30th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The first day with any real sense of autumn. A misty start and some early sun but then the cold wind picks up and the rain begins to lash down. The sound of the surf and the wind in the trees provide a hushed rumbling background sound These days, the changes of the season are demonstrated less by the colour of the leaves or the weather but by the demeanour of the walkers on the West Cliff. A few days ago, people were still optimistic about the weather in shorts and tee shirts, even though it may have been colder and wetter, but now raincoats have been dug out and they seem to have resigned themselves to the long haul. On the path, a pair of first winter pied wagtails are sauntering and bobbing along. Now and then one darts ahead but they never move far apart. A raggedy fall of migrating martins tumble over the cliff. And then a thumping equinoctial gale blew in.

Equinoctial gale on the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

From September 30th 2021

A strong blustery wind bringing with it fine drizzle and heavier persistent rain. The horizon closes in and the sea roars to itself on the lonely sands. Odd scraps that look like pieces of torn bin bag turn out to be the ragged shapes of crows being tossed about by the gale.

From September 30th 2015

I always associate the cry of the owl with deep woodland but here in our urban seaside environment there is a pair of tawny owls keeping up their mournful dialogue. Plenty of prey on the cliffs and plenty of cover in the chines.

I can just make out "Lord Nelson" and "Tenacious" sailing togather on the horizon. Magnificent sight. Reminds me of Hardy's description of "Victory" disappearing from view on the way to Cadiz in "The Trumpet Major"