10th January from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Another damp, blustery morning under a flat grey sky The sea grumbles to itself on the shore. The distant hills are watery and barely visible beyond the mist that hangs about like some lurking footpad ready to make himself known at any moment. The treetops nod as if uncertain what to say about this miserable day. The pigeons have all collected under a holm oak canopy. The gulls are distant and meow occasionally in a half-hearted way. Everything looks gaunt and unfinished.
From 10th January 2022
A uniform grey sky. The damp air stirred by a steady chill breeze. A uniform grey sea with just the merest hint of a pale gold band at the horizon. Squirrels scurry about in the brown leaves trying to remember where their winter caches are stored. Somewhere, from one of the pines comes a purring sound. The voice of the turtle dove? Far too early in the year. But the sound is unmistakeable and quite distinct from any other pigeon or dove. I listened for a good five minutes. But perhaps you can suggest an alternative. #Bournemouth #westcliff #winter #January
From 10th January 2012
The sea is a pale mauve washing against the dark purple of the clouds. There is a eerie violet tint to the light that makes the silhouette of the pine tree seem a dark brown colour. A slash of pale green zigzags through the cloud bank. An extraordinary comic book scene.
