22nd June from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The sky is blue but the big pillowy clouds of white and grey are slow moving in the almost still air. From time to time the sun disappears altogether but the day remains hot and humid. The light has a peculiar, second hand quality to it. A slight mist hangs across the horizon. A little flotilla of navy Ribs scurry across rhe water in the disance. The sea is practically mirror smooth and the fisherman lies back in his boat as he trails out his lines. The scent of new cut grass hangs in the air where the mowers have been at work, although there is plenty of long grass left under the trees. Here, most of those sitting out, have retreated with their collapsible chairs. The pigeons are doing their best but they almost seem weary of their cooing. Last night a fox crossed the Green in the dark barking as it went.

From 22nd June 2022

From the beach, the West Cliff appears as a patchwork of light and dark greens of various kinds interspersed with the pale yellow of the naked sandy rock stained orange here and there from the chalybeate springs. Only the tops of some apartment blocks indicate that there is civilization nearby. The choppy sea glitters and dances in the bright sun. White gulls appear almost transparent and aethereal as the glide high across the brilliant blue welkin. On the clifftop itself, the dapples of light on the paths are deep and reassuring. A small breeeze keeps the air fresh. On a gate a greenfinch squares up to a grey wagtail. This is a newcomer. A beautiful slender bird, similar in shape and size to the pied wagtail but with a head and neck of black and grey with bright white stripes. But most noticeable is the bright sunshine yellow belly and breast. Every tree seems to contain a pigeon that fill the air with their summer cooing. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #June #summer

From 22nd June 2021

The chilly breeze is strong enough to push the long grasses over and rattles the leaves of the ilex trees. In the shelter of the pines it is warm enough especially when the sun forces through the heaps of grey clouds. The sea is noisy, making a continuous rushing sound but the waves are small and innocuous. Sow thistles line the paths and yarrow and hawksbeards are growing taller than usual on the grassy margins especially round the bases of the litter bins. on the side of the West Cliff away from the sea the sound of lawnmowers from the hotels and flats are loud in the air.

From 22nd June 2016

The fret coils its way in across the bay, across the cliffs and into the streets of the town. Rain falls in large thundery drops. The setting sun casts a weird spectral glow through the fog. A wood pigeon, alone on a bare branch, coos in an odd counterpoint to the mournful, dead ships' foghorns in the harbour.