29th November from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A flat, cold, grey morning. A thin mist wreathes around the buildings and the tops of the trees. It’s as coldas it has been. Fingers and nose pinch. A single gold leaf flutters down from one of the sweet chestnuts where a branch has broken off over night. The sea washes backwards and forwards aimlessly. Breath hangs in the damp air in front of walkers. The broken brown fronds of bracken drip with moisture. One or two pigeons and gulls peck at the wet grass in a desultory manner. A single, flat topped fungus grows up beside the path. It has a faint pink glow to its top. One of the workman from the Riviera building site is taking his break in the clifftop shelter. He wishes they had started building earlier so he ould have enjoyed more sunshine and the view. The water is calm enough for a swim and one or two people are taking the opportunity, but the nippy air must make getting in and out a bit off-putting. A green finch startles out of a bush and whisks along the clifftop. A jay in its pink and blue and black and white harlequin costume hops up from the path and glides off down the cliff.
From 29th November 2020
As the dawn brightens beyond the pine trees, the cold intensifies. It's well below zero but the air is still and dry so there is only a thin layer of frost. But it covers everything, grass, bushes, benches, fence rails evenly with a grey sheen. The sea is still with only the slightest swell disturbing its surface. The birds are up and about trying to find breakfast. The pigeons are poking about in the leaf litter along side the squirrels. Occasional little skirmishes break out. A wren flashes across the path ahead of my feet almost too quick to see. Yesterday I saw a chiff chaff looking bewildered and confused and obviously hungry. Although most of them clear off to sunnier climes in September, we also get overwintering birds from further north. This one had clearly been carried here on the northerly air and certainly looked travel weary. But I didn't spot him or her today. Good luck. The pale blue eastern sky is splashed with streaks of orange and mauve clouds criss crossed with a delicate silver net of contrails. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Winter #November
From 29th November 2018
The grass and benches on the clifftop are heavy with moisture. A grey bank of foggy cloud rolls out across the bay and despite the cold, insistent wind, the air among the pines seems strangely dead and still. There is just the distant grumble of the surf on the shore. People come here to contemplate the view and there is always a bunch of flowers plastic tied somewhere along the fence. Toady’s offering is already drooping and browning at the edges rainsoaked and forlorn. Yet, this is the most invigorating time of the year. The fact that darkness continues well into the morning shows that the year is turning. That things are changing. It must be flattening to live in a place where the days are regular and the sunshine is constant. Today’s uplift is provided by a glorious piece of graffiti in blue and purple and orange. Someone stepped out of the shadows to say “I was here”.
