st July 2016

The sea is ragged and that pewter colour beloved by writers. A steady drizzle falls from a leaden sky. Even the gulls are subdued today. But the clifftop is awash with vivid greens of every tone a mass of bushes and swathes of grass enjoying the past month of rain. 

From 1st July 2011

Beautiful deep blue sea out my window. A lone water skier makes a pencil straight white line across the little waves. Bright green trees on the cliff top and the gulls calling "What on earth are you doing inside on a day like this?"

30th June from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

This time of year trees are so laden down with fruit or cones or seeds as well as all the summer foliage that the whole tree can split apart. This year there has been especially rich crop so many trees are burdened down. Often it may only be a branch but it is still a massive weight and it can happen without warning and without wind to prompt it. It’s happened twice on the West Cliff Green this week so keep your eyes and ears open. But don’t forget it is all part of the natural order of things and just shows what a bountiful year it has been. This morning the air is fresh and the clouds have returned but the sea is calm and smooth. Gulls drift about wailing and calling. On the lookout for the first ripe blackberry but it looks as though the birds may have had the same idea. The greenfinches are back in good voice and the crows are gathered in family groups.

From 30th June 2022

The little nubby green blackberries are beginning to turn red and fatter. But there are still plenty of white and pink flowers for later in the autumn. The sun, when it's finished playing hide and seek with the big white clouds is strong and warm but the strong wind makes it better to sit in the shelter of the trees or bushes. Three juvenile magpies complain and squabble as siblings do whilst the parents watch on from the fence. The waves are deep and long. Swimmers do little more than bob about in the surf. The hedgerow flowers are joined by sweet smelling honeysuckle and the purple and yellow flowers of deadly nightshade. And a plant I haven't seen here before - wood sage with leaves smaller but similar to the garden variety and spikes of tiny yellow flowers with maroon tongues. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #June

From 30th June 2021

It's quiet under the trees. Just the distant chack chack chack of a blackbird annoyed by something. Even the incoming tide makes a hush hush sound. Some small creature is feasting on pine cones high up in the branches. Unwanted scraps rain down on the path. The teasels are making a fine effort this year and are already shoulder high. Hogweed (not the poisonous Giant variety) beloved by rabbits, pushes up through the brambles. There is a thin mist on the horizon this evening but it is pleasantly warm

From 30th June 2015

Thunderstorm's drifted off up Channel.

29th June from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

For a brief moment the sun breaks through the rolling clouds and lights up the Barfleur away on the horizon on its way to Cherbourg. Then the beam swings across and picks up the brilliant white chalk stacks of Ballard Point and Old Harry. The sea is mirror smooth from the clifftop but closer to the surface is made up of thousands of tiny ripples created by the fresh wind. The day is made up of small details. The rings on a sawn off branch of a pine, a plastic carrier bag, a family of six magpies (six for gold) clustering round breakfast on the ground and a gorgeously plumaged jay darting among the branches. A squirrel poses briefly with a nut in hand. Pigeons coo, passing some message from one to another.

From 29th June 2022

Pigeons don't do much on the West Cliff Green except coo and eat. And a bit of energetic hows-yer-father in the tree tops. Today one is balanced precariously in a thicket of charlock eating the seeds with the enthusiasm of Billy Bunter in a tuck shop. But our wood pigeons always seem to be neat and well turned out unlike their raggedy urban cousins. Their sleek pink-grey feathers are set off by their beautiful blue purple necks and crisp white collars. The sky is pigeon grey and the strong wind is driving the waves into a sort of half-hearted frenzy. The bigger crows look at the pigeons disdainfully. A women's keep fit class seem to exercise mostly with big bungee cords that could usefully launch a glider. The pigeons coo. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #june #summer

From 29th June 2021

It is four o'clock in the morning and still dark. Water is falling straight down from the sky in great Olympic sized swimming pool gouts and torrents. Someone stands in the street singing. What it is they are singing I can't tell. A strange, mournful ululation. He stands there for a little while then moves off up the road. I suppose, when caught in such deluge there is nothing else to do but sing.

Later

The pale green sea is almost flat calm this evening. Just a restless frill of surf at the tide's edge. From the topmost branch of a tall cypress a bird is singing its heart out in defiance of the dark clouds rolling in. It can only be a Mistle Thrush, it's voice loud and clear and doing exactly what its more familiar name of Storm Cock demands of it.