11th May from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

Fluffy white clouds against a blue sky. Well, nearly. Some of the time. When it’s not being grey and overcast. As the big drops of rain start to fall, a man in an ironic sky blue rain-cape stands in the shelter staring outward across the bay. A fishing boat keeps station just off the shore with rods arranged over the stern. Further out a lifeboat makes patterns with its wake. The waves are soft and sibilant. The undergrowth is lush as the early flowers are supplanted by the later, more summery plants like Jack in the Hedge. The warblers are loud in the bushes. Pigeos coo.

From 11th May 2022

The wild wind whips the tops off the crumpled, rumpled waves and sends the spray up the cliff face so that the air tastes as salty as the tears of the old folk sitting in the shelter mourning for the lovely spring days of yore. Everything is lush and green and the docks and sorrells are now far taller than the nettles. The Jack in the Hedge is as tall and gangly as a teenager. Now and then the rain patters down from the flat, grey sky. Through it a blackbird sings on and on. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #may #spring

From 11th May 2016

Part of the charm of the robin is that he or she sings throughout the year when many other birds are skulking about more or less silently. But In spring the rather utilitarian winter song becomes something altogether more beautiful This evening one brave songster was standing proudly in the topmost branches of a bush almost hidden in the fog. His (or her) song was a liquid series of trills and richly varied melodies that transformed a gloomy evening.