19th May from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The sun is hidden behind a thin, high layer of cloud but the air is warm and the breeze is gentle. The sighs with the regularity of someone in a deep, trouble-free sleep. Little boats drift lazily after the shoals of silver fishes. Different phases of spring seems to bring different washes of colour to the West Cliff. Early spring seems to be white with the three cornered leeks. Then there is the blues of bluebells, speedwells and violets. Now we have the pinks of cranesbill, campions and clover. But always there are the yellows of buttercups, sow thistles and dandelions. And the ribwort plantains. And because these are ubiquitous we tend to overlook them. And then by mid afternoon, heavy downpours of rain and distant rumbles of thunder.

From 19th May 2022

Anybody who knows anything about clover knows that if you pull one of the tiny trumpet shaped flowers from the globular flower head and place the back of it on your tongue you can suck a tiny drop of exquisitely sweet honey. Such is the bounty that nature sprinkles along the path edge. Further on there is a bank of quaking grass which we used to call shiver grass because that's exactly what the drooping seed heads all do in the breeze. Tonight the air is fresh and the breeze is crisp so the shiver grass is shivering in delight. Red campions form a back drop. The sky is lumpy and grey but it is not cold. Blackbirds and dunnocks provide the evening chorus. Pigeons coo. #westcliffgreen #bournemouth #may #spring

From 19th May 2021

The sea is a patchwork of grey and pale green and indigo and steel and bottle green under a blue sky populated with clouds the colour and shape of meringues. The little waves sparkle and glitter where they fold gently onto the beach. There is still a steady breeze but the sun worshippers are beginning to lie out on the beach. The brave afternoon sun dapples the path and the birds have given way to the blackbirds' songs. A robin stands on the rail next to my hand and wrestles with a worm as big as it is. A pigeon coos as it always does.

From 19th May 2015

Little white fishing boat launching a string of lobster pots into the bay and leaving no sign but a pink marker. The oldest smuggling trick in the book.