5th June from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The new shoots on the ends of the outstretched branches of the dark green Scots Pines make them look like pale green candles decorating a Christmas Tree. A slightly confusing image for a warm day. The sky is clear blue and the sun beams down in a friendly way. But there is still a chilly little wind and the sea is still strong enough to provide more than a little excitement for the swimmers. The only difference between this and the beach in July is that there is still plenty of places along the sands for people to enjoy the sunshine. Looking at the variety of tall grasses on the West Cliff, it occurs to me that the green areas here must have been sown with grass seed mixtures, perhaps no longer than twenty or thirty years ago. In other spots the luxuriant nature of the brambles and bracken provide their own little micro climates of warmth and moisture rising up off the leaves as I walk between them.

From 5th June 2022

Last night's storm lingered longer and louder than any I can remember. Every sort of crack and boom and thump. Sometimes like the sky ripping apart, sometime a strange hollow clang like the sound of a steelworks. The torrent has carved washouts between the trees and down the banks. The paths are furrowed with mud and sand and gravel and banks of leaves. The day continues between drizzle and sudden downpours but by this evening there are small patches of blue that reflect in the mirror still puddles. The tall grasses are weighed down with water droplets. A small breeze begins to dry everything. Blackbirds fill the evening air with song. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #June

From 5th June 2021

Those of you who follow my posts know that I've been trying to capture the moments when one season slips into another. This year, because spring is running about three weeks behind schedule it's more than unususally tricky to decide when summer has arrived. This morning the sun comes up clear and hot over the horizon with not a cloud in the sky. The sea is flops lazily onto the beach. The dawn chorus has quietened because all the small birds are too busy feeding young to worry about choral effects. The long grass is beginning to dry out and is being overtaken by tall stems of yarrow. Teasels are growing strongly as is the bracken. Clumps of mugwort and mallow line the paths and the charlock has overstayed its brief allocation. Pigeons coo and smack their wings as they take off. Summer? Tantalizingly close.

From 5th June 2017

The sea is making an absolute racket. The surf boiling up like my mother's copper on a Monday morning. The wind and rain gust in squalls against my window. The street is lined with leaves and small branches from the clifftop trees and bushes bent right over before the gale.

From 5th June 2012

What do you do on a rainy, foggy, cold day in June? You make bread. Just out of the oven mmmm. And you keep on writing, of course.