14th June from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

It’s a day of the deliciously dark places. Where you can wander in the dream-like spaces of bottle green shadows. Where paths lead tantalisingly in and out of the pools of brightness. Where you can spot the ruffled blue waters of the bay between the branches of the trees with names that belong in this day - Corsican Pine, Monterey Pine, Cedar of Lebanon. Old Harry pin pricks on the straight blue horizon if you look hard enough. Even the Scots Pines bask in the heat. Where the paths are hot and the heat moves and swirls at the behest of the little breeze that threads its way through the branches. A robin sings. Blackbirds flute drowsily and pigeons coo.

From 14th June 2022

Already the morning is hot. A little breeze stirs the air enough to keep it comfortable. Under the pines the shadows are deep and cool. People have sought secret places there to practise yoga or set up selfie cameras or just to lie and enjoy. A pigeon whirrs away under the branches. The sea is blue up to the blue horizon. The little waves sparkle and hush rhymically onto the flat sands. Where there is tarmac it radiates heat upwards. The apartments and hotels have woken up but now gone back to dozing with shutters and blinds closed. The banks of grass are peppered with the bright yellow of catsears. June in Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #bournemouth #june #summer

From 14th June 2016

On the landward side of the cliff a blackbird fills the still June evening with his song. He sits at the high point of a still bare bush. His song includes a flutey cadenza with a range from single high notes to a throaty warble that reminds me of Edith Piaf. A yaffle hunts for ants under the bush and a purposeful band of wood pigeons hunt the new mown turf for supper. As I climb the steps to my front door, from a hundred yards away I can still hear Edith singing to the fading light.

From 14th June 2010

The full, green trees are sharply etched against a pale blue sky.  Their green is washed in a warm apricot light from the rising sun.  The tree tops move restlessly in a sharp summer breeze.