11th June from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

A teady, soft rain started at dawn and continued for most of the morning. The grey sea is almost flat calm. Rivulets run down the paths carying the pale yellow pollen from the pines and make a lake under the sycamore tree into which the drops from the branches make extravagent patterns. Moisture drips in shiny drops from the fronds of bracken. Little waves kneel at the tide’s edge and nod a crisp little line of surf on the sand. One or two visitors have made their little camps on the basis that the sun might come out later. A couple of cyclists have hauled their cycles into the cliff top shelter and have fallen asleep out of the rain. A fat pigeon wades in one of the puddles as if puzzled as to what this phenomenon might be. The annual display of vivid pink sweet peas has sprung up amid the long grasses.

From 11th June 2022

A hot sunny day but with a steady, strong wind. This evening the golden light slants through the trees and among the pines all is still. The song of blackbirds and robins fill the air. The choppy blue sea is pushing big broken waves onto the shore but the sound is rhythmic and restful. Dried leaves of holm oak rattle along the path in the breeze. The sky is milky white but the patchwork fields of Ballard Down show up through the haze. Picnickers are still enjoying the evening and a cohort of gulls swirl around hoping for something juicy. The tall thistles are breaking into feathery purple flowers. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #June

From 11th June 2021

A uniform grey sky and a fresh breeze just on this side of chilly. A soft green sea. The first bird singing this morning was the blackbird as the gulls seem to be busy elsewhee. What's exciting at this time of year is the new flowers that can be seen every day. Today I spotted alkanet, red campion and the white trumpets of the hedge bindweed. Just a few in the hedge bottoms at the moment but very soon they will smother everything in profusion. And among the tall grasses which are beginning to die back the funny, dancing heads of quaking grass shivering in the breeze.

From 11th June 2009

he rising sun splashes the sea with a pale intensity so that your face is warm while the back of your neck prickles with an off shore breeze. A fisherman in a stained yellow bib sculls out to his boat moored in the bay. Distant gulls wail like lost souls