18th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Where the path opens onto the Westcliff Green, I meet a fox. We stare at each other until the fox edges past and over a low wall where cars are parked. The fox is skinny and his holding what looks like an injured paw. I walk back round but he has disappeared and must be lying up somewhere near at hand. After peering under cars I cannot see him. The wind is cold and rushes through the tree tops. The sky is unrelievd grey and the waves are steep and solid on the bay. A little fishing boat is giving its occupant a roller-coaster ride. An old chair, seatless, is dozing in the bushes. On the green a father has managed to get two kites in the air and is giving the strings to his small children to hold. Child looks nonplussed. It is an age old Saturday morning ritual.
From 18th February 2022
By the end of the afternoon the storm has abated to a brisk breeze punctuated by sudden icy squalls. Lines of white horses gallop across the bay, tossing their manes which curl and smoke out behind them before they pound up onto the beach. An enormous storm edges its way across the horizon dragging its thich grey curtains of rain towards the Isl of Wight. Yet, to the north, the sky is clear and pale blue and towards the west a pine tree is silhouetted dramatically against the pale lemon sky where the sun has just set. Stars begin to prickle the darkening firmament. If it wasn't for the cold wind it would be a pleasant spreng evening. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #StormEunice #springisonitsway #February
From 18th February 2021
The wind is fierce and gusty driving icy rain into my face. But the gale is directed up the cliff face from the beach below. At the top it curls over leaving a little quiet passage on the clifftop path itself. A few paces either side of the path and the wind is at full buffeting, rain laden force but here I can walk in comparative tranquility. I take more or less the same route each morning. Not just the routine of of an bewildered old man but this way I can observe change. That's not just "celandines" that are in full flower but the actual celandines I saw coming into bud yesterday. A patch of violets that weren't there before. The acanthus plant that has been shouldering up all winter seems to have been caught by the sub zero temperature last week and the leaves are grey and drooping. And I observe similar changes elsewhere. A level of scaffolding is coming down on the building site. I count the number of EVs parked in the clifftop car park to see how we're doing on climate change. In the past, I have counted up to three. Today there are none.
