18th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Another one of those late summer days with chilly evenings and warm afternoons. A brisk cross breeze ripples the calm sea fist one way and then the other. It has been a long summer and the West Cliff Green has seen drought and fire. But the one thing that the natural world teaches is that it will always want to grow again.
Where there were bare patches of dusty earth, green shoots are appearing and where the fire raged, the blackened bushes push out new leaves and pine needles begin a new layer of mulch. Whatever happens in terms of climate change or of war or tragedy, the green leaves will always force themselves up towards the sun. The new world may not be comfortable for humankind and may be very different but green plants can’t help but grow and nature will continue.
From 18th September 2021
Beautiful warm afternoon with a choppy sea but still ideal for swimming. But the shadows begin to creep across the beach from late afternoon so we have to hurry back up the cliff before it becomes chilly. Not much sign of autumn leaf fall yet except where the grass is littered with what looks like white feathers. They are the pale dry leaves of holm oaks.
From 18th September 2018
I can hear the yap-yapping from quite a distance. "Someone is not best pleased" I think. As I round the corner of the cliff path I see the originator of the unhappiness. A small - very small - hairy object not much bigger than a rabbit, "Yap yap yappity yap" it goes. A man stands hunched some distance away. "Someone's not happy." I say. The man nods towards the vertiginous cliff where there is no fence. "He's lost his ball." I gaze down the cliff face where a middle aged woman is clinging on for dear life whilst scrabbling through the undergrowth. "Yap yap, Left a bit, no, the other side of the brambles." The man looks at the tiny mutt. "You should be looking for this yourself. You lost it." The dog pauses and gives the man a withering look "Not my job" it barks. "What do I keep you for?" The man shrugs and stumbles down the slope to join his wife. The small beast continues to give orders from the clifftop "You haven't looked in the middle of that gorse bush. Yes, right in the middle. Go on. Don't be such a pair of wusses." As I pass on away down the path I can still hear him directing operations until his commands fade with the distance.
From 18th September 2011
There is no wind. The rain falls straight down. The cars shine in the grey morning light.
