17th November from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sky is a bright wash of lemon. Regiments of purple slate coloured clouds march along the horizon and shoulder up against the rising sun. Long streamers of high pink gold cloud radiate out from the east. The wind is fresh but gentle. Dog walkers wear blue parkas with hoods covering their ears. They don’t seem to be particularly happy to be out here this morning. The bay is lumpy like meusli. The swell approaches the shore in long ruler straight parallel lines but they break with a rhythmic polite shusssh. A lone figure practises yoga on the flat sand at the tide’s edge. The crow with the droopy wing has found something worth some effort in among the wet grass stems. The Mis-shapen wing is quite a different colour from the rest of its plumage. A chestnut brown against the black. A girl with a black tracksuit has tied her long blond hair back so that it actually flows out like a pony’s tail as she trots along.
From 17th November 2020
A murky grey November morning. A brisk breeze keeps everything alive. Squirrels scuttle through the golden leaf litter loading with the last of the sweet chestnuts and holm oak acorns. The beach is flat and smooth but there is only one lone walker at the tide’s edge. Further down a swimmer braves the surf. A crow struts self importantly on the clifftop. A low drizzly cloud sweeps in across the bay blotting out the bulk of the grey hills beyond.
