21st February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A drizzly grey dawn and a fresh breeze. And although the precipitation stops it carries on feeling damp all day. The little waves are rhythmic and gentle. The birds are all busy with their spring preparations. A magpie flies across the green carrying a stick twice as long as himself. A few minutes later he crosses back in the opposite direction and, later still, flies into a tree still carrying the bounty. If this is a wooing present then it looks as though he’s trying to impress a number of ladies at once. A pair of dunnocks flirt and chase each other along the clifftop and pigeons coo from nearly every tree. Gulls circle keeping an eye on everything happening below.
From 21st February 2022
The wind has wound down but is still as brisk and energetic as a primary school classroom assistant. It is as refreshing as playtime and the sound it makes in the treetops is calm and reassuring instead of grumpy and threatening. The sun bursts through between the trees. It is half term and little family groups play on the beach or wander about the clifftop stopping for improvised picnics on the benches. Spring brings out the builders who are busy on any number of projects on the WestCliff. Distant voices and hammering is carried down on the breeze from the scaffolding. A crow, feathers ruffling, surveys the scene with a dark eye. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 21st February 2021
A grey filmy dawn. Corners smudged by mist. But it's light in the sky so maybe a good day ahead. The overnight rain has made deep black puddles which mirror the sky. Little patters of rain pick at their surface. Crows and and a few gulls wander aimlessly as if waiting for something to happen. A pigeon sidles along the rail just in front of me but as I get nearer his bravery deserts him and he tumbles off down the cliff. A pied wagtail skitters along the path and then flies up onto a bench to watch me pass. Two young people are playing badminton in the mist. A ship's siren sounds from the harbour. The rest of the soundscape is filled with the growing dawn chorus of the resident birds.
From 21st February 2016
Heavy grey cloud and a brisk wind whisking through the pine tops. The sea is muddy and restless but on the cliff edge swathes of wild garlic contrast with the yellow flowers of the gorse. The black birds and thrushes are beginning to sing all out and are accompanied by the ostinato drumming of a greater spotted woodpecker. Even the pigeons have put on their Sunday best bright white collars and pink vests. Pathside bushes are covered with fat green leaf buds bursting with vitality. Best of all, in the rough grass, a patch of vivid purple violets. Turn around now, spring is on its way.
From 21st February 2011
The rain has stopped. Now the fog is creeping inland, writhing round the pines on the clifftop and they begin to fade from sight. The fingers of fog are moving up the street towards the town. The grey is soft and clinging and grey is becoming the only colour. The red brick of the buildings opposite is beginning to fade to grey and whisps and streaks of grey cloud are wafting slowly past my window. The day closes in.
