24th June from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The early morning clouds and mist are beginning to burn off by late morning. But then it’s replaced by a solid white haar that creeps across the bay, slides up the cliff and writhes its way among the tree tops. But the day is sweltering and on the green, half clothed bodies lie everywhere. More sensible people slide their collapsible chairs into the shade. A jenny wren sings loudly from the depths of the ivy that clothes the trunk of a pine tree. The round seedheads of crow garlic are more apparent than their seeds were. Two crows weave through the trees uttering deep gutteral noises. A lizard darts across the hot tarmac on the path right in front of my shoe.

From 24th June 2022

In a matter of a minute or two the pattering raindrops turn into a torrent. Puddles form quickly and the leafy branches of the sweet chestnuts are borne down with the weight of the rain. A fisherman sitting at the tide's edge with two rods cast out into the surf, turns his collar up, unmoving. The blue green bay is corrugated and a bold breeze presses in from the South East. Along the fence posts a family of crows sit hunched against the deluge. The youngsters looking dishevelled and bored in the way that juveniles of all species do. A blackbird flutes from within a bush. Pigeons coo. However hard they try, weather forecasters almost never get the forecast right. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #June #summer #rain #weather #forecast

From 24th June 2021

A quilted grey sky to the east. A chilly breeze but the sun manages to peep through warmly from time to time. It's a quiet morning, even the little waves are only making a brief slapping sound on the beach where a clock face of twelve yoga practitioners are welcoming the dawn. The birds are mostly in little families of adults and juveniles hunting for breakfast. Blackbirds, goldfinches and tits. It is the time for the bigger, blowsier flowers, ragwort and mallow in profusion. Long trails of blackberries reach out hungrily from the fence and across the path. A robin sings and a pigeon coos.

From 24th June 2012

They're late going home from the club tonight. never mind, the wind whirls their voices away to be lost altogether in the roar of the surf