25th November from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A boisterous, fresh breeze. The sky is a sheer, unsullied blue. The sun, low on the horizon is strong and warm. The waves are strictly regimented into ruler straight rows and crash onto the beach with a satisfying thump. Where the sun strikes through the trees it produces shadows dark and mysterious and throws the rugged bark of the pines into deep, dramatic relief. All is light and shadow. Magpies hop from branch to branch and wagtails pop up and down as in an arcade game.
From 25th November 2021
I'm always on the lookout for those signs that says one season has faded into another. I'm pretty sure today is winter. The air is cold and there is a nasty, sneeping wind. The sky is that clear blue that only occurs on the coldest of days. The sun is almost horizontal during daylight hours and glares balefully off the mirror flat sea so that it is difficult to look south across the bay at any time. Even the magpies seem to feel the change of season and shuffle about at the bottom of the hedgerow shoulders hunched against the chill. Most animals and birds are keeping out of sight and even the squirrels seem to have a desperation about the way they hunt for their stashes in the leaf litter. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #winter #November
From 25th November 2011
The air is fresh but there's no bite in it yet. The dawn sky is copper green streaked with vermillion and orange. The long autumn continues. As I walk along beside the beach the promenade lights wink out one by one and I feel like a sort of reverse Michael Jackson. The surfers are already disporting themselves like young seals in th low waves.
