12th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sun is veiled by a thin grey cloud. A steady breeze from the South so it doesn’t seem quite as cold until the sun is blotted out in its unending game of hide and seek with the clouds. At the moment the clouds are winning two nil and it is cold again. Sunday amblers and saunterers are out in Force in couples and families. But the benches are empty until a black and white sheep dog decides to take posession of one. I ask the owner if I can take a picture and she signals to her pet who then takes up a series of poses from lying at full length to sitting up to looking fierce. Pigeons coo from the tree tops. A blackbird chitters and the wagtails leap and bounce. Little clumps of daffodills appear in unexpected places. Despite the cold there is an uplift in mood around the place.
From 12th March 2022
A lazy wind. You know, the sort that goes right through and chills you to the bone because it can't be bothered to go round. It harries the sea which thrums and hisses onto the beach. The half moon is veiled in thin, high cloud so shines a strange, muted silver light. The empty pools of the street lights on the path throw deep, shadows beneath the trees which are thick and dark and full of more mystery because I can see the occasional lights from the flats through them. The gap between reality here and there is a deep, unknowable void. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 12th March 2016
The hypnotic rustling of the sea is an attempt to mesmerise and lull while the strange concentrated ballet of the anglers' head-torches dance and weave along the beach. Above, hangs the veiled luminescence of the Queen of the Night swathed in muslin and locked in a velvet lined vault lest her rays hurt our minds.
